Uncharming & The Prince
by Veritable Old Lady Crow
Summary: Tara Knowles was the only girl that never fell for his charms. And Jackson Teller was the only boy she ever loved, no matter how hard she fought the truth. And she fought like Hell...They both did. [An (AU) story of the High School Years of our SOA favorites.]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **New Readers**, welcome. **Hope you enjoy.

My version of **Jax** &amp; **Tara **(as teenagers)...its kind of a **love** you, **hate** you, **love** to **hate** you, hate that** i love you** Angsty-**lusty**-lovey-make-a-me-**crazy** rollercoaster ride so get **READY**. And don't expect an **INSTANT** happily ever after. Please* **DO** expect one...Just not an insta-love one (the term_ "slow burn"_ comes to mind...well slow_ish_)

\- **Veritable Old Lady Crow**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING.**

* * *

"_Don't forget my smokes!_"

Tara Knowles couldn't believe her father actually had the nerve to remind her to buy him cigarettes after the migraine he'd given her last night. Part of her was surprised he was even conscious after the bender he'd went on this past week.

Tara quickly snatched up the keys to the Cutlass the second her father started rambling off a list of things _she _needed to buy from the store like she was his fuckin housekeeper. Sad as it was she was more of a round the clock _nanny_. Still, that didn't mean she'd let him dictate how she took care of business. _She _was the only one doing anything where the Knowles residence was concerned.

_She _cooked.

_She _cleaned.

_She _made sure he didn't drown in his own vomit every night.

When her immune system failed her _she _took _herself_ to the doctor.

_She _remembered to pay all the bills _and_ take his precious car for a tune up.

Arthur Knowles rarely sobered up long enough to complete his shift. And to Tara's growing disgust and embarrassment the fact that he even kept his job at all had nothing to do with upper management being in the dark about his work ethic or lack thereof. As it turned out the Oswald's weren't just good businesspeople. They were also very _charitable_. And their charity of choice was the Knowles family. Tara knew the truth even if he would never cop to it. Elliot Oswald pitied her. He felt sorry for the little girl who lost her mother to Cancer and her father to the bottle. And Tara hated being anyone's charity case.

But that didn't stop her from taking the much needed help.

The Oswald generosity came in handy more often than she wanted to admit. It was the reason she was currently walking through _Monroe Market_'s parking lot on a late Saturday morning.

Today was day one of her escape plan.

She need to get serious about her savings account if she had even a prayer of getting the hell out of _Charming_, the most deceptively named California town in existence.

A light beep sounded from above the double doors as they slid open. Tara bypassed the row of checkout lines at the front of the store, heading towards the back where the employee office was located. She didn't bother tapping on the door. She pushed it open, dropping her bag on the floor in front of the one rusty locker that was still available. Having a drunk father who liked to yell and throw things meant studying or keeping sane required a certain level of tolerance for noise. So normally it was easy for Tara to block out her surroundings completely.

But the redhead squawking away on the phone at the desk in the corner was impossible to ignore.

"_It's alright, honey….trust me_! You won't be the first townie to have a baby before tying the knot. It'll be fine. She'll come around…baby names?" Tara briefly turned to glance at the loudmouthed woman who was absently twirling the curly phone cord around her finger. Whatever paperwork on the desk clearly wasn't as important as her gab-session.

"Have you found if it's a girl or a boy?" the young woman cawed. Tara's eyes flitted down to the shiny, little rectangle latched to the top of her way too-tight V-neck sweater. It was a silver employee tag that read: Karen Monroe, Head Manager.

"You're_ right_ I'd want to be surprised too," Karen continued. "…but wait! What about _Tristan_? That could work for a girl or a boy…it is not! ...well _I_ like it….maybe I will! Better yet I am. Tristan is officially off limits, you hear me Carlie? That's gonna be _my_ future child's name."

Tara rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of the loud phone conversation behind her. She turned away from the woman who couldn't have been older than twenty-five. As she pulled her long, chocolate brown hair up into a messy, high ponytail she wondered if Karen _or _pregnant Carlie even knew what it meant to take care of another person. At least her father could change himself when he pissed his pants. With a baby you had to do every damn thing.

"Oh trust me, honey we are a longgg ways from _that_! I want to finish my degree. And Elliot is _just_ getting started with the family business…wait hold up a second."

Tara heard the light tap of the phone's receiver as Karen sat it down on top of the stack of papers covering the corner desk. She also sensed it when Karen walked up behind her. Her silhouette reflected against the locker just as Tara slammed it shut, her bag and sweater tucked away inside of it. A pointy fingernail tapped lightly against her shoulder.

"_Excuse me,_" Karen said above Tara's ear. "Can I help you with something?"

Tara turned around to face her. Karen looked her up and down, disapproval all over her face as Tara said, "I work here now."

Karen's eyes zeroed in on the freshly engraved employee tag Tara had latched to the top of her shirt. "Who hired you?" Karen asked, her nose wrinkling. _Wow_, Tara thought. _And they say _I'm _stuck up._

"Elliot… ... he said he spoke to your mother about giving me a part-time job here," Tara explained. She jutted her chin up refusing to show her humiliation at the admission. "She agreed to let me work here three weekdays after school and alternate weekends…she didn't tell you?"

"_Elliot_ got you a job here?" Karen somehow managed to look ten times more evil when she posed the question. Before Tara could even think of a response, the she-devil spoke again. "Are you even _legal?_"

Tara bit her lip to stop the grin threatening to spread across her face. Tara recognized the look even if it wasn't one directed at _her_ very often.

_Jealousy._

"I'm fifteen," she said, fighting to hide the amusement in her voice. "I'll be sixteen in a few weeks but either way it's still legal for me to have a job here." _And we both know what you really meant to ask is if I'm old enough to be fucking your boyfriend._

"Oh. Okay." Apparently her age was enough to smooth out _most of_ the wrinkles etching into Red's forehead. "Go find Keith. He's out on the floor somewhere, probably stocking the shelves. He'll give you the run down. I've got paperwork I need to file."

Without another word Karen headed back towards the desk and sat down, picking a paper up in one hand, the phone in her other. Tara didn't know whether Karen looked her way again as she was already headed out the door to find this "Keith" person. But when she heard Karen tell her friend Carlie that she'd "talk to her later", she heard the light beep of the phone keys as Karen dialed another number.

Tara giggled under her breath when she heard Karen's say "Is Elliot there?" just as she pulled the office door closed. As she walked through the aisles in search of Monroe Market's assistant manager Tara wondered just how much trouble Elliot Oswald was going to be in for gifting a leggy, teenage brunette with a job to finance her college fund. Sometimes doing things out the goodness in your heart backfired big time.

Especially when it involved doing favors for _any _female that isn't the one you're dating.

* * *

Tara's first day of work had gone by pretty fast. There hadn't been a hitch in her shift all day. It was just after ten in the evening. Karen, the Head Manager with the _generous_ boyfriend had suggested Tara stay until closing to "learn the ropes a bit more" Tara knew it was bullshit but the joke was on her. The only Saturday night plans she'd managed to ruin was a science project due Monday morning. A project that required two people but somehow she'd end up doing solo.

Out of all the shitty lab partners she _could _have gotten her science teacher had the bright idea to pair her up with Jackson Teller, the guy who was too busy being the Prince of Charming to show up to class. Jackson Teller was like a fuckin _Solar Eclipse._ He rarely showed his face but when he did—_God_, why were the assholes always the gorgeous ones?

It was closing time. The entrance doors were already locked, all the lights were off, save for the few hanging above her head where the row of checkout lines were. All the aisles were fully restocked and all but one registered remained unclosed.

Tara chewed her lip, absently brushing at the trail of dirt with the broom in her hand. She'd been thinking hard—trying her damndest to come up with a flaw Jackson Teller had that wasn't his personality. But then a loud tap on the glass doors behind her broke her from her thoughts.

Tara turned around to see three very familiar faces standing outside the store. Gemma Teller, her son the teenage heir to the SAMCRO biker throne and his new favorite flavor Wendy Case.

"Where's Karen?" Gemma asked through the glass.

"She went home," Tara answered. Then before turning back around she added, "We're closed," just in case the _locked doors _and the sign outside _displaying_ their hours wasn't indication enough.

"I know it's late," Gemma said behind her. "But I just made last minute plans for a pancake breakfast tomorrow and their some shit I need to buy. I have a list so I'll be in and out in ten minutes the most."

Tara wondered if she'd be talking so sweetly to her if she wasn't locked out. Knowing her track record with Gemma Teller she highly doubted it.

"Sorry," Tara said not feeling sorry at all. Not even bothering to turn back around, she added, "We open at 11 a.m. on Sundays."

"Go get Karen." Tara could hear the familiar venom easing its way into Gemma's voice. "She knows the situation."

_Is this lady hard of hearing? Karen's _not here. Tara's voice would have had its own brand of venom in it when she _reminded_ Mrs. "Fuck-the-rules-I'm-SAMCRO-bitch" of what she _already _told her.

But just as she turned around, Keith materialized from somewhere in the back.

"Mrs. Teller!" Keith's voice was practically singsong as he rushed over. He quickly turned a key into the lock on the glass double-doors and they swooshed open. Then as if he were afraid her staring at him too long would turn him into stone he quickly hurried off to continue whatever it was he'd been doing before.

Naturally he had just enough time before his marathon-worthy sprint to toss the demand "_Head over to register 4! Ring them up there!_" over his shoulder.

And _in _the Queen of bikers walked.

Prince Teller followed closely behind her, his arm thrown across Wendy's shoulders as he leaned to whisper something in her ear. Whatever he said earned him a seductive grin as she angled her body towards him and pulled his face down for a kiss.

A kiss, that it seemed, they had no intention of stopping any time soon.

_Great_. What would her first shift be without the opening scene of a soft-core porn flick in the middle of the section she'd been trying to sweep?

Gemma finally noticed her teen helpers were too busy making out in front of the store's entrance instead of continuing to trail behind her. Sliding the shopping basket in her hand up her arm, her other hand flew to her hip.

"Hey, Wendy!" Wendy's lips pulled away from Jax's with a light _pop. _"How about you spend _less_ time with your lips attached to my son's face and _more_ time helping me get all the shit on my list before little Ms. _we're closed_ shuts off all of the lights and locks our asses in here?"

Wendy giggled as she walked towards Gemma, reaching inside the basket for the grocery list she'd placed inside of it. "As you wish," she said giving her a curtsy. Then she grabbed jax's arm and pulled him along with her towards the poorly-lit bakery aisle.

Jackson had yet to even look in her direction.

And _that _wasn't even the problem.

It was the fact that Tara _actually_ gave a shit. It was the fact that she couldn't figure out _why _she gave a shit.

Tara hated Jax and his whole biker family. So why was the fact that he didn't even acknowledge her twisting her up so badly she wanted to pick the nearest cash register up and launch it at the back of the handsome Outlaw's pretty blonde head?

Why did she care? She didn't like him at all.

No way.

And she had a boyfriend.

She'd been dating David Hale for going on four months. _So what _if he didn't want his family to know about them yet. He'd find a way to warm his parents up to him dating the drunk's daughter eventually. She didn't mind being his dirty little secret. It was kind of….well…_hot_.

Of course it wasn't as hot as him showing everyone how much he was into her in public—like in the middle of a supermarket.

All up close and personal in the frozen dairy section, steaming the aisle up until all the ice cream melted. Or on top of the checkout counter. _Naughty lover's_ special, no coupon scanning required. She'd bet good money that the infamous Jackson Teller would be more than willing. He'd probably make her—

_Nope_. Tara shook her head to clear the crazy that had somehow crawled in through her ears.

She would _never _want anything to do with Jackson Teller.

Jackson... was a jack-_ass._

"You okay, Sweetheart? You look a little…_red in the face_."

And his mother was a passive aggressive bitch.

"I'm fine," Tara replied. Her voice held the perfect tone of _I'm a professional, fuck you very much. _"My night would be just about perfect…_if_ I could finish closing out the store like I'm _supposed _to." Tara hoped like hell Gemma assumed the redness in her cheeks was from anger instead of embarrassment at being caught ogling her son when he swaggered off.

Gemma pulled a pack of cigarettes from her purse. Clearly she had no regard for the "No Smoking" rule either.

"I shop here all the time," Gemma commented. She brought the cancer-stick to her lips. Lighting the tip, she took a measured pull. "And this is the _first_ time I've seen you working the store."

How did all of this woman's statements always manage to come out like a question?

"Today was my first day."

"Did they show you how to ring up with coupons?"

"Nope."

Gemma reached for an abandoned sales paper on the magazine rack at the end of the checkout ramp. "Well there's actually a few in here that I could use."

Tara wanted to alter the taunting smile on Gemma's face with the barcode scanner behind the counter. A few missing teeth and Tara would have something to be amused about, too. Lucky for her Gemma didn't have long to look through the pages before Wendy and Jax came flying from the aisles, the two baskets in Jax's hands a cluttered mess of the stuff on their grocery list.

Through the corner of her eye Tara saw Jax roll his eyes at the sight of her mother flipping through the magazine on the counter.

"_Come on_, Ma." It was a neat trick the way he managed to whine at her AND pepper kisses along Wendy's collarbone as she leaned back against him. "You got a wad of bills in that luggage you call a purse. We don't need coupons. Can we just pay and go? We're meeting up with Ope' and Donna."

"This here is the Knowles kid's first night on the job," Gemma explained, an evil cheer in her voice. "She needs to get used to handling coupons. Figured I'd help further her education."

Jax pulled his lips away from Wendy's neck to look at Tara full in the face for the first time. "You're my lab partner, right?"

_You'd think you could remember that when you're _supposed _to be doing a research project with me. _

Tara couldn't believe he was actually pretending he didn't know who she was. They were friends once—Junior High school wasn't that long ago.

"We're partners for the class project too…the one due on _Monday_."

"_Shit_" Jax winced. "I completely forgot about that. What's it about again?"

"Don't worry about it," Tara answered sharply. She averted his indigo-gaze to flip through the magazine for all the coupons for the products Wendy had begun placing on the rolling checkout belt. "I'll take care of it."

"You sure?" Jax asked. Tara could tell by his tone that he wasn't about to try and convince her to accept his help. She'd be willing to bet he'd been coasting through high school with everybody doing his work for him since freshman year. That irked her _almost _as much as the fact that he couldn't seem to remember her when she'd been in the same _three_ classes as him since school started a month and a half ago.

"Trust me," Tara said, looking up at him. "It'll be better for both of us if I did all the work."

"I think she's calling you stupid, Jax," Wendy fake-whispered against his neck.

"_Fine_," Gemma interjected. She sounded more bored than bitchy for a change. "Forget the coupons. Just ring everything up. I really _do_ want to be in and out in ten minutes or less."

Tara did exactly what she asked as quickly as she could managed. Gemma wasn't the only one eager to put an ending to this late night shopping event. Jax grabbed four bags in each hand, Wendy trailing behind him as he walked away without so much as a goodnight.

"She's might be a bitch," Tara heard Wendy saying to Jax as they walked towards the exit. "But she's a _smart _bitch….I used to sit behind her for every exam when we had classes together last year. _Easy _B plus if you can copy most of the answers before Nerd-vana hands in her test paper…"

"She's a nerd alright," she heard Jax respond. "But _you're_ the smart bitch for capitalizing on that shit…"

They weren't whispering.

And they weren't speaking loudly for her benefit either. They were simply having a conversation about her as if she wasn't within earshot. Like her overhearing them didn't matter.

Because _she _didn't matter.

At least at home she _mattered_. Even if her father was too drunk off his ass to notice.

Jax's throaty chuckle mingling with Wendy's girly giggle was the last thing Tara heard before the double doors slid shut, the end of summer wind whooshing inside making the unbound pages of the magazine fly across the floor...along with the dirt scattering from the neat pile she'd swept it into.

Mr. Whitman was giving his first exam of the semester on Monday. And she'd be damned if she let that idiot copy off of her.

Tara was too preoccupied with plotting a way to avoid sitting in her assigned seat in the row next him to catch it.

If she'd been staring after him like she'd done when he was in the store she might have caught it. She might have seen when he turned his head to look back at her. She might have caught how he kept his head craned in her direction just long enough to run into his mother when she stopped short in front of him to stub the cigarette in her hand out on the parking lot ground.

And if she'd squinted just a _little _she may have even caught the fraction of a second where his eyes were filled with a begrudging interest that rivaled _any_ look of desire he'd aimed Wendy Case's way all night.

* * *

**|REVIEW| ** The feedback i get is the fuel that keeps me writing &amp; if you like the story that's what you want...right? =)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Just a heads up. I'll be limiting each chapter to either Tara's **POV **or Jax's without seeing both their thoughts at the same time. Doing my whole angst thing is easier that way. In later chapters, other characters **POV**'s may be used as well.

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

Jackson Teller would _never_ be a morning person.

Especially if it meant hearing his mother screeching for him "_to get his lazy ass up_!" every day. Gemma Teller had a funny way of deciding what _rules of life_ her son should follow. She didn't care if he drank beer or smoked weed. It never seemed to faze her how filthy his mouth was when he and Opie joked around. She had a look of pride and an "_Atta' boy_" smile when Jax had to be handcuffed for beating the shit out of David Hale that one night a couple years ago. And he _knew _she was well aware of him _borrowing _her car when he dipped out on weeknights. Fifteen year old Jackson Teller pretty much did whatever he wanted on a regular basis and he got no reprimands from Gemma.

"_Ten minutes! And then I'm dragging your ass across your bedroom floor!"_

But for reasons beyond his understanding she still _insisted _he go to high school. It wasn't as if he needed a diploma to qualify for the lifestyle they lived. He seriously didn't get his mother sometimes.

Jax rolled over, squinting his eyes at the digital clock on the nightstand next to his bed. _5:25_ A.M. The word _ungodly _came to mind. He took his sweet time getting ready, too. He dragged his feet as he blindly picked a t-shirt from his dresser and a pair of jeans from inside his closet. His white Nikes were exactly where he'd kicked them off the night before. He was almost finished tying the laces on his right sneaker when something occurred to him.

He looked behind him at the girl in his bed. Wendy was fast asleep, tangled up in his sheets, dirty blonde hair all over the place.

"Pssttt. _Wendy_," Jax whispered.

She didn't move even an inch.

"_Wendy!_" He called her again, just loud enough that he wouldn't alert his mother. The last thing he wanted was another lecture about him letting them "Cr_oweater bitches" _sleep in her house. Especially since Wendy Case wasn't even one of them. She wasn't an Old Lady wannabe. And she for damn sure wasn't his girlfriend. Wendy and Jax just got along really well. And it made perfect sense.

Wendy Case was Jax _with breasts_—and maybe a little less charisma and _a lot_ more family dysfunction.

Sure, she liked to have a good time—and Jax was always eager to _give her one—_but she also liked having a place to lay her head that didn't include a Junkie mother who let her married boyfriend beat on her every other weekend. They weren't soul mates. They were kindred spirits.

Giving up on waking her by calling out her name, Jax walked around to her side of the bed and shook her.

"What?" Wendy grumbled. Blonde waves falling all over her face he could just barely make out when she opened her eyes to glare up at him.

"I got breakfast with my folks," Jax said pointing down at the floor. "And _you_ have a scheduled trip through that window," he added pointing at her exit, "unless you want to stay for some oatmeal with a side of _what the fuck you doing here?_"

Wendy groaned. She sat up, her long hair falling over her naked chest. "What time is it?"

Jax leaned down towards her, his blue eyes narrowing as he studied her dark-brown ones. She seemed more hung over than usual. "Did you take something last night?"

"Like what?" Wendy yawned as she reached for her bra on the floor next to the bed.

"You know what I mean." Wendy looked up at the hardness in his voice as she slid her panties up over her hips.

"I knocked back way too many shots ... _just like _you_ and Opie_," Wendy snapped. She bent over grabbing her wrinkled jeans from the pile of clothes littering his bedroom floor. When she finished zipping and buttoning them she looked up to see the contempt and suspicion in Jax's eyes hadn't faltered one bit.

"_Jesus_ _Christ_, Jax. All the bullshit I have to go through because my mom can't stop shooting that crap in her arm. Do you honestly think I would even _consider_ messing with any of the hard stuff?"

There was a pregnant pause when neither of them said anything. Instead they stared in each other's eyes—Wendy's were wide, one freshly waxed eyebrow cocked up towards her unruly bangs.

A minute went by before Jax's face finally softened. "You sleep like the dead."

Wendy giggled and the tension in the air melted away. "You try living in _my_ house for a week. I guarantee you'll learn to tune out anything. _Even _Gemma's Monday morning drill-sergeant routine."

"I _guess._" Jax's smile said _yeah, I _doubt _it. _He picked up her shirt before she could reach for it and handed it to her. "I'll see you in history." _If me and Ope don't dip out earlier._

"If you and Ope bother to bring your truant asses to class," Wendy remarked.

Jax chuckled as he headed for his bedroom door. "Later, Darlin'."

"_Hey, Jax_." Wendy's voice was unusually quiet. Jax looked back at her, his fingers curled around the door knob. He nodded his head at her.

"Yeah?"

Wendy's smile was neither teasing nor seductive. It was just _that. _A smile.

"Thanks," Wendy said. Before his eyebrows could fully knot together she quickly added, "For caring, I mean….it's nice knowing you care about me."

Jax nodded, unsure of what exactly she expected him to say.

Nothing apparently.

Wendy turned away, throwing her other leg out over the window sill and began tiptoeing across the roof, boots in her hand.

Jax stood there a little while after the head of wild blonde curls disappeared from view. He hadn't meant to come off like a concerned boyfriend. It was the _principle_ of it. Drug addicts—especially people his age—made his skin crawl. But now that she'd said it he couldn't deny it. He _did_ care about Wendy. He might not have been into her in a "hold her hand and play with her hair" kind of way. But he'd care if she was on the road to becoming her train wreck of a mother. He'd really hate that shit. It'd be such a waste.

_"__Jackson! Breakfast is getting cold! Let's _go_!"_

Jackson picked his school notebook off of the floor by the door where he'd tossed it last Friday. Folding it in half he tucked it in the back pocket of his baggy jeans and walked out into the hallway to head to breakfast. He really hoped his dad was in a better mood. JT hadn't been right since he got back from Belfast a couple weeks ago.

The Teller Pride wouldn't let him speak on it but he _really_ missed his dad. He missed the devoted father he used to be—_before Thomas got sick._

* * *

The rest of Jax's morning went along exactly as he expected.

_Until he left his house._

Back at the Teller residence everything was business as usual. Gemma went on and on about shit she didn't really care about just to fill the silence. His father sat in his chair at the head of dining room table, scribbling away in some book. Periodically he'd reach for the steaming coffee mug his wife had sat in front of him—but that was it. Jax barely got a "good morning, son." He barely glimpsed the forlornness and confliction in his father's eyes before they disappeared into the pages filled with words Jax couldn't decide if he wanted to sneak a peek at.

Jax ate his oatmeal in uncomfortable silence. And when the rumble of _Piney's_ Harley sounded from the front yard, Jax watched as his father tucked his notebook inside the leather kutte on his back and said goodbye to his Old Lady with a kiss that was almost an afterthought. "I'll see you later, Son," JT said, briefly bracing his hands on Jax's shoulders before feeling the kitchen. It wasn't the physically leaving his family that made Jax's chest feel hollow. It was the fact that lately JT was never really there even when he was sitting right in front of him.

Ten minutes later Jax was sliding into the front passenger seat, a lit cigarette in his hand as his mom pulled out of the driveway to drop him off at Opie's on her way to _Teller-Morrow_. As usual the music humming from the radio eliminated the need to talk about how far away JT was from both of them.

And when Gemma stopped the car in front of the driveway of the home directly across the street from Opie's house Jax turned towards his mother to kiss her goodbye—like he always did—and say "I'll see you later, Ma."

He _did _kiss her cheek but when he pulled back to reach for the door, the bit about seeing her later died on his lips as something across the street caught his eye.

She was moving so fast he'd almost missed her. He'd recognize those legs and that mop of brown hair anywhere. What the hell was _Tara Knowles _doing sneaking back into her house on a Monday morning? Jax craned his neck to get a better view of her backyard.

"What the hell are you looking at?"

Jax ignored his mother completely. _Hhmmm_. There were no houses on the other side of the fence behind her house—just the highway.

It didn't _appear _to be the walk of shame. Jax had never heard of a one night stand where the girl packed pajamas to wear home the next morning. He highly doubted she'd gone for a morning jog in purple flannel PJ's and if she _had_ why would she climb her backyard fence instead of jogging back through her front yard? It didn't even looked like she'd come from there anyway. It looked more like she'd came from inside Opie's—

Suddenly, Opie's face appeared as he leaned his head out of what Jax knew full well was his _bedroom _window. Opie yelled something Jax couldn't quite make out at Tara's retreating figure just as she climbed up into the window on the side of her house. If _Tara_ heard him she didn't act like it. Instead of responding she pushed the window closed and pulled the blinds down shortly after.

_What the fuck?_

"You want to know something?" Gemma's voice barely cut through the thoughts swirling in his brain about what he just saw. "It doesn't matter how old you shitheads are. _Fifteen_ or _thirty-five_. You fools are always sticking your dicks where they don't belong."

"Huh?"

"Opie," Gemma answered, pursing her lips. "Isn't he dating that Donna Lewis girl? I know you boys are young but if you want be single... ... ... you men really are all the same… ... ... and another thing!"

Gemma's mouth was steadily moving but the sound emitting from it wasn't registering. All Jax could think was _I'm not hallucinating. My mother seen it, too. _He'd just saw Tara sneaking out Opie's house. His best friend with the sweet-as-pie girlfriend the _Club _wouldn't stop giving him hell about was cheating. And oddly enough him cheating on Donna wasn't even what was bothering him.

It was _who_ he was cheating with.

Of all the skirts chasing after them with hopes of being Old Lady's to the future of SAMCRO why did he have to be screwing Tara Knowles?

And why the _fuck _did he care so much? Tara _hated _him. And in recent years he discovered he couldn't stand her ass either. So why was his blood boiling? Why did it feel like he was seeing Opie's house through infrared like he was the fuckin predator? It was like Wendy and the drugs _all over again_ only somehow he felt twice as irritated and he didn't even care about Tara. He didn't even know her.

Well, he _used_ to know her.

They used to be friends. In the second grade they both got to stay home with Mary at Piney's house when they got the chicken pox. To this day his mother still insisted that _Tara _had been the one to give _him _the cooties. She was the first girl whose honor he'd ever defended. He'd kicked Jacob Hale Jr. in the nuts for calling Tara an Orphan when she corrected his pronunciation of the word "voluptuous". They used to joke about it whenever the girl he'd been _trying_ to flirt with walked pass them in Jr. High. They used to joke about a lot of things. He knew the Tara Knowles from way back when like the back of his hand.

But that was years ago.

They were in high school now. A lot of shit changed since the elementary years. Now instead of a smile he was greeted with a scowl. And that was when she bothered to look his way at all.

He felt like a damn fool the other night at the grocery store. He thought his neck might have a permanent cramp in it after how hard he had to try _not _looking at her. To her, it seemed that ignoring him was an art form. Jax was determined to give her the same treatment.

Gemma rolled down her window as Opie crossed the street towards them.

"Donna's a real sweetheart, Ope," Gemma commented. "Quit acting like you're a free dick before she realizes you don't actually deserve her." _Lecturing a teenage _BOY_ about relationships. you're on a roll today, Ma._

Opie Winston's usual "Good morning, Gemma" sounded a little more like "_What the fuck are you talking about?"_ when he said it.

When Jax slammed the passenger door shut Opie briefly looked up from the stern glare of the SAMCRO matriarch's face to look over at her son. The brooding expression on Jax's face made Opie do a double take to make sure it wasn't John Teller that got out of the car.

"You make sure you go to _all_ your classes, Jackson!"

Jax tapped the hood of the car instead of responding. The moment he cleared the front of it Gemma drove off.

"What's up, bro." Judging by the Opie's grunt, Jax may have slapped his best friend on the back a little harder than usual when they hugged.

"You having slumber parties now?"

The question—which sounded _exactly _like the accusation it was—flew off his tongue before he even pulled away from the hug. Jax blew smoke out through his nose. Annoyed as he was he still passed the cigarette in his hand over to Opie.

Opie took a lung-scorching pull from it before responding. "Did someone forget to tell me about _Speak in riddle Monday's _or something? What's with you and Gemma and the random ass comments and questions?"

Jax's eyes held a menacing gleam in the ocean blue. The threatening smile spreading across his face was identical to the one the one he normally wore whenever he caught Kyle Hobart bragging to Wendy about him _prospecting_ with the _SONS. _ Kyle was constantly killing his buzz trying to flirt with the chick who was leaving with _him_ at the end of the night. Hobart was a pain in the ass. But this was Opie, his best pal standing in front of him. What the hell was wrong with him? With Wendy he knew it wasn't about jealousy but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what _this _was. All he knew was that whatever it was he shouldn't put it on Ope.

"The fuck is wrong with you, bro?" Opie looked confused instead of offended.

"It's nothing man," Jax said. The threatening smile disappeared. "Gemma was giving me a lecture, bitchin about how men mistreat women when you walked out. For some reason this came to mind when she was staring over at _your _house."

"What the hell do I have to do with that?"

"She thinks your cheating on Donna." _And we _both_ saw Tara Knowles sneaking out of your window._

"I'd _never_ cheat on Donna." Opie glared.

So much for him being the coolheaded one.

"_You asked_, bro." Jax shrugged his shoulders.

Opie looked away towards his father's truck. He pulled at the beanie on his head, needlessly adjusting it. "_I love her, man_," he admitted quietly. Then, clearing his throat he stalked off. Jax heard the click of the driver's side door of the truck opening before Opie shouted, "Come on, man. We still have to stop by Donna's on the way to school."

Jax shook his head as he walked around to the passenger side of the pickup. He didn't know if it was to try to clear all the confusing thoughts in his brain or if it was because he couldn't believe how much of a softie his best friend was turning into. He and Opie always kept it real with one another. When Opie spoke he always knew he could take him at his word. But if he wasn't cheating on Donna…_what the hell was Tara doing sneaking out of his bedroom?_

Maybe he'd have time to ask _her _in their third period math class—_before_ they took that stupid math exam.

Gemma and Piney were wacked in the head if they thought they were doing right by their children by making them go through all the bullshit motions as if they were _anything_ like those other Charming high school teenagers. _Their_ future was SAMCRO—_not_ University. So really, what was the point?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **The **(M)** rating for this FanFic is for the "good stuff" that happens later but as of now I'm writing about a group of **teenagers** so scrub the grown up versions of our favorite characters from your minds and _just go with it._ There's a method to my madness, I promise.

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

"Tara, wake up," Opie whispered. Tara stirred immediately. Opening her eyes, she glanced towards the early morning light seeping into the room.

"_Shit_." Tara jumped up from the bed, darting across Opie's bedroom floor towards the window. She angled a bare foot over and out of it when it occurred to her that it might be a good idea to put her slippers back on first.

"Relax," Opie said as she bent over to pull her house shoes from underneath his bed. "My dad already left. I just didn't think you'd appreciate it if I let you oversleep."

Tara shoved her feet in both slippers, and quickly grabbed the robe she'd almost forgotten from the on top of his dresser, wrapping it around her body before she even looked in his direction again.

"_This is the last time_," Tara said, her eyes focused somewhere on the wall behind him.

"Yuuup."

Tara cocked her head as she studied his expression. He was smiling at her but his smile lacked the gloat any other guy's might have had. She knew that there would probably be a next time. And she knew that _he_ knew it, too. Yet he always took her vow to never climb through his window again at face value.

"Thank you," Tara mumbled. Then before he could see the embarrassment reddening her face she headed for the window again with even more urgency.

"If you _want_ I can give you a ride to school," Opie offered just as she pushed the window up. Still gripping the windowpane, Tara turned to face him.

He was picking his pillow and the Afghan blanket he'd took from his living room couch off of the corner of his bedroom floor where he'd slept the night before.

Folding the blanket in half Opie tossed it on his bed, covering the single, fading imprint she'd left in the middle of it. Then _almost _as an afterthought he added, "I usually pick Donna up first. Then Jax if his mother doesn't drop him off."

She was _almost_ considering it until he mentioned _Prince Charming_.

"I'd rather walk." Tara answered more sharply than she intended. Then she added, softly, "Thanks anyway."

Tara hopped out of the window, her feet firmly planted on the ground. She was almost at the side window of her house when she heard Opie shout after her, "You forgot your pillow!"

She was about to turn back and get it when through the corner of her eye she noticed a familiar car parked across the street from her house.

_Gemma Teller_.

That could only mean one thing: _The Prince had arrived_.

No way in hell she was going back now. She made a mad dash for the half-cracked window of her dining room. She yanked the blinds shut the second she twisted the top lock back on. She didn't have the nerve to check so instead of peering through the window at the car, the whole way to her bedroom she silently prayed that neither Gemma nor her son had seen her sneaking out of the Winston house.

* * *

Opie had the right idea waking Tara up when he did. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. Tara was delighted to find that her father had went back out when she'd escaped the night before. And with the _migraine-inducer_ gone for the morning she had extra time to spend on herself.

She took a shower longer than ten minutes without Arthur Knowles banging on the door, yelling for her to "_stop wasting water!_" Instead of going to school with her poorly towel-dried hair in a disastrous, frizzing ponytail, she'd had time to take a flat iron to it and actually wear it down for a change. She was only responsible for breakfast for _one _and she'd even had time to do some extra studying for her third period math test.

Tara was in good spirits as she walked the couple blocks over to Charming High. Her almost-run in with the Tellers—and even her father's latest _episode_ was all but forgotten.

Tara saw Jax first—_naturally_.

True to form he had his armed wrapped around Wendy Case's shoulders.

A pint-sized brunette Tara recognized from her P.E class was sitting in Opie's lap, smiling at something he was saying, while he ran his fingers through her hair. _Must be that Donna chick he's always yakking it up with on the phone_,Tara thought. She briefly contemplated walking up to them to say hi. But then the sound of Wendy's laughter cleared the notion from her mind. Blondie was grating her nerves. Seriously, how did Jax put up with that obnoxious giggle all the time?

Judging by the scene playing out in front of her, Tara had a pretty good idea. Jax angled his body towards her, slowly, unabashedly sliding his hand up her skirt. Tara watched as Wendy's hand clamped down on his from outside of the barely there fabric. No giggle this time. Just _the stare_.

It was _Lolita_: the Wendy Case edition.

Leaning into him, she whispered something in his ear. How the hell was she supposed to walk past that? She had to turn away before she lost her breakfast.

She saw David _next._

Avoiding the public display of _nasty _on the front steps she scanned the parking lot. That was where she spotted him—her boyfriend of four months, leaning against his brother's truck. A couple of other members of football team were gathered around his brother. Whatever Jacob Hale was saying didn't seem to interest his younger brother much because David was doing some avoiding of his own.

That was when their eyes met. When Tara's eyes locked with his, David's face lit up. Tara smiled back but when she moved to walk towards him his expression changed. In a matter of seconds he went from a grin that said he was happy to see her to a look of guilt as he subtly shook his head once, his eyes darting to where his brother stood.

_Message received. _

It was PDA central on Charming High's front steps. And as she approached the stairs Tara couldn't help but feel a little bitter. It was times like these when dating someone in secret really fuckin sucked.

She climbed the steps two at a time, blowing past all the couples mocking her with their stupid, lovey-dovey, public displays of bullshit.

"_Tara._"

She was SO close.

She'd almost made it past them when Opie's voice rang out behind her. Tara paused, her fingers still curled around the entrance door handle. She didn't turn back around until she heard footsteps approaching—multiple footsteps.

"Hi, _Harry_." Tara swallowed her smile when Opie's nose wrinkled. He hated being called by his first name. But you know what she hated? Being stuck in awkward situations. And him calling her out…and his friends—friends she either _didn't know_ or _couldn't stand_—following behind him when he approached her was the very definition of awkward—well, that and _annoying._

"_Yes?_" Tara prompted when he didn't say anything right away. She was ready to make a break for it. It was one thing that they couldn't be a couple in public. Standing several feet away from him while David pretended she wasn't there was another.

Opie cleared his throat. "Umm…so this is Donna." He waved a hand towards the short, dark-haired girl standing next to him.

"Hi," Donna said, extending her hand towards her. Tara looked at it and then up at Opie. She cocked an eyebrow as if to say, _is she forreal? _

Jax chuckled and four pairs of eyes snapped to him. "What the hell is this, Ope?" Jax asked, his own eyebrows raised. "Are we gonna hold hands and sing Kumbaya or something?"

"No one asked you to follow us." Donna rolled her eyes. "Opie wanted to introduce us. You and," Donna eyes narrowed on Wendy, "What was your name again?"

"Are you seriously going to pretend you don't know—"

"_Anyway_," Donna continued, her voice rising over Wendy's. She turned her attention towards Jax, ignoring his companion completely.

Tara felt like hugging her.

"This conversation doesn't concern you, Teller," Donna scolded. "So _be gone_."

"What the hell is he introducing you for?" Jax looked over at Opie who suddenly found the brick wall of the school very interesting. "Don't you already have gym with her?"

_Why does he know who I have classes with,_ Tara wondered.

"They have _English_ together, too," Wendy volunteered. "I know because I'm in the same class."

"That doesn't mean I _know_ her," Donna snapped. Tara had a feeling it was more at _Wendy_ than her boyfriend's BFF. "I just figured we could maybe get to know each other. Especially since she's always ov—," Opie nudged her shoulder, his eyes bouncing down from that one spot on the wall, to meet hers. There was a _warning _in them. A silent message passed between the two of them—one that made Tara feel sick to her stomach.

_Damn it, Opie._

"Since she's always _what_?" Jax pressed. Tara blanched at the look of suspicion on Jax's face.

First chance she got, _she was going to kill Opie_.

"I just wanted to get to know her better," Donna explained lamely. "She seemed nice but I figured she was shy so when Opie said they were neighbors, I—"

"_Oh please,_" Wendy interjected. "Now I _know _you're full of shit. Tara doesn't _seem nice _to anyone." Wendy turned towards Jax. "Donna could have _ten _classes with her and it wouldn't make a difference. It's not as if little miss _I'm better than everyone _ever bothers to acknowledge anyone that isn't giving her an A-plus at the end of the semester."

"Who the fuck asked _you?_" Donna's eyes blazed.

_Damn it, _Tara thought. _Now I _like_ her. Which sucks, since I'm gonna kill her boyfriend later. _

"Jesus Christ." Opie's eyes were back on the wall.

Jax was laughing his ass off. "_Uh oh_," he said. "Tinkerbelle has a temper."

"I'm starting to see why Opie wanted to introduce them," Wendy grumbled. "_Tinkerbell's_ the perfect friend for her. _And she's an even_ bigger_ bitch_."

"What'd you call me?"

"I'm _sorry_, was I supposed to call you _Donna_ instead? I thought we were pretending we didn't remember each other's names."

"I'll give you something to remember," Donna snapped.

Opie grabbed his girlfriend's arm, Jax slid between the two girls, and Tara watched the whole thing in silence. Even when the topic was _her_ she was still somehow on the outside of it all.

"Listen," Jax said, looking back and forth between them. "Y'all need to relax… look at who you're arguing over. Tara doesn't care about either one of y'all so what you getting all emotional for?"

"You don't know who I care about, Teller," Tara seethed. Everyone turned to face her. "And while I have your attention how about you do me a favor and stop talking _about me_ as if I'm not standing right in front of you. Have some fuckin manners."

Wendy giggled. "Aww. Are we supposed to feel bad because _you_ feel invisible?"

"_Wendy_—"

Jax cut Opie off before he could finish his sentence.

"—what's the matter, Knowles?" Jax sneered. "Loneliness finally getting to you?"

"_Go to hell_."

"Believe me, I'm already there, Darlin'."

"Me, _too_," Opie mumbled under his breath. Donna slapped his arm.

"Come on, Wendy," Jax said, shaking his head. "Donna's right. This ain't got shit to do with us. Have fun hanging out with _my _friends."

Jax and Wendy strolled right past them—probably to go find an unsupervised janitor's closet.

"_Wow_." Tara looked up at the shock in Donna's voice. She wasn't angry anymore. Just that quick she was amused about something. "You were right," Donna said to Opie. "Tara _really is_ the reason Jax is—,"

"—Donna!"

"_What_?! It's not as if it's _one sided_."

"I'm the reason Jax is _what?_" Tara's heart was beating a bruise against her rib-cage all of a sudden. Instead of finishing her statement Donna's face broke into a calculating smile that _screamed _she knew something Tara didn't.

Before Tara could work it out in her head how she could get away with _two _murders now, the warning bell finally rang.

Where the hell was that thing when she needed an excuse to walk away before?

Tara fixed her mouth to tell them she had to go so she wouldn't be late for History.

But then David walked past and the puzzled expression on his face threw her off course. She could tell by his face alone that he'd been watching her the whole time. For a moment it looked like he actually wanted to stop and ask her what the hell she was doing with _them. _Tara was happy he didn't, because she wouldn't of had an answer for him.

"We gotta go," Donna said. Tara snapped her attention back to the couple standing in front of her. She watched as Opie laced his fingers in hers. "I need to make sure _this _one actually goes to class instead of dipping out the side exit with that _asshole_ Teller."

_And now I kinda like her again._

"Bye," Tara said quickly.

"We'll talk in P.E," Donna said, looking back as they walked off. "Then I can figure out how I'm going to get you and J—"

"—Donna!"

"_Fine,_" Donna snapped, mock outrage marring her cherubic features. "We'll just talk about how annoying _you _are instead."

_Blabbing to your girlfriend about me spending the night in your bedroom after you _promised _not to tell a soul. _

Donna had no idea just how _annoying _her boyfriend really was.

* * *

**|REVIEW|**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **I _LOVE_ angst! And hate-you-even-when-i-love-you (or vice versa) relationships…you know….in case that wasn't obvious.

**Whispers… they're teenagers. Don't forget they're teenagers.

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

Jackson Teller wasn't one for solving mysteries.

And normally he didn't give a shit who Opie spent his nights with. But_ something_ was going on between his best friend and the girl who loved to hate him—and it was driving him crazy.

_JACKSON TELLER, PLEASE REPORT TO THE MATH DEPARTMENT IMMEDIATELY._

Correction: _She _was driving him crazy.

He knew it was her—he knew she was the reason he was being pulled out of class before he even knocked on the office door. He knew it before he saw her sitting in one of the two chairs in front of their math teacher Mr. Whitman's desk.

"Good," the balding teacher said. He waved a hand towards the empty chair. "Have a seat Jackson."

Jax was shocked Tara even bothered looking up at him when he moved to sit in the chair next to hers. He couldn't remember the last time she smiled at him instead of scowling.

Of course, her smile was almost as nasty as the glare he usually got.

Oh, she was _loving_ _this_.

Or at least she _would_ be.

One thing Tara would do well to remember was that Prince Charming—_as they called him_—always found a way out of getting punished.

She thought she could get a rise out of him by snitching?

_Challenge accepted_, _Babe._

"You're behavior has improved significantly since last year, Mr. Teller," Mr. Whitman began. "I have to say I'm disappointed to find that we're back at square one."

Jax's face was the picture of innocence as he peered over at Mr. Whitman from across the cluttered math department desk.

"I have no idea why I'm here," Jax lied. "I was in my history class, learning all these interesting facts about the Great Depression. And then all of a sudden I'm being called into your office. What gives _Wit?_"

"_Whitman_," Mr. Whitman corrected. "_Mr. Whitman_."

Jax just shrugged his shoulders, smiling.

"He cheated off of my test."

Jax turned to face the green-eyed brunette sitting in the chair next to him for the first time—the first time _directly_, that is.

Jax had been covertly watching her through the corner of his eye ever since he sat down. He couldn't tell if she was angry or nervous—maybe both. Either way something was making her breathe heavy. The rapid rise and fall of her chest was very distracting.

_Tara Knowles_—Charming High School's know-it-all.

Jax didn't know _what _Opie saw in her or what made Donna want to be friends with her. Pretty much everyone else he knew that crossed paths with her knew Tara as the rude, short-tempered nerd with a drunk for a daddy. She had a perfect GPA and a fucked up everything else.

Well, _almost _everything_._ He couldn't deny she had a few other things going for her. As nasty as her attitude was Tara was gorgeous. And it never looked like she tried at all.

But he'd been damned if he let _her _know that.

Turning to his right he sneered at her as he spoke to their teacher. "She's lying, Mr. Wit. I would _never_ cheat on an exam." Then he turned back to face him with a boyish grin meant to both charm and disarm. "You know math is my favorite subject."

"Then maybe you should try studying for it instead of cheating."

"I didn't cheat off of you," Jax said dryly. He began picking imaginary dirty from underneath his fingernails.

Tara didn't even bother looking in his direction and Jax regretted not getting to see the fire he'd started in those emerald eyes. Instead she stared pointedly at their math teacher. "He gets away with _everything_. He's the reason I had to spend all weekend doing my science project _alone—"_

_"_As oppose to what?" Jax interrupted. _And she complained about _me _talking about her as if she isn't there._

"Excuse me?"

"What else were you gonna do on a Saturday night? You make a new friend I don't know about, Knowles?"

_Someone to help you make a voodoo doll of me and Wendy so you can stick needles in it?_

"Fuck you, Teller." Instead of getting angry Jax just laughed.

_I wish._

"Language, Ms. Knowles!"

"You want to reprimand somebody, Mr. Whitman?" Tara seethed. "How about you punish him for copying somebody else's work? Try that. You can make history by being the first teacher that didn't let him manipulate you."

_He probably would—well him or Mrs. O-_Queef.

"You just heard her," Jax argued. He waved a hand in her direction. "She's lying on me because she's pissed I didn't help her with our science project. I don't know _why_ since I specifically remember her telling me to stay out of it because any _help_ I had to offer would lower our grade."

"You ever hear the saying excuses are like ass-holes?" Tara questioned.

Mr. Whitman cleared his throat. "I think we're all familiar with that particular—"

"Whoever said it was wrong," Tara said, glaring at Jax. "I think it should be _assholes always have_ _excuses."_

"I checked both of your grades," Mr. Whitman cut in. "Your score was 98%, Ms. Knowles. Teller here only got an 88."

_I could have had a 98 too if I hadn't been distracted._

Tara rolled her eyes. "Oh, _please. _Even Prince Charming is smart enough to know not to copy _all_ of the answers. _I saw him looking at my paper._"

Jax watched as Mr. Whitman's eyes scanned through the two exam papers on the desk side by side in front of him. From the look on his face he knew their math teacher had reached a conclusion.

One that was seriously going to fuck up his afternoon plans.

_Time to go with Plan B_.

Jax sighed loudly. "Look Mr. Whitman," Jax said, his voice monotone. "I did glance over at Tara. And I'll admit I may have stared a bit too long but I promise you I wasn't staring at her test paper."

Tara scoffed, her arms folded across her chest. "Oh yeah? What the hell were you looking at then?"

"I was looking down your shirt." _88 instead of 98. Those last ten points were _sooo _worth it though._

Tara's face turned beet-red and Jax wished he had a camera to capture the moment.

"Mr. Teller!"

"You're disgusting!"

_And you're hot when you're angry._

Mr. Whitman and Tara shouted out at the same time.

"What?" Jax said grinning widely. "If she didn't want me to look she should stop with all the V-necks." _And the tight shorts_, Jax added in his head as his eyes trailed down to her legs.

"You're being very inappropriate, Mr. Teller."

Jax raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you seriously telling me you didn't notice? I was under the impression that you liked em' young Mr. Wit." Jax winked at him, waiting patiently for his words to sink in.

Tara gasped. She turned towards Jax with a look of disbelief on her face. But Jax was too busy watching Mr. Whitman turn his own shade of beet-red.

_Yeah that's right Motherfucker_. _I know _all _about your one on one tutoring sessions with Tina that redhead freshman with the nice tits._

After a moment, Mr. Whitman cleared his throat. Jax didn't bother masking the shit-eating grin on his face when his math teacher said just what he expected.

"Consider this your _final_ warning, Mr. Teller," Mr. Whitman said. He began fumbling with his tie. "Next time there's a problem I will bring it straight to Principal Mason. We clear?"

"_Hell fuckin no," _Tara snapped.

_Angry sex. Stop thinking about angry sex with the girl that calls you Prince Smarm-ing._

"We're not clear on anything," Tara complained. "What the hell is the point of me working overtime, studying hard if all you have to do to get by in this school is flash a pretty smile and make inappropriate comments to your teachers?"

"You think I have a pretty smile?' Jax teased. Tara flipped him off without even looking in his direction.

"Ms. Knowles—"

"—I guess SAMCRO doesn't just have the cops on their payroll. They have the educators blowing them, too."

_Great. You sound like that douche bag Hale._

"Watch it, Ms. Knowles."

"Or what? You'll give me a _final warning?"_

"No, but I will give you detention," Mr. Whitman said, sporting an indignant glare of his own. "Three days, starting _this afternoon_, Ms. Knowles."

Jax was sure if he looked closely he could see steam coming out of Tara's ears.

"_Wow_," Jax said, his eyes wide and filled with mischief. "You try to get _me_ in trouble and you end up being the one with detention. I would say karma's a bitch….but we both know Karma has nothing on you, Darlin'."

* * *

As it turned out, Karma didn't discriminate.

Tara may have gotten in trouble for trying to snitch on him. But he _did_ cheat off of her test so naturally the Universe found a way of evening out the score.

Mr. Whitman may have screwing one of his students, but Jax didn't have shit on _Mrs. O'Keefe_. That Irish gash was on the warpath ever since her daughter got suspended.

She blamed Jax for her precious _Maisey_ being caught on her knees in the third floor Janitor's closet. As if it was _his_ fault she didn't remember to lock the door. He _did _have other things on his mind…as everyone in the crowded hallway saw when Wendy yanked the door open. They'd had a good laugh about it later on that day.

Jax hadn't even heard the bell ring. All his focus had been on Maize and reminding her to watch her teeth.

Jax wasn't laughing now.

Thanks to Wendy's little prank he had detention for the next three days. _Excessive tardiness my ass_, Jax fumed as he walked down the empty third floor hallway. _You're daughter blew me for the school to see and now _you're _blowing me. And you're using more teeth than she did._

Jax wrenched the cafeteria door open. He was hoping Mr. Whitman was the teacher in charge of afterschool detention for the week. That would mean he could blackmail his way out of staying.

Karma, karma, karma.

There was no Whitman in sight. But then neither was any other teacher.

It was just Tara.

As usual she didn't notice him. But for once it wasn't blatant ignorance. Tara was in her own little world—or rather, the world of Shakespeare. She was flipping through the pages of a book he automatically recognized.

She was sitting with her back against the wall, on top of the lunch table at the far end of the room. Her brown hair flitted ever-so lightly around her face from the wind seeping in through the open floor-to-ceiling window. In the direct sunlight he could make out the golden streaks in her hair from several feet away. And when he got closer, she looked up at him and her eyes were a sparkling emerald.

Undeniable beauty _and_ a bad attitude—dangerous combination.

"I didn't know you were into Shakespeare, now," Jax said, smiling despite her glare.

"There's about fifteen other tables you can sit at or _on_." Her knees were drawn up towards her chest, the novel resting on top of them. She flipped a page and resumed reading like he wasn't there.

Jax raised his arms above his head before slapping them to his sides. "What the hell is your problem?"

_THWACK._

Tara snapped the book in her hand shut. "Excuse me?"

"Why are you always such a frigid bitch?"

"Fuck you."

Jax's smile lacked the mirth it usually held. "_Yeah. _Either me or someone else. _Somebody_ needs to get you laid. Maybe then you won't be so fuckin miserable."

Jax waited for the fireworks. He waited for her to flip out, call him an asshole—launch the book in her hand at his forehead.

She did none of the above.

Instead Tara sat _Hamlet_ down on the table.

Her green eyes locked with his, rooting him where he stood. Tara crossed one long, shapely leg over the other, slowly caressing the one on top. Up and down her hand slid. Each time her fingers traveled closer to the spot where her denim shorts ended, and his imagination began.

"I think you're right, Jax," Tara breathed. "_Maybe _I should let you slide your hand up my shorts… … Or better yet _maybe _I should just meet you in the janitor's closet…or I could always stop by Club Reaper, let you take me back to one of those infamous dorm rooms so you can help me get rid of all this tension I have."

_Aw, fuck._

"Darlin' I'd be more than—"

"—_or_ I could save myself a trip to the doctor for whatever venereal disease you'll give me and _buy a fuckin vibrator._"

Tara flipped him her middle finger before grabbing her book and pulling her knees back up to her chest to resume reading it.

"I don't know what I did to make you hate me," Jax admitted. "And you know what? I've gone this long not knowing. I think I'll keep it that way because at this point _I really don't give a shit._"

Jax turned on his heel, swaggering off towards the exit.

Fuck detention. It wasn't like he actually cared if they suspended him for not being present. He didn't want to be in school to begin with. And the reasons why were steadily piling up.

"I don't _hate_ you, Jax." Jax spun around to face her. "I hate _your family_."

"That's the same thing as hating _me_."

Tara shook her head, looking up from the open book in her hand. "I used to think that, too. I used to hate you as much as the rest of them but then I realized you're just a victim. You're like _me. _You can't help the family you were born into—"

"—oh give me a fuckin break." Jax glared. "You really expect me to believe that stick up your ass is because you pity me? And just so we're clear I don't need your fuckin pity. My family—"

"—they're criminals," Tara challenged. "They never see any justice for half the bad shit they do and you're no different."

"I'm supposed to feel guilty because I sleep around? Because I have better shit to do then memorize all the formulas for a stupid math test?"

"You really think I care about that?"

"Of course you do! Why the hell else would try to get me in trouble?"

Tara hopped up from the table, her feet stomping when she stood up on top of it.

"Maybe I want you to be held accountable for something for once in your life!"

"Who _the fuck_ appointed you as the judge of what I do?"

"Jackson—"

"NO! _Hold on a second_. You want to claim you're looking out for me? Is that it? Trying to teach me some sort of life lesson… _for my own good_" Jax climbed on top of the table with her. "I should be looking out for you, too, Tara. Maybe I should hit up my father's _good buddy_ the cop. I bet _being on his payroll_ means he won't mind lending me a Breathalyzer. I could check _you_ every day to make sure you're not turning into your _drunk daddy._"

"Unser's lending out Police equipment, _is he_?" Tara's voice was low and deadly. "Where the fuck was this Breathalyzer when you and your redneck family almost killed Sarah?"

Confusion temporarily abated his anger. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"She almost _died_, Jax." Tara wiped angry tears from her eyes. "And then your family ran her off."

"Great." Jax rolled his eyes. "Another round of the _SAMCRO DID IT! _game. This shit is getting real old, Tara."

"I doubt it'll _ever_ get old for her brother."

"Oh _I don't doubt that_," Jax sneered. "But what the hell does Hale have to do with you hating my—"

"—I watched his sister collapse in front of _your_ house! They pumped her stomach and she still didn't wake up until almost a week later!"

"You think it's _my fault _she got alcohol poisoning? No one forced her to drink! I damn sure didn't tell her to overdo it her first time."

"_First time?_" Tara pointed to her ear. "Do you even hear yourself? We were in Junior High not Junior _college_. There should have never been booze at your party to begin with!"

"_You _were the one doing shots with her!"

"That's not the point!"

"THEN WHAT IS?!" Jax scrubbed his hand across his face. "This shit we're talking about here…its _ancient history_. So the Hale's decided to ship the family scandal off to boarding school or some shit. That's not my problem. And it's not SAMCRO's problem either."

"I told the _truth,_" Tara croaked. "When the cops asked what happened I told them where we were, who was there and how it happened. I didn't lie."

"Good for you." Jax gave her a thumbs up. "So today's not the _first_ time you've been a snitch. What's your point?"

"My dad made me recant my statement," Tara barked. "He made me change my story when Chief Unser stopped by our house to _follow up._"

Jax shrugged his shoulders. "No one _forced _you to do anything—"

"—he did _that _night," Tara declared. "He made me recant my statement _because your father _threatened_ me_."

Jax's nostrils flared. Speaking through his teeth, he bit back, "You are so full of shit."

Then he jumped down from table.

"What's the matter, Jax?" Tara shouted at his back. "You surprised my _drunk daddy _actually cared enough to protect me from _yours_?"

Jax whipped around. "_Bitch_, you are _so _lucky I don't believe in hitting with women."

"It wasn't even about _you_, Jackson," Tara argued.

She stepped down from the table. "What did he care if you got a couple months in Juvenile Detention? A criminal record is practically a badge of honor for you SAMCRO _boys_…but G_od forbid _the Matriarch be held accountable for her fuck ups"

"You're _really_ playing with fire, Tara."

"_Gemma_ left a house full of minors unattended with an open liquor cabinet. And David's sister almost died because of it," Tara said. "I get it _now_ but back then I wasn't think about getting anyone in trouble. Officer Hobart asked me what happened and I told him the truth. And then _your family _threatened me. I'm not surprised at all the Hale's sent Sarah away from here. You're lucky they didn't press charges anyway—witness statement or not."

"Luck ain't got shit to do with it, Darlin'."

"_Right_. They let your mother slide out of the goodness in their heart."

"Let's be clear about two things." Jax held one finger up in front of her. "_ONE_, I have no idea if what you're telling me is bullshit or not but it_ doesn't _matter_. Anything_ my Old Man did was to protect his family. Ain't no shame or blame in that."

Tara eye's widened. "How could you say—"

Jax held his hand up. "_TWO. _You need to knock the Hale's off that fuckin pedestal you prop them up on. Because I don't have to be _patched in_ to know that _Judge Hale_ isn't half the innocent man you think he is. _SAMCRO_ might be outlaw. But at least they own the shit they do. My father doesn't hide behind a law degree and a three-piece suit. You're just as delusional as _Davey boy_ if you don't think his father has just as much dirt on the _gavel_ in _his _hand."

"So _what_? Hale being wrong means no one else has to do the right thing?"

Jax shook his head. "Are you kidding me? This is _why_? You cut me out of your life over something I had nothing to do with? Did I shun _you_ when your father got trashed and almost ran me down when I was riding my bike to Opie's?" Tara eyes darted to some place over his shoulder. "_Jesus Christ_, Tara." Jax raked a hand through his hair. "This is some real sins of the father _bullshit_. I know you're Irish but—."

"This isn't about religion!" Tara shrieked.

There was a brief moment when neither one of them said a word.

"_You're right._"

Tara met his eyes when she heard the defeat in his voice. "This is about you needing a reason to hate me." Jax swung his arms up at his sides, his palms faced upward. Shrugging his shoulders, Jax began walking backwards. "_Have at it, Babe_. I'm _done_ trying to fix whatever this is—whatever this _was. _Feel free to hate me _all _you want."

_Maybe one day I'll hate you just as much._

_Maybe._

Jax's phone rang as he walked through the empty hallway. He flipped the cell phone open, tucking it between his shoulder and ear as he dug in his pockets for his lighter. "Yeah," he answered, pulling the loose cigarette from behind his other ear. "What's up Ope?"

_"Detention let out yet?"_

"Wit' wasn't here," Jax said, blowing smoke through his nose. "I'm headed out now but _listen_ Ope….….."

_"I hear you, bro."_

Jax pushed the school's side exit door open. "Do you remember what happened with Sarah Hale?"

When Opie spoke, Jax could hear the amusement in his voice. _"_Funny_. I was just about to ask you how detention with Tara went."_

Jax nostrils were doing that flaring thing again. "I saw her slipping out of your window this morning. That's what _I _find funny."

_"Shit."_

"Is Donna good with that?"

_"Tara or Hale's sister. Which _truth_ you want first?"_

_The one that doesn't involve my father threatening the first girl I ever wanted around for more than what was under her skirt, _Jax thought.

To his best friend he said, "Aren't they the _same_ thing?"

"Yuuuup."

* * *

Jax was pouring his second glass when he heard his father's Harley pull into the driveway. The butt of the cigarette in his hand was a glowing cherry in the darkness of the kitchen.

Gemma wasn't home when he got in—probably off at Monroe Market looking for a cashier to harass.

John Teller's keys pinged against the ceramic bowl on the end table by the front door. Without even turning to face him, he knew the _clunk _against the surface was the gun his father always kept concealed inside his Kutte.

The house was quiet so they didn't have to speak loudly for their voices to carry.

"I thought you guys weren't due back until the weekend," Jax commented.

His eyes were on the glass swirling in his hand as his father's footsteps approached.

The liquor bottle disappeared from Jax's line of vision as JT picked up from the table. "Is that why you're about two thirds into my whiskey?"

Jax shrugged. "That's just the Irish in me, I guess."

When JT pulled the cigarette from his mouth Jax finally looked up at him.

Even in the dark he looked the same way he did when he left—miserable. And this was one night when his misery had company.

"What are you doing?" Jax asked as he stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray.

"You're too young to be chain smoking and getting drunk every night."

Jax wasn't sure if it was the hazing effect of the liquor in his system or if it'd really never happened before. But Jax couldn't think of a time when he had _ever _looked at his father the way he looked up at him now.

With contempt—with disgust. "Are you kidding me? You ignore me for weeks and the first conversation we have is a lecture on what I shouldn't be doing? How about we talk about what you _should _be doing? Being there for your family instead of moping around like a fuckin mummy."

Old JT would have snatched him up by his neck for talking to him like that. The new version sat in the chair across the table from him.

"Listen, Son—"

Jax's bitter laugh seemed to echo.

"_Son?_" Jax half-slurred. "I was under the impression that you forgot you still had one."

"I know you're angry with me," JT said. "And you have every right to be. I haven't much of a father since…"

Jax knocked back what was left in the glass in front of him, slamming the glass hard against the Mahogany oak.

"You're the one that poured me my first shot," Jax said. "you remember that? You and ma laughed for ten minutes when I spit it up all over the floor." Jax narrowed his eyes, cocking his head like he was trying to remember. "_How old was I then_?"

JT sighed. "I'm just trying to look out for you, Jackson. Don't want you to end up like—"

"—l_ooking out for me like you looked out for Ma' when you threatened Tara?_"

He hadn't meant to say it. He swore to himself that his conversation with Opie hours earlier was the last time he'd speak of it.

JT actually looked guilty—and all it did was piss his son off even more.

"She wasn't looking to get anyone in trouble. She was scared and her first reaction was to tell the truth like any other person would do—anybody that wasn't _raised_ not to talk to the cops."

"Whatever you're thinking. Whatever you think you know—"

"I know the Hale's were pushing for reckless endangerment and whatever other charge they could make stick. I know _that_."

"Did you want your mother to go to jail?"

Jax slammed his fist on the table. "What I _wanted _was the truth. She was _my _friend. I could have convinced her to change her story. If you told me what happened I _would_ have convinced her. You didn't have to threaten her. All you did was prove her father was right about all the shit he's always telling her about you...telling her about _us._"

"Jackson—,"

"Tell me something, Dad. Who'd you use to send the message? I know it wasn't _Piney_. Clay then? Kozick? Who'd you send to scare the piss out of _thirteen year old girl_?"

"She seems like more than a _friend_ the way you're acting, Son."

Jax steeled his eyes on his father and gave him a long.

Slow.

Clap.

A round of applause.

"Oh this is _perfect_," Jax jeered. "You disappear across the country somewhere for _months. _Then you come back home and now you're a shrink. Telling me to _Just Say No! _ Isn't enough. Now you're analyzing my feelings, too. _Fuck you."_

Even if Jax _was_ sober he'd have no time to react.

JT shot up from his seat—and seconds later Jax and _his _chair was tumbling backwards.

"_You watch your mouth when you're talking to me_!"

The living room lights flicked on just as Jax's ass grazed the kitchen tile.

Neither father nor son had realized the matriarch had come in two minutes before.

"What the hell are you doing, John?"

Jax looked up at his father—there was that same guilty, miserable, _pathetic _look again.

Jax couldn't even be mad anymore.

It was high time he took a page out of his father's book—he was _done_.

Just _done._

The click-clack of Gemma's heels was the only sound in the room as she hurried over to where her son sat on the floor.

"You okay, baby?"

Gemma reached to help him up—Jax shoved her hand away.

He stood up by himself, on wobbly legs, using the same arm he pushed her away with to wipe the blood gushing from his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie.

"I'm sorry, Son."

Jax waved him off. "You're _so _sorry it's not even funny."

Gemma placed a hand on her son's shoulder as he walked past. "Jax—"

Jax paused, looking back at her. "Did _you_ know what he did?"

Jax watched as his mother's mouth opened with no sound coming out.

Shaking his head, Jax managed a hallowed chuckle.

"Who the hell am I kidding?" he said. "_You probably put him up to it._"

Then he swaggered off to his room, snatching the bottle his dad had taken from him.

* * *

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	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Like most of you I** HATED **the season six finale of SOA. But there is one moment that I found perfect even if it was bittersweet. It was the scene in the park when Tara tried to place all the blame on Jax and he _**softly** _but _**firmly** _set her straight about being held accountable for her **own** choices. She **chose** to stay. She chose him over and over again. She had the right to be angry that she went through hell but it wasn't all because of Jax's choices or "the life".

**That scene was one of my favorites of the season.**

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

Tara had been staring at the clock on the kitchen wall.

_11:35 P.M._

That was when the first object went flying.

The shot glass shattered against the tiled kitchen wall, barely missing her face. That was when Tara knew it was officially time to make like Rapunzel and climb the hell out of Knowles Tower before her old man caught a case for killing his daughter in a fit of rage—or the other way around.

It was better to play it safe. It wasn't like _she _had intoxication to use an excuse.

After the blow up with Jax, Tara was way too tired to nurse her pride. So she didn't even hesitate to slip out of dining room window and walk over to the Winston's.

Standing below Opie's bedroom, Tara reached up, knocking on the window. It slid open seconds later, but it wasn't _Opie's _head popping out of it.

"Oh, good," Donna said. "It's _about time_ you showed up!"

Tara stood, shell-shocked as Donna peered down at her expectantly.

"Well," she said. "What are you waiting for?" Donna stepped back to where Tara couldn't see her. "Get your stubborn butt in here!"

A familiar chuckle had Tara white-knuckling the frame of the window when she's reached for it. "Your pushy ass girlfriend makes my _mom_ look passive."

"Shut the hell up, _Jax._"

"_Where'd she go_?"

There was no passing GO.

No collecting 200.

Tara _took the hell off_—she could have made the track team the way she hightailed it out of the space between the two houses.

Tara sprinted down the street. There was no way she could go back home tonight. And she damn sure wasn't ready for whatever _come to Jesus_ moment that meddling munchkin Donna had planned.

But she had nowhere else to go.

So she ran—she didn't stop for blocks.

For miles.

And when her lungs finally screamed in protest she keeled over, her hands gripping her knees, gulping for air. When she looked up she took in her surroundings. No longer a blur of shapes and colors, she could make out exactly where she was. She was only two blocks away from the Hale's.

Tara reached inside the deep pockets of the basketball shorts swimming around her waist. She disregarded the three missed calls from Mr. _I tell my girlfriend everything._ She scrolled down her contact list. It didn't take long before she was hitting send on the highlighted number.

It only rang three times before he answered.

"Tara?"

_No, it's the fuckin Easter Bunny. _"Hey, babe."

"You realize what time it is?"

Even though he couldn't see her Tara's hand flew to her hip anyway. "Are you kidding me right now? How about you start with _how was your day?_"

David sighed in her ear. "_I'm Sorry_, baby. Practice ran long today. I'm exhausted."

Tara stopped just as she reached the corner. "You had practice today?"

"From three to five-thirty, why?"

"You knew I had detention," Tara said. "You didn't think to offer me a ride home?"

_I would have rather listen to you wax poetic about football then walk four blocks with nothing to think about but how shitty my day was._

"_Jake_ picked me up."

And there it was.

"Oh."

"Listen, Tara—,"

"—never mind, I get it. _I get it. _That's not what I called for. Listen, I'm about a block away from your place. Can you unlock your window for me?"

David laughed. "You grow wings and didn't tell me? I'm two stories up and mom had that tree cut down months ago—what's going on?"

_My dad thinks I'm my mother who _apparently _spends lots of time being a biker whore in between checking my homework and cutting the crust off my sandwiches._

"I got into an argument with my dad," Tara lied.

"What happened?"

_Jesus H. Christ. _"Are you gonna let me sleep over or not?"

Silence.

He hesitated just a moment too long.

_To hell with _this_ shit. He can find another girlfriend to play Casper the friendly fuckin ghost._

"You know what? Don't worry about it, David. I don't even know why I asked."

"Tara—"

"_What?_" Tara snapped. She was already headed back home. She didn't have any more run in her so she strolled through the dimly lit streets like she was in that park her and Jax used to go to.

_Ugh. _

"I'm sorry."

"You're always sorry, David. And that's a problem."

"I'm gonna tell them."

"_When?_ When are we gonna stop hiding? Enough is enough already."

David spoke so low, she almost missed it. "_Sarah's coming home."_

* * *

Sarah Hale was coming home.

Sarah, the first friend Tara made in elementary school. The girl who loved to read Roald Dahl just as much as she did. _Matilda _was their favorite.

She was coming back.

Sarah—the girl who used to beg her mother to adopt Tara like Miss Honey did and take her away from her mean, drunk father _"Mr. Wormwood". _ The girl who loved to force Tara out of her shell. The girl who loved to be the best at everything, just like her best friend.

The girl who should have never challenged her best friend—the _drunk's kid_—to a round of shots—especially when they were both trying to impress a certain blue-eyed friend of theirs.

She'd be here this weekend. That was all she could think about the whole way home.

When she finally _did _make it home, the last thing she expected to see was Opie sitting on her front steps.

Tara was too tired to kill him now. She'd have to do it tomorrow.

Walking past him as if he wasn't there she turned the knob on her front door.

It was locked.

She reached inside her shorts—and came up empty-handed.

Behind her back, she heard Opie chuckle. "You _always _forget to bring your house keys when you slip out."

Tara walked down the steps without saying a word. She was _so _not in the mood.

"How's Hale?"

Tara froze. "What are you talking about?"

She felt Opie rise up from the steps behind her. "Let me try again. How was your first sleepover at your _secret boyfriend's _house?"

Tara turned to glare at him.

"Or can I even call it that? I guess his folks must have been home. Had to sneak you out the back door before his father saw you."

Tara looked down at the ground. "How long have you known?"

Opie smirked. "I've known since it started." He shook his head at her. "At first I couldn't believe you were letting him treat you like shit but—"

"—you don't know _shit_ about how he treats me—"

"—what I _know _is he's too much of a pussy to tell his parents about you and you're letting him slide because you feel guilty."

"I don't have time for this," Tara hissed. She walked down the path between their houses. She was reaching up to open the window to her dining room.

She had one foot through the window when Opie said, "Jax _knows._"

Tara whipped around so fast she lost her balance. Opie caught her just in time. She barely caught her balance before she was shoving him away.

"You have to be fuckin kidding me!"

Opie winced. "Sure, Tara. Wake the neighborhood up. They won't mind."

"You are _unbelievable! _Blabbing to your girlfriend wasn't enough? You had to gossip with your BFF, too?"

"He saw you hop out of my window this morning. What was I supposed to do, lie?."

Tara's smile was nasty. "Why not? You lied to _me_ when you said you'd keep your mouth shut!"

"How about we cut the bullshit, Tara?" Opie yelled. "Let's get to real reason you're so pissed off."

It was the first time she'd ever seen him lose his temper. It gave her pause.

But it didn't last long.

"I'm angry because you told—"

"Not about _me. _I'm talking about Jax."

Tara cocked a stubborn eyebrow. "First we're talking about David and now it's about Jax. Pick a topic and stick with it."

"How about you pick a _side _and stick with it?"

"What the hell are you talking about, Opie?"

Opie shook his head. "Wow," he said. "Denial is a scary thing. You better hope your boyfriend doesn't find out about your alone time with _Jackson Teller_."

"Opie what the hell—"

"—but _then again_ that'll probably be good for you. I bet you Hale will grow some balls when he realizes you might choose Jax over him…_again._"

Tara threw her hands up. "I'm too tired for riddles. Goodnight!"

Opie grabbed her arm as Tara moved to turn away again.

"_You lied to protect him_," he said.

Tara's eyes narrowed to slits. "I _don't know _what—"

"That shit that happened with Sarah," Opie explained. "You lied to Unser to protect Jax."

Tara rolled her eyes. Waving him off she said, "Jax was never in trouble."

"His mother was."

"I can't stand that bitch—"

"—and she can't stand your ass _either. _Gemma never trusted you and she _hated_ your mother," Opie admitted. "We all knew it. Gemma never tried to hide it."

"Exactly."

Opie shook his head. "I never said you did it for her. You changed your story, you went along with what everyone else said for Jax."

"I did it because his father threatened me!"

"_Bullshit_," Opie snapped. "Do you really expect me to believe that? This is _me _you're talking to. Did you honestly think Piney would let anything happened to you? Did you _really_ believe JT would give orders to hurt a thirteen year old girl?"

Tara's eyes were on the ground again. "John Teller said—"

"_You don't know what the hell he said!_" Tara's eyes snapped up to look at him. "You don't know _who _said it either. All you know is what your father _told you._ And we both know what an honest person that asshole is."

"Why now?" Tara asked quietly. "Any other time you stay out of it. Is this because your girlfriend can't mind her damn business?"

"Don't put this shit on Donna," Opie barked. "This about _you_ not letting shit go. You need to live with the decision _you _made. You didn't lie to cops because you were afraid for your life. You did it for _Jax_ and you don't want to admit that so you walk around angry at him for your choice. You chose _him._ And you lost the Hale's because of it."

"They were like family to me when—"

"—when your mother died," Opie interrupted. Then his tone softened. "Look, Tara. _I_ know it, the Oswald's know it, and anyone paying half attention knows it. Your old man ain't been right since your mother passed. Piney checked out for a while, too. So Sarah—_the Hale's…_they were it for you. Gemma was never gonna welcome you into her home with open arms. You knew what you'd be giving up if you crossed them. _And you chose Jax anyway._"

Tara had no words. So she was praising the lord when Opie's phone rang.

But then he dipped his hand inside the pocket of his jeans and the phone fell silent.

"If you don't want to be friends with him that's fine. But you really need to stop torturing him for _your _decision."

Opie's phone rang again. This time he pulled it out and checked the caller I.D. Looking back up at her he said, "I gotta go. Piney's gone for the rest of the week so you can leave through the front door. Don't forget to lock my window back."

Then he walked off, leaving Tara alone outside her dining room window.

_Everything he said makes sense, _Tara thought as she heard the door to the Winston's pickup truck slam shut.

Tara didn't want to think about what kind of person that made her.

* * *

School the next day was a nightmare.

Tara was running on barely two hours of sleep after a random marathon run around town, a confrontation from her annoyingly-right next door neighbor, and spending hours sitting up in his bed thinking about just how annoyingly-right he was.

When she passed Mr. Whitman in the hallway during fifth period, and he said, "See you at five, Ms. Knowles," part of her wanted to break down in tears and beg him to postpone detention until next week. She had homework to finish, an insufferable father to tend to—_and_ she was scheduled to work until closing time tonight.

When she finally walked through the doors of the cafeteria later on that afternoon she was dead on her feet and daydreaming about her pillow. When she climbed up on top of the lunch table, instead of reading a book she laid across the table. Tara was out like a light in two minutes flat.

And she slept a good hour before she opened her eyes to see a familiar pair of baby-blue's staring back at her.

* * *

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	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Detention, day **2**. Let's see if this one is a little better...

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

Tara's eyes flew open.

And Jax was momentarily caught up in the effect of them. Trapped in her emerald gaze, it took him a minute to realize she was staring at him like he had two heads.

_I probably look like a psycho watching her sleep._

"So I was thinking," Jax started.

Tara moved to sit up. Propping her head in her hand leaning on her elbow for support.

She cocked an eyebrow. "You were thinking…?"

_I forgot _what _I was thinking now._

"I think you should try out for the track team," Jax said.

When in doubt,_ just tease._

"huh?"

"Donna could be your trainer," he continued. "The coach can send her out on the field to ask you questions when he wants you to pick up speed."

"Ha-ha. Hilarious, Teller."

"I'm just saying…the way you took off last night I'd have thought your ass was on fire."

Tara's laughter was a welcome sound. It warmed him up in more ways than one. When was the last time she'd laughed around him? Let alone, at something he _said._

"Is this your version of me hating you all I want to?"

Jax's smile faltered. "I thought you said you didn't hate me."

"I—"

"—do you?" Jax cut her off. "_Do_ you hate me?"

"No." Jax didn't realize he was holding his breath until she answered.

And just like that, the Lady Killer smile resurfaced. "Then we'll just leave the rest alone. _Cool_?"

"Cool."

The following silence wasn't awkward or tense—it was civil, peaceful.

Jax sat on the bench of the table, with his legs spread out underneath. He watched as Tara sat up, sliding against her back against the wall.

He knew it wasn't because she wanted to move away from him this time.

She pulled a book from her bag—Hamlet again—and opened it on her knee like she had the day before. But this time it didn't irk him—it didn't make him feel like the sole purpose of her reading it was to tune him out.

Tara wasn't ignoring him—she was just being her nerdy self.

And that reminded him of something.

"Hey." Jax tapped the one foot she had extended in front of him and she looked up. Her expression was one of guarded curiosity—and he'd take that over the scowl any day.

"You remember when you called Jacob Hale out for mispronouncing the word _voluptuous?" _

The giggle was back, her smile reached all the way up to her Olive eyes—and it felt like fireworks were going off in his stomach, an unfamiliar fluttering in his chest that he chose to ignore instead of analyze.

"Yeah I remember," Tara said. "That boy didn't have game to save his life. But at least it was a step up from singing _baby got back _to every girl that walked past us in the park."

Jax chuckled. "You were a know-it-all even then."

Tara rolled her eyes. "And you were already channeling your inner-outlaw. You decked him in the face!"

"He called you an Orphan! I had to teach him some manners." Jax cleared his throat before adding, more quietly, "And if I remember it correct I didn't punch him…_I kicked him in his balls._"

Tara shook her head, laughing. "If I were you I'd stick with _my _recollection. Kicking guys in the nuts is a _chick _move."

"That idiot's head is made of bricks." Jax held his hands out in front of him. "I couldn't risk damaging these babies. What if I want to be a surgeon when I grow up?"

"That would require you to take _your own _math test," Tara scolded good-naturedly.

"Well in _that _case… maybe I just wanted my hands to stay flawless like the rest of me."

Tara scoffed. "Or you needed to save the strength in them so that _maybe_ one day you could pull your own head out of your ass."

Jax gasped, slapping a hand against his chest. "_That _one hurt. Is this the thanks I get for being a gentleman?"

Tara jutted her chin up at him, narrowing her eyes. "How long were you watching me sleep, _Bundy_?"

Jax smiled at her. "I saw you when you first walked in. You were knocked out before I could make it down the hallway. You know…you look like an _angel_ when you sleep." Jax waited for her smile to spread before he pointed to the top of her head adding, "Now if _only_ you could get rid of the horns."

Tara kicked a leg out at it him. He swerved and it narrowly missed his shoulder.

"Nice try, Satan," Jax teased. "I'm way too much of a ninja for you."

"Yeah?" She rose up on the leg bent up towards her chest and used the same foot to kick at him again—this time her foot grazed his shoulder.

Jax grabbed by her calf and yanked her back down on table. When her other leg flew out, he grabbed her by both of her ankles and pulled. Jax underestimated how fast she was moving—and he stopped pulling a few seconds too late.

Even when he let her legs go she went crashing into his chest. He flipped backwards, managing to break his fall just enough that he didn't snap his legs, which were still curved underneath the table. Leaning backwards like the bridges girls liked to do to show off in gym class, Jax guided his way back up.

Tara was laughing her ass off and Jax laughed right along with her.

But then she stopped when he finally managed to sit upright.

He stopped laughing when he realized why she'd gone quiet all of a sudden.

It wasn't intentional—he hadn't meant to grab her thighs for support. They were just there, just like they _still_ were—spread wide, her legs dangling on either side of his waist.

Jax looked up at her, blue eyes searching…for something.

_What are you thinking right now?_

Tara slowly placed her hand on top of one of his. Her hands burned on top of his, the lightest sheen of sweat dampening her palm. And all Jax could think about was how wet she could be elsewhere. Almost reflexively, his other hand slid a little further up her thigh.

And when she didn't move to stop him he kept going until his fingers were caressing the spot right below the leg of her dark, terry shorts. Slowly, as if he might spook her, Jax pulled his legs from under the table. He ignored the discomfort of the whitewashed wooden bench underneath his knees as he kneeled in between her thighs. She pushed further off the table, her legs curling around his waist. Jax was overwhelmed. His eyes moved from her lips to her neck, to the cleavage peeking out of the V-neck she loved to wear. He couldn't decide where he wanted his mouth first. Tara was going to make the decision for him when she reached her hand out, tangling her fingers in his hair. She didn't have to pull him close, he was already moving in.

His lips were inches away from hers when she pressed her palm against his chest. Looking in her eyes, the hesitation he saw wasn't from _fear_.

It was something else.

Jax knew that look. He'd seen it on the faces of plenty of girls—and it was always right before they tossed the hesitation out the window and cheated on their boyfriends with him.

_Opie I swear to god, if you lied about—no. _

_He wouldn't do that. _

Jax felt like an asshole for even considering it. But then _who_ was that hesitation for? And why hadn't she pulled away yet?

Jackson Telller _never_ closed the gap.

He never had to.

They _always_ made the decision on their own.

But right now, for the first time he was in agony waiting—waiting for Tara to make up her mind. Trying to figure out who she could possibly be dating. How long it'd been going on and he'd not noticed?

He felt as miserable as his father looked when he left for _Church_ that morning.

"_Jax?_" he heard Wendy say behind him.

And the misery would have to simmer a little longer.

Tara jumped back so fast she almost kicked him in the face. He nearly fell backwards on his ass, balancing himself—again. This time he had to rely on the table for support instead of the softness of Tara's thighs.

Wendy wolf-whistled and Tara's face reddened like a tomato.

"Damn," Wendy said. "If this is what detention is all about sign me up."

"You're already signed up, stupid," said a voice. Jax reluctantly turned around. The first thing he noticed was the amusement in Wendy's expression. She wasn't jealous—she was looking rather smug, wriggling her eyebrows at Tara. The skinny chick standing next to her, however, looked downright livid.

"Hi, Jax," the bleached-blonde hissed.

"Hi, _Ima._"

"Whose your new friend?" Ima asked, glaring at the part of Tara's face that was concealed behind the textbook hovering in front of her face.

Wendy giggled. "_New _friend? Ha! More like _old_ friend. These two are the best Soap Opera you'll ever watch."

_Shut the fuck up, Wendy. _ "Wendy," Jax said. "Could you give it a rest?"

"_Fine. _But can we make out then? That evil bitch O'keefe has me in here for an hour all the way through next Friday."

_Jesus fuckin Christ. Even when that Irish gash isn't punishing _me _she's _still _punishing me._

"Wendy—" Jax groaned, shutting his eyes against headache quickly brewing at his temples.

"_What?_ I'm kinda liking your idea of how to pass the time in here." Then she looked over at the brunette pretending to be engrossed in U.S History. "What do you say Tara?" Wendy teased."We can _take turns_. I'll even let you have the first half hour."

_THWACK. _

When Jax opened his eyes, he was half-hoping that it was Wendy's head connecting with the textbook that had made the sound. But unfortunately it was the table Tara slammed it down on before jumping up.

'Where are you going? We still have an hour to—,"

"I have to pee!" Tara snapped. "Is that enough information for you?!"

Wendy actually threw her head back and laughed like a hyena. It was like something out of a fuckin movie.

"You happy now?" Jax grumbled at her.

"_I _am," Ima cut in. 'What did Mother Superior do to end up in here anyway?"

Wendy smirked. "You really calling her a nun after what we just saw?"

Jax chose to ignore the blonde yanking his chain. "It was actually my fault she ended up in here," he admitted. "Well _sort of."_

_"_Guess Whitman did you a favor, huh, Jax?" Wendy said. "Gave you a chance to make up with your childhood sweetheart."

Jax knew Wendy wasn't _just _teasing. She was also watching him—studying his reaction. Probably taking notes for his mother. Wendy _loved _to suck up to Gemma. He didn't have a clue why but what he _did _know was that she wouldn't hesitate to go running her mouth off to her about Tara—and the _very last _thing he needed was his mother causing trouble for him in the name of _protecting her only son_.

He _just _got her back.

"Relax, Wendy." Jax gave her his cockiest grin. "It didn't mean anything. It _doesn't _mean anything. I was just proving a point."

Wendy's eyes narrowed, her mouth twitching at the corners. "And your point was…?"

"My point is _she's full of shit_. Always acting like she's so above it all. No one is immune to the Teller charm." Jax popped his collar and winked at her.

Wendy winked right back but she was looking over his shoulder.

"Had a nice bathroom break, Tara?"

Jax was shoved sideways before he could turn around to face her. A storm of golden brown hair and long legs blew past him.

_When we get past _this _my new nickname for you is going to be, Taz. Tasmanian fuckin Devil._

"Tara—"

"Don't even bother." She pulled the strap of her bag over her shoulder and stalked past him so fast he barely caught her arm.

"Wait a minute—"

"Why?" Her emerald eyes blazed. Jax lost his train of thought as his mind flashed to all things he could do to put out the fire—or make it burn hotter.

Tara tried to jerk her arm free. He gripped harder, reaching out he grabbed her other one spinning her around completely.

"Stop _running_," he implored. "Aren't you sick of it, yet?"

She didn't avoid his indigo-gaze like he expected her to. She met it head on with a challenge in her own eyes. "What the hell do you want from me, Jackson?"

Ehh-hemm.

Someone cleared their throat behind her.

When Jax looked up towards the source of the latest interruption his nostrils flared.

"_Tara_."

Tara jerked away from Jax, turning her back on him.

"_Whaat?_"

Jax felt like breakdancing when he heard the venom in her voice.

"Mr. Whitman said you… he said to tell you, you could leave now."

_Why the hell is he looking at her like that?_

The sound of chair legs screeching against the cafeteria floor sounded behind them as Wendy and Ima got up from the round table they'd been sitting at.

"Guess I get to make my hair appointment after all," Jax heard Ima say.

"Not _you. _Just Tara."

"Bullshit," Wendy joined in. "If she's free why can't we leave, too?"

"You have a part-time job to get to? No? Didn't think so."

There was a pregnant pause where no one said anything. Jax just watched. His eyes darting from Tara to the douche bag jock staring at her like he was confused about something—confused and _concerned._

"Tara," Jax and David said at the same time.

"_Ugh." _

Tara didn't bother looking back at Jax. But at least he could find some small comfort in the fact that she gave David Hale the same treatment he'd gotten earlier. She shoved past him, too, kicking the cafeteria door shut behind her.

"Hhmm…the plot _thickens._"

This time Jax didn't just _think_ it. He said it out loud.

"Shut the _fuck_ up_,_ Wendy." _You're like a dog with a bone._

* * *

**|REVIEW|**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Introducing an **(OC) **this chapter. Oh and FYI:I **love** Jax &amp; Tara together as much as you guys do (and they will be). But I loved SOA period so I'm trying to write a story that includes ALL the pivotal characters: a history that explains future dynamics…like Jax &amp; David Hale's disdain for one another. Also it might* end up slightly **(AU)**ish by the time the final chapter is uploaded.

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

If there was one the thing the past twenty-four hours had taught Tara, it was that anger triumphs fatigue—_every time. _

Handsome blonde teenage boys _also_ seemed to be the trick to counteracting _fatigue _but Tara was _so _not about to analyze how she'd gone from laughter and an almost-kiss to feeling like the walking dead in a span of minutes.

She'd rushed straight from the cafeteria to the first floor restroom to change for work. She'd thrown on her black slacks, her shoes and lazily pulled her hair back into a ponytail to keep from yanking all of it out the next time it whipped her in the face.

But no matter how quickly she'd gotten ready she didn't count on David still being on campus when she pushed through the double exit doors of the school.

_Hoped_ was more like it.

She'd _hoped_ he would have the decency to leave her in peace. She'd _hoped _he'd be smart enough to realize she was running on empty and the _last _thing she needed was another bullshit heart to heart where nothing got resolved.

And she'd seen the way he looked at her when he walked in the lunch room and saw Jax gripping her in his arms. That was why she also _hoped _her boyfriend would be smart enough to know that he was already skating on the thin ice… so the last thing _he_ needed to do was give _her _the third degree about _anything._

Even if it was Jackson—_make-girls-lose-all-common sense_—Teller.

Apparently hoping… was _hopeless_.

David was leaning against the passenger side of his brother's jeep when she stepped outside.

_Thank god_ for adrenaline—her temper had her _on a roll. _She was able to ignore the screaming protest in her legs from last night's sprint across town and rushed past him.

But of course he followed her.

"Tara! Hold on a second!"

"Not _now _David," Tara said without turning back.

Then that damn football captain caught up with her in seconds. He fell in step with her in no time. And when he saw that she had no intention of stopping, he slid in front of her and started walking backwards.

"Babe." _He did _not _just babe me. _"Let me give you a ride to work. Last night you hung up so fast we didn't get a chance to talk. How are things with your dad?"

"I'm fine _walking_."

Tara chose to ignore everything else he said. As far she was concerned if he _really_ cared he would have called her back. He would have carved some time out of his busy schedule being Varsity Football star and found her during her lunch period to _talk_.

"I know you are," David said, and part of Tara found it amusing how diplomatic he was being. She knew he could tell she was dead on her feet—and that wasn't really ideal for a stroll across the town. "But I can take you," David continued. Tara narrowed her eyes at him.

"Why?" she snapped, finally coming to a stop at the end of the school parking lot. "Because your brother's not around? Where _is_ Jacob anyway?"

David scratched at a spot above his ear. "Sarah finally got in last night. _That's _why I didn't get a chance to call you back. I wasn't even _in _school today. I just showed up for practice. Coach let me go early…and I remembered you had detention today."

_The prodigal daughter has returned. _

Tara recalled how Jacob Jr. used to refer to her best friend as the _Golden child._ Whatever Sarah wanted, she got—including a pseudo-foster sister when she'd begged her mom to include Tara in everything when they were younger.

Tara knew how much the Hale's loved their daughter—_especially her father_. She knew right away David was downplaying everything. His father probably had him _and_ Junior running around with bells tied to their necks the second she showed up.

As far as excuses go, David had a good one today.

But that didn't change one very important fact…._she was sick of being a ghost._

Tara folded her arms across her chest. "You didn't answer me." When David's eyes narrowed in confusion, she added, "Where's Jacob?"

David nodded his understanding. "He's officially been appointed her chauffer until dad gets her car next week."

_Sarah's_ really_ back._

Tara didn't know what to feel and she was too tired to figure it out.

One thing that _wasn't_ difficult to interpret? Just how much of a coward her boyfriend was.

"Jake's _out of sight. _So now you're free and clear to resume your role as the doting boyfriend who cares."

"Tara—"

Tara held her hand up.

"_You know what David_? I don't just _look _tired. I _am _tired. I barely got _any_ sleep last night." Tara pointed down the block. "Right now I'm on my way to work…which is where I'll be for the next _six_ hours instead of the _four_ hour limit a minor is _supposed_ to be working because my manager's a jealous bitch who thinks fifteen year olds have nothing better to do on a school night than stock shelves. And it's not like I'm in a position to _complain_ about it! The extra money will probably come in handy when my father's bar tab burns through his next paycheck."

David's frown deepened. "Tara—"

Tara gasped. "OH! I almost forgot. My old man's check clears _today. _And that's just fuckin awesome because _now_ I'll be swimming in bourbon and dodging all the dishes being thrown at me when I'm finished making sure all the cans and boxes of Cheerios are stacked in _even rows_!"

"I didn't know it was that bad," David admitted quietly.

Tara flashed him a brittle smile. "_How could you?_ You're not around enough to ask."

"I'm sorry."

Tara shoved hard against his chest—David barely caught his balance.

"_I swear to god_ if you apologize to me _one more time_ I'm-you know what? We're not doing this now. _I'm _not doing this…because…because right now _you_ are the kind of tired laying my head on a pillow for a few hours won't remedy. I'm _exhausted _with _you. _So, please, do me a favor and just leave me the hell alone."

Tara moved to walk around him but he gently placed his hands on her shoulders, stilling her where she stood.

"You're _pissed_, Tara." David pushed the flyaway hair that had escaped from her ponytail out of her face, ignoring the way she turned away from his touch instead of into it. "And if I didn't know how stubborn you are I'd walk away right now. I'm not ambushing you. This isn't me trying to trap you in a car with me. I _just _want to give you a ride to work. That's it. No questions. No excuses…and no more apologies. I won't even talk. I just want to be there for you."

_Because right now it's convenient._

Tara knew David wasn't a bad guy—not even remotely. He was a typical teenage boy. They rarely knew what they wanted half the time and when they finally got it they didn't know what to do with it.

Add that to a borderline-unhealthy need to meet his parent's approval and Tara knew she was fucked before she even accepted his invite to go to the movies with him months ago.

She was doomed _years_ ago really—from the moment she'd sat in front of Chief Unser and _lied_. When she'd met David's father's eyes that night in Unser's office.

The night she'd told the cops that _Sarah_ had flirted with some random older guy to get him to buy the booze for them the night she'd overdosed. That they'd bought the Tequila with money Tara had stolen from her father's wallet. _Gemma Teller was telling the truth_, she'd told him—there _was_ no alcohol at Jax's party.

Looking in David's eyes now she could see the sincerity there. He wasn't jerking her around for the hell of it. David never once made her feel like he was _embarrassed_ by her.

They had a single obstacle to overcome—his parents. And he was trying.

But, damn it, she needed him to try _harder. _

Especially since she couldn't shake the feeling that he was holding back for another reason—one that had nothing to do with meeting the Judge's approval.

There was something he wasn't telling her.

And she didn't have the time nor the energy to play psychic.

Another thing she didn't have the energy for?

Walking all the way to work.

"Tara—"

"FINE!" Tara turned on her heel, headed towards the blue jeep parked in front of Charming High's side exit.

Again he walked ahead of her and opened the passenger side door for her.

_Always the gentleman, _Tara thought wryly.

* * *

David kept his word—he didn't say anything to Tara the whole ride there.

But when he pulled into Monroe market's parking lot, instead of dropping her off in front of the door he slid into a parking spot and pulled the keys from the ignition.

"What are you doing?"

David pulled a folded up piece of paper from his jacket pocket. "_Grocery list_. Mom's planning a welcome home dinner for Sarah."

"Of _course_ she is," Tara responded, hopping down from inside the jeep.

David walked alongside her in silence, just as he'd promised—until they reached the front entrance of the store.

"Hey, Tara," David began. _Here it comes…. _"I've been thinking—"

"TARA!"

Both David and Tara looked up to see Opie and Donna walking towards them.

Tara wondered why Donna didn't just join the cheerleading squad. That girl always had way too much pep in her step. And the fifty pounds worth of grocery bags in each of Opie's hands made him look like quite the candidate as an offensive lineman for the football team.

"Jesus, Donna. You want her to take off again," Opie commented. He gave Tara a small smile, even managing a stiff nod in David's direction.

Donna waved him off looking at Tara. "You know when Jax said you're always running I didn't think he meant that _literally_. Where the hell did you go? One minute you were there, the next _poof!_"

Tara saw the exact moment David's eyes darkened. "You were with Jax?"

Donna scoffed. "_Yeah right._ She took off before I could even get them two in the same room again. I hope today's detention went better than yesterday's. You two really need to—"

David held a hand up. And Donna immediately looked up at Opie. "_Who the hell is he? _And why does he think its okay to tell _me_ to shut up?_"_

"He didn't tell you to shut up—"

"I know what a raised hand means, Opie. I do it to _you _all the time. It means _shut up._"

Tara giggled.

Donna just might be someone she needed around—if for nothing else than a good laugh.

Tara's laughter died on her lips when she saw David's face.

"You were with Jackson yesterday?"

Tara shrugged. "We both had detention."

"And you didn't think to mention that? Is that the _real _reason you were upset when you called me last night? Did something happen with you two?"

_No._

_YES._

_I wi—NO._

_Wait, when the hell did _I _become the one in trouble?_

"Aren't you supposed to be shopping for your mother?"

David's eyes narrowed. "Aren't you supposed to be headed into work?"

Tara held out her wrist, tapping a finger to the watch wrapped around it. "I still got twenty minutes before my shift starts."

"_Seriously, _dude," Donna interrupted. "Who the hell _are _you?"

David looked over at Tara. She cocked an eyebrow at him as if to say, _go ahead. _

_Give them the _old friend_ speech you gave Elliot when he ran into us at that diner in Lodi._

"Hey, _Tara_."

When Tara looked over at Opie, the mischievous expression on his face made her ears go pink. "_Jax_ said when I saw you to tell you _he could get over the _horns _if you'd stop being a _track star…whatever the hell _that _means."

Tara fought the urge to smile—and _lost. _"I'll keep that in mind."

_Troublemaker. _

And troublemaker, he was. David looked like he wanted punch something—or someone. Tara was ready to diffuse the ticking time bomb before things got ugly…but then his face changed. All the anger melted away.

David turned his body completely to face her. He wrapped his arm around her waist, his hand sliding to the nape of her neck. Leaning down he pressed his lips to hers. Softly, at first. But then the kiss grew urgent as he coaxed her mouth open, tangling his tongue with hers.

They were in a parking lot.

In public.

Broad afternoon daylight—where any number of town gossips could be lurking to catch the latest drama. People who would find it _very interesting_ that the Judge's son was making out with the _rumored_ reason his daughter disappeared from Charming years ago.

In a distant part of her mind, she heard Donna gasp. But she was too focused on the arm snaked so tightly around her waist it was almost constricting. And the hand gently tilting her head back.

He was kissing her like he wanted her to forget her own name. He was kissing her like she _wanted _to be kissed—without the darkness of secrecy. Without _conditions. _Without leaving _any _doubt as to how he felt about her.

David was making his feelings known for _any_ and _every _one to see. And that was _exactly _what she wanted all along.

So why the hell was she slowly, but surely getting _angry?_

Tara pulled away just as Opie cleared his throat for the third time—_okay_, maybe fourth.

"I gotta go get this stuff for my mom," David said. He brushed his hand lightly across her cheek. "I'll call you later, baby."

Once.

Twice.

He gave her a soft peck on the lips.

Then he looked over at Opie. "Jake's planning something for Sarah soon…to celebrate her coming home. You and your girl here are welcome to come. You can even bring _Jax."_

Opie's eyebrows shot north. "Yeah, _okay._"

And _that _was when Tara realized why she was pissed.

He didn't do any of that for _her._ He was sending a message via a _certain someone's_ best friend.

Lucky for him he was already too far away for Tara to shove him.

Tara _lived _for shoving people—especially narcissistic jackasses with penises.

As it turned out, she now had _two _of them to put up with.

"Oh!" Donna exclaimed suddenly. "So _that's _who he is! _David _the _secret boyfriend!"_

Tara scowled. She glared up at Opie, who was already rolling his eyes to the sky as if he was thinking _why me? _

"Is there _anything_ you _don't_ tell your girlfriend?" Tara snapped.

"Nope."

Donna's smile couldn't have been smugger. She shook her head at Tara. "_Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. _A secret boyfriend with a spoiled princess for a younger sister _and _a biker prince with more pride than he can fit inside his big ass head...Did you ever consider falling for someone _less _complicated?"

_Grrrrrrrr_. "How many times do I have to say it? I _do not _like Jackson! We're—"

"—friends?" Donna interjected. "_Right. _Yesterday you hated him and now your friends. And tomor—_wait a minute_. Did you just _growl _at me?"

Opie was laughing so hard, he dropped two of the assortment of bags in his hand.

"I'm walking away now," Tara said.

And she did just that.

Odds were high that the half-giant teenage boy laughing behind her was going to make her commit felony murder—when she hotwired someone's car in the parking lot just to run his ass over with it.

"Stop by Opie's after work if you're not too tired!" Donna yelled at her retreating back. "I'm making him dinner tonight!"

_One last supper before I kill him?_

"Good!" Tara tossed over her shoulder without looking back. "Maybe if his mouth is stuffed he won't have time to be blabbing about shit that doesn't concern him…_or _you!"

"Did she just—"

Donna's question was cut off as the glass double doors slide shut behind her. And Tara was happier for it. She would stock shelves for twelve hours straight if it meant avoiding her next door neighbor's pushy girlfriend.

Donna Lewis.

How could anybody call _Tara_ a know-it-all with that chick adding her two cents into every damn thing?

And she _did not _like Jax.

She didn't _want _to like him.

And Tara Knowles _never_ did what she didn't want to do.

Nope.


	8. Chapter 8

Gemma Teller had been wiping down the same section of the countertop for the past ten minutes. Jax was sitting all the way on the other end of the bar. She watched him through the corner of her eye. She was trying to get a read on him—figure out if he was still angry about last night.

But Jackson was too much like his father—_you could never see what they didn't want to show you._

Wendy was turning out to be a lot more useful than Gemma had originally thought. The girl had her issues, but she was a quick study on how things worked in the Outlaw world of _SAMCRO._ Gemma Teller may not have been a patched member of the SONS. But her position as Old Lady to Redwood Original's President was a position of power. The matriarch was due a certain level of respect.

Whatever her faults, Wendy Case got the picture—while none of Jax's other playthings did.

_Especially _Tara Knowles.

And even worst still, Tara was never even a plaything.

They were _friends._

That girl had been a thorn in Gemma's side ever since she gave Jackson the chicken pox when they were kids. She was always around, always had her son's ear—and that was a big problem.

And now they were reconnecting.

She had to find a way to put a stop to it before Typhoid Tara poisoned her son to the only family he'd _ever_ feel at home with.

Gemma knew exactly what Tara thought of SAMCRO—that's why little miss Tara had to _go._

* * *

Jackson Teller thought his mother was _annoying _just like every other teenage boy.

She was pushy, overbearing, hypocritical—_always_ meddling.

I did it because _I love you_.

I lied to you _for your own good. _

If I let you do that in the end _it would break your heart._

_Mothers_.

They had a reason for every action they took—for every role they played in their sons lives.

Gemma Teller justified _everything _she did—_good_ or _bad_—by saying it was done out of love.

And like most teenage boys, Jackson came to accept it. He loved his mother wholeheartedly—flaws and all.

But that didn't mean he couldn't hate her every once in a while.

Like now, while she stood there pretending to clean…with the most calculating look on her face.

Jackson wondered why she even bothered keeping up the pretense. The countertop was spotless twenty minutes ago. The Club had made their newest prospect (read: bitch boy) Kyle Hobart clean the entire clubhouse top to bottom.

She wasn't there to clean. She was there because she had something she wanted to say to him. And if her hesitation was any indication it was a conversation she _knew_ he wanted no part of.

That was why Judge Jacob Hale was a welcome distraction. Even if Jax knew he'd probably be tempted to bash his face in the second he walked through the clubhouse doors.

"Hey, Ma," Jax said, nodding his head towards the open bar doors. "Look who decided to grace us with his presence."

"I wonder what this asshole wants," Gemma mumbled as Jacob Hale walked through the doors.

"_His honor Judge Jacob Hale presiding_," Jax mocked from the stool where he sat. "You lost old man?"

Judge Hale looked at Gemma as if he need to confirm what he was seeing.

Jax took another swig of the beer in his hand. Then—just for the Judges benefit—he walked around the bar, grabbed a shot glass and a bottle of whiskey from the top shelf.

Knocking the first shot back, he poured another. He let out an over the top _Ahhh _of satisfaction as the dark liquid slid down his throat.

The judge straightened his freshly starched tie. "I see you're parenting skills haven't changed much, Gemma…you still think minors and alcohol go together."

_If this asshole thinks he can come in here and harass my mother he's out of his goddamn mind._

"Hey _shithead!_" Jax said, snapping his fingers. "I have _one _father. He wears a Kutte and rides a Harley. _He's_ the only one allowed to hold a gavel _in here_. So if you know what _I _know you'll save your judgments for the courthouse."

"You listen to me you little _delinquent_—,"

"What do you want Jacob?" Gemma intervened.

Jax wasn't about to listen to _shit_. What he was _about to do _is get himself sent to Juvenile Hall.

Reluctantly, Jacob turned to face the Matriarch. "I came here for Lowell. He's the best mechanic in town…even if his place of employment is run by _criminals_."

Gemma folded her arms across her chest. "The garage is on the other side of the lot. We're gonna try this one more time before I have to get the club involved. What are you doing _here_?"

"It may not be my business how you people raise your children. But it _is _my business how I raise _my _children," he huffed. Then the judge turned to glare over at Jax. "I'm here to make myself clear. I want _you _and _your family_ to stay the hell away from my daughter. You understand me, Teller?"

Jax sat the beer in his hand on the counter. "What the hell are you talking about?"

What the hell was this man talking about?

It couldn't be Tara.

Shit went south weeks after Tara had confided in him about the adoption papers she'd found in their house years ago.

Her and Sarah were finally going to get their wish. To become sisters—legally. Or at least that was what Gloria Hale intended. Tara had been worried about her father. Worried about him being on his own. _And _worried there wasn't a chance in hell he'd go along with it.

In the end she didn't have anything to worry about anymore.

The Hales shut her out just as soon as their sent their _real _daughter away.

Was he talking about Tara?

Was all forgiven? Had the Hale's finally decided to let the girl they abandoned back into the fold?

_Maybe _that's _why that douche bag Hale was looking at her like that earlier, _Jax thought. _Father Hale wouldn't approve of her fraternizing with the enemy… _again.

Jax hoped Tara wasn't being pulled back into their family drama. She deserved better than someone who would cast her aside after one mistake.

After a mistake she'd made to protect someone—to protect _him. _

While Jax's mind was spinning with how the Hale's could affect him and Tara _again _his mother had reached a different conclusion.

Gemma's eyes widened. "So you're finally ready to stop hiding Princess Fuck-up from all your constituents. _Hmm_…that must have been one hell of a reform school you sent her to."

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about, _bitch_," Hale snapped.

Jax jumped up, the stool he'd been sitting crashing to the floor behind him.

Gemma grabbed him by the back of his white-and-blue |SONS| T-shirt, and yanked him backwards. She put a hand on his shoulder, gripping. Her other hand flew to her hip, a wicked smile on her face.

"What I _know_ is that the Club has one _hell of a lawyer_. The kind of legal representation that'll probably get Jackson out of any _real _time he'd do for beating the shit out of a county Judge," Gemma threatened. "What I _know _is my son's a lot like his father. He's not afraid of handcuffs or _paper-pushing thugs_ who think they're better than everyone else because they have degrees hanging up on their walls. And you want to know _what else _I know? I know you got about ten seconds before I let my son rearrange your face with his fists. So if I were you, I'd _get the fuck out._"

Judge Hale pointed a finger at Jax. "I mean what I said, boy. Stay away from Sarah."

Then he stormed off towards the garage.

"I can't _stand_ that asshole… or his douche bag son," Jax lamented.

"I know, _baby_," Gemma agreed. Then she smirked. "But if I remember correctly his daughter didn't seem to bother you _at all._"

"Nope" Jax polished off the bottle he'd abandoned on the counter. "Sarah always kept things interesting."

"That man is delusional. That Hale girl was the one chasing _you_ around. She was like a dog with a bone. He needs to give _her _the speech about steering clear."

"_Yeah_." Jax nodded. He sat down on one of the lounge chairs, leaning his head back against the leather cushion. Gemma sat beside him, raked a freshly manicured hand through her sons slicked back hair. She started drumming a massage against his scalp the way she used to do when she read him his bedtime story when Jax was younger.

Jax shut his eyes against the sensation, settling into it—letting her do the _comforting mother_ thing he couldn't seem to get her out of—no matter how much he complained about it.

Jackson Teller loved his mother—flaws and all.

And he could never seem to stay mad at her…._even when she _really _deserved it._

"How many days of detention you got left?" Gemma said.

"Tomorrow's supposed to be my last day," Jax answered, his eyes still closed.

"_Good. _I talked to Lowell. He agreed to let you work with him on the Panhead that just came in. Said he'll show you the ropes. But you'll do it on _your own time._ That means you need to be here early after school so you and Opie can finish your work first."

Jax's face lit up with the infamous Lady Killer smile, but his eyes were still closed.

"JT said I could get my own bike as soon as I know how to maintain it myself," Jax gushed.

At least he still had one thing to look forward—his _first _ride. His father wouldn't ruin _that much _at least.

Gemma beamed at her son.

Jax swore he could _feel_ it without even looking at her. "You watch Lowell closely and you'll be riding solo in no time, baby…. _Shit. _You're already a skirt-chasing little asshole. Wait until you get your Harley. I'll be beating them off you with a stick."

Jax chuckled. "Come on, Ma. You know I don't chase after _anyone. _And besides…I don't need the Kutte or a bike to hook em'. All I need is the _Teller Charm._"

He could feel it the second her fingers stopped moving against his scalp.

Jax opened his eyes, turning to face her just as the calculating look she'd worn before slid in place of the proud smile she had seconds ago.

"_What?_"

Gemma looked her son in the eye, steeling him with her hawk-like gaze. "Speaking of Teller Charm…I heard you and Tara Knowles are getting friendly again."

Jax moved to jump up from the couch, but Gemma's hand gently pushed against his chest, stilling him.

"Relax, Jackson," Gemma urged. "I'm not accusing you of any—"

"_Good. _Because you're the last person that _should _be making _any _accusations."

How had she done it? His mother _clearly_ had a gift.

She could make a man go from content to pissed-off in zero to sixty.

"Are you two…I just want to know—,"

_I don't know _what _we are._

"Why the hell do you care? Afraid your husband might have to _threaten_ her again?"

"Jackson—"

Jax flung her hand off his chest, jumping up from the couch. "You want to know something _Gemma?_ You really need to find some friends your own age too shoot the shit with instead of gossiping with sixteen year old girls who don't even know what the hell they're talking about!"

"Wendy said she saw you with her and you were—"

"Wendy comes home with _me _every night. And when I'm done with her I kick her ass out the next morning just like I'd do any other girl—"

"—any other girl like _Tara_?—"

"—so what the hell makes you think I give a shit what Wendy says about _anything_? I _love_ her mouth, Ma but talking's not what she usually does with it when I'm around."

Jackson knew he sounded like a grade-A dickhead even as the words flew off his tongue. But what was he supposed to do?

That damn girl was always opening her mouth. Why would she go running to his mom about _Tara_? For someone who claimed to know what she meant to him, Wendy seemed determined to fuck with his life.

Running people off was Gemma Teller's _specialty_. Part of Jax even wondered if _she _was the reason JT was shutting them out.

And if she kept this up she wouldn't have to chase _Wendy_ away.

_He'd_ be the one doing the chasing.

"You could spew venom all you want. I can see through the bullshit. I know you care about her so don't—"

"OF COURSE I CARE ABOUT HER!" Jax yelled in frustration. "I never _stopped_ caring about her! Not even when she hated me for what _you _did to her."

It was a rare sight to be seen.

Jax couldn't remember the last time he'd shocked his mother into shutting her damn mouth.

The magic didn't last long though.

"I was talking about _Wendy_," Gemma deadpanned. _Gotcha_, her tone said.

"_What?"_

"I meant…I knew you cared about _Wendy._"

Realizing his mistake, Jax squared his shoulders. "I _do _care about Wendy."

Gemma nodded. Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder she said, "I know, baby..." _You're just not in love with her._

She didn't have to finish her sentence. Jax knew his mother. Melodramatic for NO reason _as usual._

He never hid the fact that he cared about Tara. But he wasn't about to go near the 'L' word with a ten-foot pole.

Only a fool would even _consider_ falling for someone that he knew would never stick around.

He could see it her eyes, always, whenever she looked at him. He could recall how those emerald gems would sparkle every time she'd go on and on about her mom's hometown in Chicago. When she'd gush about how nice the city life sounded. How her mother had promised to take her before she'd gotten sick.

Tara wanted more out of life than the small-town of Charming, California had to offer her.

Tara Knowles was beautiful, a free spirit—like a butterfly.

And they always flew away eventually.

They moved on.

And Jax's life was and always _would be _exactly where he stood.

Club Reaper. _SAMCRO. _A man of Mayhem.

Jackson Teller was smarter than his mother gave him credit for. He knew better than to set himself for heartbreak.

Jax and Tara were _friends. _

She was just a pretty girl he liked to flirt with on occasion. And no one could fault him for that.

He had a _penis _for crying out loud. It wasn't love—it was _biology_.

"Look, ma," Jax said, sighing. "Tara and I are _friends. _At least until she finds a reason to shut me out tomorrow or the next week. I'm too young to be caught up in _any _girl. Especially one that could never understand the life I'll always be a part of. Stop fussing over me. _Please. _Give it a rest already."

"Okay, Jackson." Gemma's hands were in his hair again. "Just as long as you remember she doesn't _have_ to understand. And you don't owe _anyone _an explanation or apology for living your life."

Jax nodded stiffly. "So you're gonna leave her alone?"

Gemma scoffed. Walking back towards the bar she said, "_Yes_, Jackson. I'll steer clear of her. What did you think I was going to do anyway? _Kill her_?"

"I doubt you're _that_ nuts," Jax half-joked. But there was a coldness in the pit of stomach at the mere thought of that.

It was _irrational _and completely off base.

So he pushed the fear of his mother's boundaries—or lack of—and shot a sly smile his mother's way. "I figured you'd just head over to _Monroe Market _to buy ingredients for the pancake breakfast you planned in your head the _second_ Wendy told you Tara _sneezed_ in my direction."

Gemma balled up the dishrag on the counter, launching it at her son.

"Quit thinking you're psychic, you little shithead."

Jax hit the nail on the head and he _knew _it. One of these days _taking things into her own hands _was gonna bite his mother in the ass.

But Gemma had always been this way. And as irritating as she was…at least _she _hadn't changed.

The man rounding the corner, coming from one of the back dorm rooms, however…

He may has well have been a stranger.

"Hey, Son," Johnathan Teller said quietly.

Zero to sixty all over again.

But this time instead of anger all Jackson felt was depression. His old man was starting to rub off on him.

He needed to get the hell away from him before booked his own trip to the land of Whiskey and potatoes.

"I'll see you later, Ma."

"_Son_, we need to talk," JT said to Jax's back.

Jax turned around. "The last time I tried that I got punched in the face."

"_Jackson_!" Gemma scolded.

"its fine, Gem," JT said.

"_No." _Jax seethed. "It's _not._ And that's the problem."

"You need to hear him out, Jack—"

"I was supposed to meet up with Wendy half an hour ago. I'm _late."_

Gemma shook her head. "Wendy's in Tijuana with her cousin hunting down her mother…how'd you plan on getting there? You own a jet I don't know about?"

Jax just shrugged. "Have it your way, _Gem._ I was just trying to spare his feelings."

_Which is more than he's done for us. He doesn't give a _shit _how we feel about him shutting _us _out._

Jax turned away. And he saw Opie walking towards him.

"You're just in time, bro," Jax said. His smile was actually genuine despite the tension in the room.

Tension that his best friend knew to ignore.

"Donna's making me _dinner_." Opie wriggled his eyebrows. "She told me to invite you to join. She's trying to show off all the skills her grandma taught her when she worked at her restaurant over the summer."

"You got a good one, Opie," Gemma commented. "I bet she'd make a fine _Old Lady _someday."

"They're a little too young to be thinking about any of that, Gem," JT interjected. "All in due time, kids." Then he winked at Opie.

Opie offered him a small smile before looking at Jax.

His best friend looked like he'd swallowed a lemon.

"What?" Opie dared asking.

"_I swear he's like a fuckin fortune cookie_," Jax mumbled, loud enough for only Opie to hear. "I'll see you later, _Gem," _Jax added louder.

Then he walked off, never looking back… because _why should he? _

When he needed him all he ever saw was his father's back—either that or an empty chair at the head of the dining room table.

* * *

They were half-way across the lot when Jax couldn't help himself.

"So how often does Tara come over your place anyway?" he blurted out.

Opie snickered.

"Your _track star_ is at work until closing time. Me and Donna saw her earlier and she looked like a zombie before her shift even _started_. It's probably gonna be just us _three_ tonight."

Jax punched Opie in his side just as they reached his Old man Piney's pickup truck.

"She's not _my_ track star."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm _serious_, bro. She's not _my _anything."

They both climbed inside of the truck. Then _almost_ as an afterthought, Jax used his most _I'm bored _tone of voice when adding, "Besides I'm pretty sure she has a boyfriend. I wonder who it is…probably that band geek always offering to walk her to class. If it _is _she could do better than _that _pizza-faced idiot. He rides a bike to school. An actual _bike. _With a _chain_ not an engine."

"I called your house this morning, you know," Opie said, laughing. "Gemma told me you were nursing a hangover after you got into it with your Old man last night. She said she wasn't dropping you off at my house for school today."

Jax shrugged, pulling a cigarette from the carton on the dashboard of the truck. "_So what_?"

Opie twisted the keys in the truck's ignition. "_Soo…._You didn't make it to any of your classes today…_Gemma gave you a pass_."

"She's bound to do it every once in a blue." Jax blew smoke through his nose, passing the cigarette to his friend.

"Well if you got a pass on school why did you show up _just_ for detention?"

Jax jerked around to face his best friend since the sandbox. Fixing a glare on Opie's smug expression, he snapped. "What the fuck is _this _shit? I thought I left the Question_ Queen_ back at the clubhouse."

Opie chuckled. "Ahhh, man! My life would be _so_ much easier if I could get my _girlfriend _to answer my questions, too."

"I ain't answer you _shit._" Jax snatched the cigarette from his hand.

"Of course you did," Opie taunted. "And you did it without even meaning to."

"Fuck _you_."

"You sure you and Tara don't share the same brain?"

"We probably share the same desire to punch you in the throat."

Opie laughed harder still. "Yu-_uup_."

* * *

**|REVIEW|**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** I'm always and** forever** Team "trackstar" &amp; "Biker prince". Remember that when our favorite (at the moment TEENAGE) couple take us for a spin on the emotional roller coaster I locked them into.

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

Three hours down.

Three more to go.

Tara's arms felt like spaghetti from all the boxes and cans.

Lift and carry.

Shelve, restock.

Open package, sort and stack.

It was tedious and never-ending. When she walked it felt like someone slipped blocks of lead inside each of her shoes. And she was pretty sure the back and forth between the walk-in freezer's zero degree temperature and the lack of AC in the back warehouse was going to make her sick.

Every time she thought of saying '_fuck it_' and walking out she remembered why she needed a job in the first place. Unlike most teenagers it wasn't because her parents thought she should learn some responsibility. It wasn't because she wanted a little extra cash so she could go out and hang with her friends. Working was necessary for survival. She didn't _want _a part-time job—she _needed _it.

And Karen Monroe, the Head Manager _knew_ that.

She also knew her boyfriend Elliot helped Tara get the job. That's why she went out of her way to make Monroe Market's newest employee jump through hoops.

Tara couldn't _wait_ for her to leave the store in the evenings. And half way through Tara's shift she always did. That was usually when the assistant manager, Keith gave her a moment to catch her breath.

Today was no different.

"_Tara, doll_!"

Whenever he said her name it made her skin crawl a little.

Tara looked up from the spot on the ground she'd been absently staring at for the past five minutes.

"Huh?"

Keith pulled the cap off of his head, wiping the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his employee uniform. Squinting over at her from outside of the elevated warehouse doors he said, "You still got three more hours of this and you look like you're gonna pass out." Keith looked at his watch. "You're due for your break. _Thirty minutes._"

Normally Tara would head straight for the employee's locker room and cram as much homework as possible into the half an hour window. Instead of getting up she continued to sit on the box she was _supposed_ to have opened ten minutes ago. Through the corner of her eye she could see Keith leering at her. She was way too tired to be grossed out about it.

"I'll tell you what, honey…if you _promise_ not to tell Karen I'll tack on an extra fifteen minutes _just for you_. You should head over to that diner across the street. Get yourself a cup of coffee…or _four._ Just remember to bring me back a cup."

Tara summoned the strength to get up. "How do you want it?" she asked, already walking off.

"Black as _them shorts you got on_…"

He couldn't see her when she wrinkled her nose. "Sugar?"

"I want it just as sweet as _you _are, Darlin'."

_Ugh._

Tara quickly headed to the other side of lot before she could give into temptation and tell off the _only_ co-worker she had that didn't make her miserable—even if he was a pervert.

* * *

The bells above the diner's door barely finished ringing when Tara opened it before the _screeching _began.

"_LADY TEE!_"

Tara turned to her left just in time to see Sarah Hale barreling into her, flinging her arms around her neck.

_She's baaack._

"Oh my god! Oh my _fuckin_ god! _Look_ at _you!_" Sarah walked a circle around Tara appraising her from head to toe. "No _wonder…_"

"No wonder _what_?"

Sarah's grey eyes sparkled with mischief. She had the same look that always manifested whenever Tara asked her something she had no intention of answering truthfully—or _at all._

"_Sit_!" Sarah grabbed a hold of the off-guard brunette's arm and pulled her into the nearest booth, sitting down across from her. As soon as they were seated the waitress brought over Tara's regular order without even asking.

She asked Sarah if she wanted anything before walking back behind the counter.

Sarah flipped her long honey-blonde curls over her shoulders.

Tara's eyes widened. "You got the tattoo you wanted!" Tara exclaimed zeroing in on the butterfly engraved along her collarbone.

"Hell yeah, I did! My mother wanted to _kill me_ when she saw it but _then_ she found out Jake knocked that Carlie whore up and ever since then _he's _been the one in the hot seat!"

Tara giggled. "When were you _ever_ in the hot seat for anything?"

"_Oh shut up_! Don't let me find out Jake wasn't the _only_ one calling me the Golden Child." Sarah reached across the table, lightly yanking Tara's already loose ponytail. "You look exhausted, _Tee_," Sarah said. "Is _Arthur_ keeping you up? I could ask my mom if—"

"I'm _fine_! My dad's fine! We're both fine!" Tara answered quickly.

Sarah frowned. "What's going on?"

Tara chewed her bottom lip.

Part of her was happy to have her friend back, someone to confide in again.

But the other part felt almost as if she was sitting across from a stranger.

She couldn't shake the feeling that things were different now even if they seemed to be the same as before. _Sure_, Sarah was still a honey-blonde ball of energy. She was _still _daddy's little princess. And she was still the girl who was always ready to be her shoulder to cry—her escape from her father…_if_ she needed it.

A couple years back she _did_. But ever since Opie reached out she'd managed without the Hales—without _any _of them.

Intuition was telling her to keep it that way.

"Things are actually better at home," Tara lied. "I'm just a little burned out. It's gonna take some getting used to now that I'm working part-time _and_ going to school."

Needing something to do Tara brought the steaming mug in her hand to her lips and sipped it.

"_Yikes_." Sarah winced. "You're working after school? How the hell are you gonna find time for cheerleading?"

Tara choked on her coffee. Clearing the tears from her eyes, she gawked at her childhood best friend. "_Cheerleading?"_

"_Duh_! We both said we'd try out for the team our freshman year, remember? Obviously we couldn't before, and I know you were too big of a _chicken_ to do it without me _but I'm back now_!"

Tara's eyes were big as saucers again. "You're enrolling at Charming High?"

Sarah winked. "Already done, Tee. Daddy sent _Davey _to sign me up this afternoon."

_So much for him _remembering _I had detention._

_Lying JACKASS. _

"You're _really _back," Tara half-whispered.

Sarah giggled. "Aren't you _happy_? We get to spend the next three years making up for lost time! Dance team! Drama club! Pep squad! _I can't wait!"_

"_Year _and a half," Tara corrected, smiling. "And I don't know about the cheerleading but I am glad you're back, '_Rah_."

Sarah scrunched her eyebrows together. "_Year and a half_? What did you skip a grade while I was gone or something?"

Tara fixed her eyes on the mug in front of her. "I took some extra classes last year…the less time at home the better ya know?"

_Wasn't I supposed to be pretending things were good at home?_

"Anyway," Tara continued, "I took a few college courses _too_ over at community—"

"—I guess Mrs. Oswald still has a soft spot for you."

Tara nodded. "Yeah...I'm taking some extra courses this winter too &amp; if they let me this summer. If I maintain my GPA…_I could graduate early_**."**

Sarah whistled. "_Damn_ girl. At least I know _you_ haven't changed. You're still the _brains _of this dynamic duo."

Tara chuckled. "Yeah and you're still the _beauty_…"

Sarah cocked her head to the side. Tara had to fight against fidgeting as her grey eyes studied her. "I don't know, Tara. These days you kinda got the whole Snow White thing going for you…you know, if you could look beyond the bad dye job."

Unconsciously, Tara patted her hair. "I didn't _dye_ my hair."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "_Really? _I remember your hair being darker."

"Sunlight I guess." Tara shrugged.

Sarah scoffed. "How? When are you _ever_ outside to stand in it? You're probably always in the library. Or at home reading a book."

"Well reading was something we both have in common." Tara grinned. "Especially Roald Dahl."

"That was when we were _eight._" Sarah rolled her eyes. "Things change…well _I _have any way. I see you're still intent on being better than everyone."

_Where the fuck did _that _come from?_

Tara's thoughts were clearly reflected on her face because Sarah reached for her hand on the table. "_Hey. _I never said it was a_ bad_ thing. _It's good you want to be great._"

Tara's frown disappeared but her earlier smile didn't resurface. "_I want to make it the hell out of Charming_. My mom moved here for _my dad_. I don't think I'm meant for small town life. I just need to better myself so that I'll _be_ better off. I won't turn into my dad. And I don't want to settle like my mom did either."

"You won't, Lady Tee," Sarah encouraged. "You're _gonna kick ass_. A high powered defense attorney _or_ you can run for office, defend all the little people."

Tara giggled. "I was actually think I'd do something in the medical field."

"_Oooh_. Now you're talking. You should be a plastic surgeon." Sarah leaned across the table, shaking her chest. "Then you can do my boob job pro-bono."

Tara laughed, shaking her head. "Pro-bono surgery isn't for elective procedures, dork."

Sarah rolled her eyes, her grey eyes steeled. "Maybe you should just be a professor. That way you can get paid to correct people all the time."

_Seriously, What the _Hell_?_

Sarah phone buzzed before Tara could form a response.

Looking down at the screen, Sarah stood up. "I gotta go. Mom's planning this _welcome home dinner _for me and I'll never hear the end of it if I don't show up."

_Maybe it's family shit that's triggering the Bitchy mood swings._

"Enjoy." Tara picked up her mug and raised it to her.

Sarah looked up from her phone. "Maybe I'll drop by your place after. I can sleep over. We'll go to school together. _Like old times_."

Then she walked off before Tara could figure out how to tell her she might not even _make it _to school tomorrow with the way she was feeling.

Tara shook her head, taking another sip of the _now_ Luke-warm caffeine when the bells on the door jingled again.

"_Tara?_"

Tara whipped around at the sound of Sarah's voice.

"Hmm?"

"_My brother's being a jackass. _My parents never blamed _you. _My dad was _hurt _ but he forgave you a long time ago…so I don't know what bullshit excuse he gave you, but you shouldn't let him get away with it. _You're better than that, _Tee."

Tara smiled over at her, nodding her head once. Sarah gave her, her signature _wink._

And then she strutted off—in the _opposite_ direction of her brothers awaiting car—where Jacob Jr. sat behind the wheel with an irritated look on his face.

_Good to see _you _haven't changed either, Sarah._

_You still like torturing your older brother's._

_And you still have no idea_ _who your father _really_ is._

* * *

All the aisles were clear and the shelves were as stocked as they were going to get. Tara closed out the final cash register, then headed straight to her locker to grab her things.

"Good night, Keith!" She yelled out in no particular direction. Mr. McPervy was somewhere in the empty store. Her calling out to him would have to do because she was not about to look for him.

When Tara finally walked through those sliding glass doors, she welcomed the toasty feeling of the humidity on her skin after spending all day working with the air conditioning cranked up high.

Free at last.

And with one hell of a hike ahead of her.

Times like this, Tara wished she wasn't so damn stubborn.

Her father was _most definitely_ too drunk to pick her up (not that she'd ask), asking Opie for a ride meant dealing with his girlfriend, and she refused to call David because he was a lying jackass.

That left her walking—walking home.

Because apparently she wasn't too tired to say _fuck that!_ to asking anyone for help.

Tara was three blocks up before a familiar car slowed on the other side of the street.

She saw the exact moment he spotted her walking—David made a quick U-turn, circling back to her side of street before jumping from his brother's jeep.

"Tara!"

David caught up with her in seconds—not that it took much effort with the speed she was walking—or better yet, lack of speed.

"I'm sorry"—_as usual_—"I lost track of time!"

_Whatever_. "I thought you said to call you when I was ready for you to pick me up after work," Tara commented dryly.

"I _did_. And you never called."

"That should have told you something."

"Tara—"

Tara whipped around to face him. She almost laughed when he instinctively backed up.

_I must look as pissed off as I feel….GOOD._

"You _remembered_ I had detention?" She waited for the accusation to sink in. Understanding registered in his eyes before she shook her head at him. "Even your own sister is telling me not to put up with your shit."

"You saw Sarah?" David looked like he might actually throw up.

Tara chuckled bitterly. "Goodbye, David."

"Wait," he said grabbing her arm.

Tara jerked away violently, shaking his hand off. "WHAT?"

"What did she say to you? Did she tell—"

"She didn't have to say _anything_," Tara snapped. She took a deep breath to try to calm her nerves—_it didn't work_ and before she knew it she was _screaming_. "Almost _five_ months we've been together and you didn't want _anybody_ to know... I thought it was because of your parents…be-because of what they might say if they found out Little Davey was dating that deadbeat drunk's daughter…Or maybe they were still pissed because I didn't help them put Jax's mom in jail for what happened to Sarah… So imagine my surprise when I hear from Sarah herself that your parents never blamed me in the first place."

"I never said—you just assumed—"

"Well _forgive me_ if I have to make assumptions about all the shit that you won't tell me! All you ever do is change the subject. _I'm done letting you_!"

"Tara, listen to—"

"—and _what the hell was that_ with Opie today, huh?" Tara's eyes narrowed to slits. She spoke through her teeth. "We can't be together 'in public' but it's okay for you to grab my ass and shove your tongue down my throat in a parking lot. Calling me _baby_ was a nice touch, by the way. I guess this whole secrecy thing only applies when you're not feeling _threatened_."

"I'm _always_ feeling threatened, Tara!"

_Ughh._ "I am going to say this one. More. Time. There is nothing between me and Jack—"

"—it's not about _him_!"

"Then what the hell is it about, David? _What the hell is wrong with you?_"

David's mouth opened and closed—like a fuckin Muppet.

_I'm so done with this shit_.

"I've let you get away with this for so long because I felt guilty." Tara threw her arms, dropping them to her sides. "I'm done feeling guilty about anything."

Tara moved to cross the street when David's voice rang out behind her.

It was quiet, soft—almost like he didn't want her to hear him.

"You're not the only one that feels guilty, Tara… but unlike you I actually have a reason to be."

She could hear the fear in his voice. What the hell was he afraid of? And hadn't she given him enough time to come clean?

Tara was done waiting for him to open up.

This was it.

The final straw.

Tara stopped walking—but she didn't turn to face him again. "What are you talking about, David?"

"It was my fault."

Enough with the fuckin half-answers. "What was?" she asked, her voice hard as steel.

"_I'm the reason they didn't go through with the adoption_."

Of all the things she'd thought he might say, the words David spoke never once crossed her mind. Tara turned around slowly to face him—and when she did, the tidal wave of emotion on his face made her chest tighten.

The walls—they were finally down.

She could see the truth in his eyes—the stress, the guilt, the fear. Every emotion he'd been hiding was staring her right in the face. Tara had thought she was tired, but looking at him she knew her lack of sleep didn't compare to the exhaustion David felt.

Is this the reason he'd been hiding her from his family?

Because he was afraid that one of them would tell something she _already knew? _She'd known it years before. She'd spent a long time wondering if it was because he hated her as much as his _father _Judge Hale did.

She'd known a long time ago that David had been the one child who told Gloria Hale he didn't want her to pursue custody of Tara.

The only thing she never knew was _why._

Looking in his eyes, Tara knew in her heart, that whatever his reason was, it weighed down on him heavily. It made him anxious—terrified him even. Because whatever it was, it was clear to her that he didn't think she'd forgive him for it.

Part of her felt bad playing stupid—but she didn't have a choice. She'd kept the charade going _this _long.

"You knew about the adoption?"

David looked over towards the other side of the street. "Sarah was your best friend for years...you see her the same way I do. She's a spoiled brat. She's daddy's little girl… …and normally she gets _whatever_ she wants no matter what. Me and Jake, we always come second…but my parents…they may not act like it all the time but they love their sons just as much. They care about what we want...and when my mom convinced my dad… they asked us how we felt about it…a-and I told them I didn't want you to be a part of the family."

Moments passed before either of them said anything.

"_Why?_" Tara finally asked. She hadn't realize she was crying until she heard the crack in her own voice.

David looked as anxious as she _felt_.

Tara's heart was racing.

"I swear to _God_, Tara, I had no idea things were that bad with your father…I just—I thought—Sarah always said you were—I just…_Damn it!_ I'm really gonna lose you... For real this time."

"_Why?_" Tara choked out again, wiping the steady stream of tears clouding her vision.

"…Opie's dad was always looking out for you…and he was _right_ next door. I thought he'd be there for you the way your mom was there for him when Opie's mother left."

"David—"

He wasn't even listening to her anymore. He was caught up in his own head, pacing back and forth. "It was _selfish_…I didn't think about what _you_ wanted…It was all about me…about how _I _felt…never mind if you _needed_ us…I didn't care if you wanted to be a part of the family…"

"David—"

"… and what was the point? In the end I lose anyway…you're never going to—"

"DAVID!"

David stopped pacing. Dejected eyes met with watery, green ones.

"_Tell me_," Tara said. It was practically a plea. "I need you to tell me why...Why didn't you want me to be a part of your family?"

If they were at a party, both the crowd and the music would have faded out.

If they were on a stage, the curtain would have risen, and the only light would be on the spot where he stood.

He was coming clean—and when he did neither of them could ever turn back.

"I couldn't be in love with my _sister_."

Tara's breath hitched, her heart pounded against her ribs.

"I'm in love with you, Tara," David confessed. "_I always have been_."

This moment—right here and now—was what she'd wanted all along. Tara always thought she would feel weightless when she finally heard the words every teenage girl wanted to hear.

She kept waiting for the joy. The ecstasy.

Instead all she felt was _guilt_.

He loved her _now. _But would he still love her once he found out the truth about _his_ father? What he did to her? Would Jacob Hale's doting son still choose _her _then?

Tara had been such a hypocrite, all this time—lying to everyone, including Jax.

_Jax. _

Jackson Teller: the friend who always meant just a _little more _to her than either of them wanted to admit.

She could never tell David the truth about Judge Hale, but Jax was the one thing she _could_ fix.

Tara knew how her and Jax looked to other people. What almost happened in detention earlier was a perfect example. David might not want to admit it but she knew in her heart that Jax was _another_ reason he'd been so hesitant to tell her how he felt.

_"….I bet you Hale will grow some balls when he realizes you might choose Jax over him _again_."_

Opie was right. And she couldn't even say David's worries were irrational. Tara Knowles and Jackson Teller had been doing the will they or won't they dance since they were old enough to know the opposite sex didn't really have cooties.

But things would _never _work out between her and Jax. The younger biker prince was being groomed for a life she'd _never_ want to be a part of. And in the end he'd probably just break her heart, whether it was intentional or collateral damage. All they had was white-hot _chemistry_—and the thrill of going after something you know you couldn't have.

Tara was done risking her relationship.

"Things with my dad are okay," Tara lied. What was one more half-truth? Things _were _okay. It was like David said, she had _Opie. _"All that stuff I said back at school? I was just saying that because I was angry. I wanted to make you feel bad."

"I _already_ feel bad."

Tara moved closer to him, placing her hand on his cheek. "You don't _have _to. I'm not mad anymore….and I never want you to feel guilty for loving me."

David moved closer, still. "I _do _love you, Tara," he said, hazel eyes searching. Tara knew what he was waiting for.

But that was the _one _lie she refused to tell him.

Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her body melting into his. Tara tilted her chin up, gently pulling his head down. He met her half-way, crushing his lips against hers—and she kissed him back with all she had.

David Hale was in love with her.

He's said it with his words. And the way he moved against her solidified how he felt, warming her from her head, way down to the tips of her toes.

And it was _all_ there—all the magic…the sparks…the _butterflies._

But she couldn't tell him what he wanted to hear—not _yet_. She wanted no doubt in her heart when she said it.

* * *

Monroe Market was only a twenty minute drive away from Tara's house. The whole ride there, David never once let go of her hand. Every so often he would glance over at her and smile.

And Tara felt just a little bit shittier each time she smiled back.

A weight had been lifted off _his_ shoulders. But now _she _was the one with all the secrets—one more dangerous than the other. She had no way of knowing which one would be more _painful_ for him to hear.

When David pulled up in front of her driveway she had to force herself not to bolt from the car. He told her he loved her _again_ and she avoided saying it back by kissing him.

Tara waved from the top of her front steps. It didn't matter how conflicted she felt. She didn't want him feeling guilty about her father anymore.

She waited until he pulled off to walk over to knock on Opie's bedroom window. When he didn't respond she slid the window open, climbing inside.

If Opie was already asleep she'd hit the jackpot tonight. She might actually get to take a decent shower without him lecturing her about how girls take _forever _to wash their asses.

Opie was _such _a pain in the neck sometimes. Him and Donna really were perfect for each other.

* * *

**|REVIEW|**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** It's easy to say you're going to do something. Actually doing it is the tricky part.

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

_Dinner was amazing_.

Tinkerbelle really knew her way around a kitchen. Of course Jax had struggled to keep his food down after watching Donna and his best friend fawn over each other the whole time. But it was a pretty goodnight—good as it was going to get as far as Jax was concerned.

"I have to go _home_," Donna had pouted. As usual she spent ten minutes complaining about her curfew, Opie did the _sulking_ "I don't want to be away from you more than a minute" adoring boyfriend routine. And Jax watched the whole thing, making a mental note to give his best friend hell about it the first chance he got.

That was an hour ago. Jax had a feeling Opie would be a while. As innocent as Donna liked to _pretend_ she was he knew they were probably making up for the alone time they didn't get to have because they invited Jax to their dinner night.

Normally Jackson Teller was _never _one to cock-block anyone, much less his best friend but Wendy was missing in action and he _really _didn't want to go home tonight. The force of _havoc_ that is Gemma Teller was probably waiting for him at the dining room table, with his old man super-glued to the chair at the head of the table. The _last _thing he wanted was another heart to heart.

Jax settled in on the couch, some old movie he was barely paying attention to on the TV. He wasn't exactly sure when he dozed off or how long he'd been sleep. But he woke up to the sound of the shower running.

Jax heard the squeak of the water being turned off, the bathroom door opening and the footsteps down the hall to Opie's bedroom. Jax reached up to that spot behind his ear, only to realize he'd already used the cigarette he'd had tucked there before. Remembering the pack he'd spotted on Opie's dresser earlier, he sat there impatiently, flicking through the channels. They may change in front of each other in the locker room but that didn't mean Jax wanted to see Opie's naked ass any more often than necessary.

He decided to give him a chance to toss something on. Twenty-five minutes later, Opie still hadn't walked out. Jax shook his head as he got up off the couch. Only _girls _took that long to get dressed.

Jax knocked twice. When no one answered he stepped inside, flicking the light on.

The very first thing he noticed were her _legs_.

Tara was spread out across Opie's bed.

_Naked._

Well not _exactly—_but she might as well have been.

Is this what Tara did every time her father went into a drunken rage? Run next-door, hop in her neighbor's shower and then fall asleep on top of the sheets of his bed without bothering to put clothes on?

Because if so him and his best friend were going to have a talk about swapping households. Jax would _gladly _sleep on the floor every night if this was the view he had to look forward to.

The purple robe was barely covering her—the tie loosened, probably from when she'd rolled on to her side. She had one slipper hanging half-off. The other one was on the floor, right below her other bare, dangling foot. Her hair was twisted up in a large bath towel.

Tara had fallen asleep before she even got dressed. And once again he was caught up in just how beautiful she looked, even when she was exhausted.

Ignoring the sensible-voice in his head telling him to head back to the living room, Jax pushed the bedroom door closed with a soft click. As Jax approached her, he'd already convinced himself that waking her up was _the right thing to do_. She wasn't at home—she was in Opie's house and he knew she'd be embarrassed if he walked in on her like that.

That's _all _it was.

_He _didn't care about anything else. He was just looking out for her. Yeah. That's _it._

"Tara," Jax whispered. She didn't move an inch and his mind briefly flashed to Wendy's comment about learning to tune out the noise around her. Was Tara's father really that bad?

Jax shook the thought from his mind. He didn't want to think about that. All it did was piss him off. And rage that he couldn't _do_ anything with was a waste of his energy. He'd rather use it for something more productive.

_Shit._

"Tara," he said a little louder this time. He lightly nudged her shoulder.

Tara sat up so fast, it almost made him jump. And the second she did, her robe flew open, falling off her shoulders—just _barely _covering up all the parts that would make his mouth water.

_Holy Shit._

_Look away. Look away _now_._

Groggy as she was, Tara caught on a little late. She looked down, gasping before quickly yanking the robe completely closed around her. Her cheeks were chili pepper-red. And if Jax didn't think the comment would get him punched in the face, he would have been happy to let her know that from what he could tell, she didn't have a _damn _thing to be embarrassed about.

"I'm sorry," Jax said. _I _wish_ I was anyway. _"I thought it was Opie who—and when I saw it was you and you were…uh…I just thought I should wake you so you Opie wouldn't walk in here and…well _exactly_ what I _thought_ would happen, _happened_." Smiling down at her, he couldn't help but to add, "_And it was so much better than those V-necks you're always wearing_."

Tara looked like she wanted to kick him. Good for her that she didn't act on the impulse. He wasn't sure he could handle seeing anymore of her tonight—especially those legs.

"_Turn around_," Tara demanded.

"I was headed out anyway," Jax commented. _I really don't want to though. Not anymore._

Jax did just as she asked, walking off as soon as he turned, but then he felt her hand on his shoulder.

Wasn't he coming in here for a cigarette anyway? He could sure as hell use a smoke _now_.

Of course he'd have to turn back around in order to walk towards the dresser…

"_Wait,_" Tara said. "Don't go anywhere yet. I wanted to talk to you."

_If you think I'll be focusing on _anything _you say right now you're not the know-it-all everyone thinks you are. _

_You don't know a goddamn thing._

"Can't we do it tomorrow?" Was he imagining things or did his voice really sound strained?

_Damn it._

The spot on his shoulder felt cold when she removed her hand. "We _could. _But I'd rather get this over with."

So it was one of _those _talks. Hadn't he _called it_ earlier with his mom? Jax thought she would last at least a week before finding an excuse to bail on him again.

Not to mention, the whole reason he was at Opie's in the first place was because he didn't _want _another heart to heart…with _anyone. _

Jax was all talked out.

"_Relax, Jax_." Jax was also tired of Tara being the one to end things. That's why the amusement in her voice was the only thing keeping him from walking away first. "It's _not_ what you're thinking. Just give me a second."

Jax was hyperaware of everything going on behind him. He heard her walk over to Opie's dresser. He could tell it was the second one from the bottom—the one that required bending over—that she was opening.

He heard the rustle of clothing, the light _snap _against her waist as she released the band of whatever pajama bottoms she put on. On the wall, he spotted Tara's reflection just as she pulled her arms through a shirt.

"Okay. You can turn around now." Jax turned to face her.

And he was immediately convinced this girl was trying to give him a heart attack.

He'd thought the robe was taunting—her choice of bedtime attire was _worse_.

He recognized the shirt she wore. It was from National Breast Cancer awareness day. She'd got it when they'd walked to honor her mother—_three_ _goddamn years ago. _The T-shirt was about _three _sizes too small—and she wasn't wearing a bra.

The shorts weren't much better. They were the same terry-cloth material she'd had on in the lunch room earlier. But these were smaller…shorter. It was like she knew better than to wear them in public—like she knew she'd probably cause a five-car collision walking down the street. Those shorts were hazardous. He didn't have to wonder why she'd only wear them to bed. They hugged her hips, loose at the ends in just the right way to make him go crazy wondering if she'd put panties on underneath them without his _hypersensitivity_ catching it.

Tara unwrapped the towel from her head. Grabbing a comb on the dresser, she began pulling it through her hair, looking up at him every so often, through the mirror.

"_I'm sorry about today in detention_…." Tara started.

That damn T-shirt was pulling even tighter against her breasts as she reached up to pin her hair back.

"…_we were always the friends who flirted. I don't know why but we've been doing the will they or won't they dance since junior high school. Maybe it's the Teller Charm you were bragging about earlier…either way it doesn't matter because_…."

When she reached for the lotion bottle, Jax groaned inwardly. She was talking a mile and minute and nothing she said was registering. He was too transfixed with the way she ran her hands up and down her legs, massaging the lotion into her thighs. When she moved on to her arms, he was able to focus just enough to hear her comment about having a boyfriend, how she shouldn't have took it out on Jax when she was the one in the wrong.

"_… …tonight he finally opened up to me. We're starting over and I don't want to ruin our relationship just because you and I can't stop letting our crazy teenage hormones get the best of us._"

Tara snapped the cap back on the lotion, sitting it back on the dresser. Then she finally caught his eye again in the mirror.

Jax hoped to God he didn't look as turned on as he felt.

Jax also hoped she couldn't tell that he hadn't been listening to a word she said.

"So what do you think?" Tara asked him. _Shit._ "You think we can pull it off?"

The only thing Jax wanted to pull off was that annoying T-shirt she was wearing. He wanted to slide those poor excuse for shorts down past her ankles. All he could think about were those milky thighs wrapped around his waist. Sitting her on top of the dresser, pressing her back against the mirror. That stupid _clip_ had to go, too. He wanted to tangle his fingers in her hair, tilting her head back so he could see the pleasure in her eyes when he—

"_Jax?_"

What was the last thing she said?

He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember anything she'd been saying for the past ten minutes.

Before he could figure out what he was supposed to be responding to, Tara was walking towards him.

For the first time in his life, Jackson Teller was the one fighting the urge to back away.

This girl was _dangerous. _And she had no fuckin idea.

Tara reached to put her hand on his arm—and _damn it_, he flinched. He actually _flinched. _Instead of laughing like _he _would have if the roles were reversed, she cocked an eyebrow at him. She wasn't even _trying _to tease him—she looked confused.

"_What the hell_, Teller," Tara said. "I'm supposed to be the tired one. Why are you spacing out on _me_?"

"Sorry." Jax cleared his throat. "What did you say?"

"Do you think we can pull it off?"

_You really need to stop all this talk about pulling shit off._

"Pull what off?" Jax forced himself to ask. Tara frowned at him and he had to bite his tongue to keep from saying _don't blame _me, _blame those fuckin pajamas you picked out._

"_Friends_," Tara said, sighing. "Do you think we can be friends _without_ all the extra? No more flirting…no more cat and mouse. No more getting angry when we see each other with another person. No more getting angry when…_Jesus_, Jax. I'm like a broken record here and you look even _more_ confused. Were you even listening to anything I said the past ten minutes?"

_Not really. No. But there was _one _thing I caught._

"You mentioned something about boyfriend." Jax hoped she didn't notice the ice in his voice when he said it.

It wasn't as if he hadn't already figured as much. But her confirming it made him want to pop the chain on that pizza-face having, band geek's ugly green bicycle. Or was that even who she was dating? Had she mentioned a name?

He really should have tried harder to focus.

But that was kind of hard to do when he was already _so fuckin _hard.

"Yes," Tara said. "I _do. _ And playing hot and cold with you isn't fair to him…but I don't want to go back to _before_. You asked me to stop running…so I'm stopping. I'm done taking off every time things get weird between us. We're obviously attracted to one another," Tara continued. _Yeah, no SHIT. _"But we both know that it'll _never_ work. We're better off as friends…and all the flirting back and forth just confuses things for me. That _Teller Charm _of yours? You need to reign it in, Jax. We have to stop toying with each other. That's the only way this friendship is going to last."

"You want to be friends?" Jax asked, his eyebrows rising. _Seriously, you want to talk about _friendship_ when you're dressed like you shop at the fuckin baby gap?_

"We _are _friends, Jax," Tara said, sighing. "That much hasn't changed. But what I need from you… this has to happen if we're going to _stay_ friends."

Jax didn't know what to say. Hadn't he been the one talking about how different they were? Hadn't he already convinced himself that it was better for _both of them _if they never crossed that line?

Why did all of that feel like bullshit now?

"Jax?" Tara was chewing her bottom lip, like she always did when she was nervous _or_ in deep thought about something. He knew it wasn't the thinking this time. Her mind was already made up. She was _nervous. _

Did she really think he was only around her for the thrill of the chase? That he was cozying up to her just to wear her down until he got what he wanted?

_Never._

If agreeing to her terms—torturing himself in the process—was the only way to prove that, he was game.

"_Just friends_, Tara," Jax agreed. The words tasted like vinegar on his tongue. He swallowed the bitterness like a champ. "No more Prince Charming. Should we shake on it?"

Tara beamed. Then before he could react she closed the gap between and pulled him into a hug. He'd barely locked his arms around her waist when she pulled away.

_Jumped _back was more like it. His arms were still curled around her so she couldn't move. She looked down at the tiny space between them.

She _felt _it. Jax knew she did. And he couldn't bring himself to feel bad about it. When those green eyes flashed back up at him, he didn't have to question _what _emotion he saw in them.

Damn it, hadn't they _just _agreed to stop doing their _dance_? So why wasn't letting her go? And why the hell hadn't she pulled away yet?

"_Jax! _Where the hell did you go?" Opie's voice rang out from the living room. "You better not be in my bed. If Tara doesn't show up tonight _your ass _is sleeping on the floor!"

Tara pressed her hands on his forearms until he finally—reluctantly—released her.

Walking backwards towards the bed, she smiled at him meekly. "I'm going to bed now before Opie makes _me _sleep on the floor…Goodnight."

_As good as this night's gonna get._

"Goodnight, _Track star._"

"Not _anymore_!" Tara shot back, winking at him.

Jax gave her a stiff nod, smiling through the fact that it wasn't the _only _thing that was _stiff._ "Right," he agreed. _I guess running through my mind for the rest of the night doesn't count._

* * *

Jax flicked the light off, pulling the door closed as he stepped into the dimly lit hallway. He heard the sound of the fridge opening and closing.

When he walked into the kitchen, Opie looked up from the Harley Manual he'd been leaning against the counter reading. The acknowledgment of his presence in Opie's eyes morphed into a look of amusement—one that was getting to be a little too second nature for Jax's comfort.

"What the hell are you grinning about _now_?" Jax growled. He snatched Opie's open beer off the counter, taking a swig.

"I know that look," Opie said, his grin widening. "That was _my _face whenever Donna would stop me from putting my hands up her shirt. I never thought I'd see the day when _Prince Charming _would be sporting blue balls."

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about," Jax argued. But just to be safe he tried to subtly adjust his jeans.

Of course Opie caught him—and started snickering. "Oh I can't _wait. _You thought the club gave _me _hell for Donna? Wait until they find out who has _your_ boxers in a twist."

Jax flipped him the bird. "They're _still _giving you hell…because you've been acting like a pussy ever since she gave it up. Mark my words, Ope. _I will _never _be like you._"

"Yeah _okay_."

Jax nodded over at him. "So whose the clown Tara's dating anyway? I know _you _know. You follow after like she's your goddamn sister. It's actually kinda cute. _Big brother Opie._"

Opie's eyes narrowed. "I actually thought it was cute that I almost had to kick your ass that morning you saw her hop out of my window. You really think I don't know the Teller _death glare_?"

"Are you going to tell me or not?"

"Ask _her. _I'm not getting involved. I'm telling you like I told Donna. I'm staying out of it." Opie swiped the beer from Jax's hand as soon as he rested it on the counter. "Go find Wendy. _Get laid_. That constipated look on your face is starting to worry me."

"Yeah, I'll get on that," Jax answered, walking towards the couch to grab his hoodie.

"You going _now_?" Opie asked behind him.

"JT and Gemma are probably sleep by now. I'm going home to lay in my own bed," Jax lied. Knowing his mother she was putting on another pot of coffee. He didn't care if he had to walk all the way to Teller Morrow and sleep in the office.

He wasn't going home.

And there wasn't a chance in hell he was staying at Opie's tonight. He'd get _no _rest knowing that Tara was in a bed only a few feet away from him. Sleeping beauty brought on temptation like never before, and he for damn sure was thinking about pricking her finger. He had a whole 'nother scenario.

"Alright, bro," Opie said. "Later."

Jax didn't respond. He just pulled the Winston's front door shut.

* * *

Jax was at the end of Opie's lawn when something to the left caught his eye. There was a familiar blue Jeep parked in front of Tara's house.

What the hell was Jacob Jr's car doing parked there?

_What the hell?_

Maybe he had it wrong. Jax walked towards it, moving in closer, peeking inside the window to see.

"Hey, _handsome._"

Jax spun around at the sound of her voice. Standing behind him, her hair a honey-blonde tidal wave of curls was Sarah Hale.

"_Sarah?_"

Sarah gave him a lopsided grin. "You're the _last_ person I expected to see here."

"What are _you _doing here?" Jax asked as he looked her over. She looked exactly the same as before she left, and yet somehow completely different.

Still _hot. _But different.

Her eyes hadn't change though. _Mischief_ was still swirling in all the shades of grey. She still bit her bottom lip, and lowered her head to look up at him through her lashes.

Sarah Hale was the original _Lolita_ before Wendy Case came around. Clearly, her moves hadn't changed. And Jax couldn't really be mad at her. If it ain't broke, why fix it?

If this were any other night, he would have already taken the hint. She'd be on the hood of her brother's car in ten seconds flat, her legs up on his shoulders.

If only a certain brunette wasn't occupying his mind.

"I was hoping to catch Tara," Sarah explained. "My first day at CHS is tomorrow. I wanted to roll with my BFF, ya know?"

_Yeah, I wanna _roll _with her, too—in Opie's sheets. Or on his floor. Or on some grassy hill somewhere. Don't fuckin matter._

"Why'd you show up so late?" Jax wondered out loud.

Sarah shrugged. "_What?_ Did Arthur finally wake up and realize that fathers are the ones that should be doing the parenting?"

Jax nodded. _Right. _"I forgot how blunt you could be."

Sarah smirked. "Speaking _of_… you or Opie got any weed? I couldn't find my brothers stash. I wouldn't mind rolling one up."

"I see you're still daddy's little girl," Jax joked, shaking his head. "Since when do you smoke?"

Sarah reached towards him, rubbing her hand against his chest. "I do a lot of things, Jax," she teased. "I can show you a few."

Jax chuckled. "Same old Sarah." _I know all about what you do, or did you forget?_ Jax made a show of glancing at his watch. "I gotta go." _As much as I'd like to fuck you just to piss your dad off, I really don't need him making trouble for my dad. Not over pussy._

"Where you headed?" Sarah challenged.

"Club house."

There was that lip biting again. "I see Gemma still lets you run wild."

Jax's eyes narrowed. "Right about now I don't give a shit what Gemma or my old man want from me."

Sarah winced. Sucking her bottom lip, she moved in close to him, her breath tickling his ear. "I can feel the tension rolling off of you. Why don't you let me help work some of that out?"

_Wasn't Tara just teasing me about tension the other day? You two really are best friends, man._

"Maybe another night."

Sarah was making it harder to do the right thing—the _smart _thing. He didn't need any more _hard_. Hard was already pressing against the zipper of his jeans, painfully so.

"What were you planning to do?" Sarah asked, pulling away. "You gonnna walk there?"

Jax shook his head, pulling the cell from his pocket. She'd just given him an idea.

"I was gonna call the prospect. Make him give me a ride."

"Come _on_," Sarah urged. "Leave Kyle alone. I'll give you a ride."

_Damn this girl works fast. Barely back a day and she already knows who's prospecting this year._

Jax fixed his mouth to say _nah, I'm good_, but Sarah chose that moment to reach for him, stroking the erection pressing against his jeans. "Come on, Jax," she whispered, her lips inches from his. "Let's go for a ride."

* * *

Apparently, Sarah's definition of a ride was parking two blocks down from Opie's house. They were at the corner of the road—a dead end on a one-way street.

"I know you've been gone a while, Sarah" Jax said. "But this _isn't _the club house."

Instead of answering him, she shut the car off, leaving the key twisted in the ignition. She leaned over him, her hands feeling for something behind the front passenger seat. Jax heard a soft click before the chair was moving backwards, and Sarah climbed over to his side of the car.

Sarah sat up in his lap, her legs on either side of his waist, smiling at him slyly. It hadn't occurred to him until just then but he didn't even think he had a condom.

He was about to tell her _just that_ when she slid down to her knees on the floor of the car. Slowly—agonizingly slow, she unbuckled his belt, unlooping the buttons of jeans. Her hand pressed down on him as she slid his zipper open. She never broke eye contact with him. Jax lifted his hips up as she pulled at his jeans, yanking his boxers down with them as far as they would go. She started off with slow strokes, pumping him up in down in her hand. When she flicked her tongue against the tip for the first time, Jax groaned. Sarah wrapped her devilish lips around his cock, closing her eyes as she bobbed her head down.

And that was when every image that had playing in his head for the past few days took over of his mind—_seizing_ control of him where he sat. Sarah Hale was sucking his cock like it was her job, and she wanted Employee of the month.

And all he could think about was _Tara__. _

In the math department—the fire in her emerald eyes when Mr. Whitman let him off the hook like everyone else did. Everyone but _her. _

_"Fuck you_, Teller."

She loved to say that. She had _no fuckin idea_ how badly he wanted her to.

Her temper was like his own personal trigger. All he had to do was set her off, and she'd do something to make him anxious to _get _off.

Like when she ran her hands up and down her legs, caressing her thighs…talking all that _shit _about letting him take her back to one of the dorm rooms at the Club house. Taunting him about all the tension she had…about how he should be the one to relieve it. Did she know how badly he wanted to take her at her word? They would have never made it to _Club Reaper_. He would have pulled her straight into that janitor's closet she taunted him about. He'd rip those shorts off her, lift her up and wrap those never-ending legs around his waist, leaning back against all the mops and the brooms as she bounced up and down on his cock, his hands squeezing her ass hard enough to leave a permanent imprint.

If Wendy and Ima hadn't walked in he would have broken his _rule _for _her. _He would have been the one to close the gap—he would have wiped the indecision off her face just as swiftly as her back hit the table when he pushed against her, sliding her shirt up so he could trace circles around her navel with his tongue.

Tara wanted to be _just friends_? His mouth said yes, but she had zero luck convincing the part of him that brushed against her belly when she moved in to hug him back in Opie's room.

That damn shirt was _so _tight, her nipples were pressing against his chest. His fingers barely brushed against the small of her back before conflicting emotions were warring in his mind—he wanted to give her what she wanted, but his _brain _and the painful erection in his pants had opposing opinions on what that was.

What would have happened if Opie hadn't come home when he did? What if they hadn't been interrupted _yet again?_

Would she still be talking that bullshit about being _friends_? About not playing cat and mouse?

Or would he have gotten her on top of that dresser like he wanted to? Nah, they wouldn't have made it that far.

Maybe against the wall. Tara _loved _shoving him. Maybe she'd shove him back against the door and pop the buttons on his shirt when she tore it open with her bare hands. _Her_ shirt would have been the next thing to go. Jax was all for the Breast awareness, _fuck the cancer part. _He'd flick his tongue across each erect nipple, sucking it into his mouth until she moaned his name.

And when they finally slid down to the floor…when he'd finally tossed those pesky shorts aside, he'd _finally_ solve the mystery of if she was wearing panties.

If she was it wouldn't matter.

He'd rip them off of her in seconds.

Then he'd lean back, his head tapping against Opie's door, _willing_ her with his mind to keep those sexy green eyes open as she rode him.

And in no time at all he'd be moaning _her _name…

_FUCK…Tara…_

And then he'd be coming.

...He _was _coming.

Jax's eyes flew open as the last wave shook through his body. Sarah was looking up at him.

And she looked _pissed._

"Hey, Teller," Sarah hissed, glaring at him as she slid the back of her hand across her mouth. "A little word of advice. When a girl is nice enough to put your cock in her mouth the least you could do is remember her name. And in case my _mind-blowing _skills short-circuited that tiny brain of yours, my name is _Sar-Ah. _Not, _Tara._" As Sarah climbed back over to the driver's side, Jax was sure he heard her mumble, "_asshole._"

Jax had a delayed reaction. "I _said _Sarah," Jax commented, as he pulled his jeans back up. He placed his hand on her leg, rubbing up and down her thigh from under her mini-skirt. "Come on, Darlin," Jax crooned. "How the hell could I forget _your_ name? Tonight's not the first time you heard me shout it out." Jax winked at her.

Opie would have liked to have a front row seat to witness _this_ shit.

Hell, any teenage boy in Charming would love to capture this moment.

For the first time in the history—that didn't include stubborn green-eyed brunettes—the _Teller Charm _was a FLOP.

Sarah looked angrier than she was ten seconds ago. And even worse something very familiar to Jax gleamed in her eyes—_Spite. _Sarah Hale was like a fuckin rattlesnake when you crossed her.

"Did you ever tell her?" Sarah cocked an angry eyebrow.

_Jesus fuckin Christ. I know that _look._ It's the one you always have when you're looking to stir up some shit._

_SHIT._

"Tell _who, what_?" Jax feigned. He knew exactly what she was getting at.

It was no wonder Tara and Sarah were best friends for so long. They had a lot in common—they both had that rare ability to make Jax want to strike a female.

This one in particular was _really _asking for it if she even _thought _about going down that road with Tara.

"_Tara_, Jax," Sarah threatened. "Did you tell her the truth about her father?"

"No. I _didn't_. And you shouldn't either." Did he sound desperate? Why the hell did he let the worry seep into his voice?

Fuckin rattlesnake.

"Why not, Jax?" Sarah taunted. "You afraid it'll break her heart?"

He knew he would sound _just _like his mother if he said it. But damn it, if that wasn't the God's honest truth.

"Don't tell her Sarah. _I'm serious._"

"You're right, Jackson," Sarah purred, climbing back into his lap. "I've been gone a while… and I think that's why you forgot who you're dealing with. That Prince Charming bullshit only gets you so far with _me._"

"_Sarah_," Jax tried to warn, but all she did was smile at him.

"Fine, Jax," she acquiesced. "I'll keep quiet….but what's in it for me?"

"You mean other than your _best friend's _happiness?"

"You seem to be keeping her happy enough on your own," Sarah accused. "I've heard a few things…"

_Fuckin HALES_. They were nothing but grief. Every single one of them.

"What do you want, Sarah?"

Sarah laughed, leaning down to press her lips against his ear. "I _love it _when a guy asks me that."

* * *

**|REVIEW|**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Charming HS Front steps: The Jackson Teller experience.

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

Today was a day when Jackson Teller's best friend was _really _going to regret forgetting to take his phone off silent.

Opie hadn't answered his cell when Jax tried to call him that morning before school. And by the time Sarah finished getting "first day at school" ready he'd already missed the chance to catch him at his house before he left to pick up Donna.

Jax never did make it home.

It was a stroke of luck that all of the guys were already passed out when he showed up at the Club House with Sarah trailing behind him. The only person still awake was the prospect—and Kyle knew better than to run his mouth.

Sarah barely let him get any sleep—the _one_ time in his life when he would have preferred taking a nap over her whole hardcore porn star routine. There were moments when Jax _seriously_ contemplated telling Sarah to skip Charming High altogether and go apply for a job with his mother's friend, Luann's studio.

Jackson Teller was frustrated.

Frustrated in _every _way possible_. _He tried to pin point what the root of it was.

His Old man?

Gemma?

The former and the latter were enough to stress _anybody_ out, especially a teenage boy caught in the middle. Jax _wished_ it was his parents that had his brain scrambled, fried and refried.

Trouble with the 'rents was an easy fix—Weed, Tequila, &amp; permanent residency on Piney Winston's couch.

Hell, he'd even take Sarah as the culprit behind his increasingly bad mood. But she was just the icing on a three layered cake.

Jax knew _exactly _why he was sulking. Pathetic as he felt, he couldn't deny that it had everything to do with Tara.

Is _this _what it meant to obsess over someone only once you know you _can't _have them?

Ever since he'd agreed—NO, ever since Tara _made _him agree to be friends and nothing else _all _he could think about was being more.

All he could think about was kissing her, playing in her hair…making those gorgeous green eyes light up when he joked with her, made fun of her.

And this _b_oy_friend _of hers.

He couldn't stop wondering who it was, how long he'd been with her.

What _the hell_ had he opened up about?

It must have been serious for Tara to react the way she did.

Did he tell her he loved her? Did Tara love _him_?

Sarah had been right about one thing. His brain was definitely suffering one hell of a short-circuit. But it had _nothing_ to do with a blowjob.

It had _everything _to do with Tara Knowles.

Tara was what he was thinking about when they pulled into the student parking lot. She was on his mind when he absently felt Sarah slide her hands into his when they were walking towards the main building.

Tara was who he saw first when they approached the top of the school steps.

And he hated _himself _when the mere sight of her improved his mood exponentially.

"I'm _serious_, Donna. It's not _all _employees. Just _me._ This chick goes out of her way to—"

Tara stopped talking mid-sentence.

Jax saw the exact moment her eyes zeroed in on Sarah's hands joined with his own. Hell, they realized at the same time. Jax hadn't even been paying attention when she grabbed his hand.

When Tara looked up at him her eyes were blank. He couldn't get a read on what was going through her head.

Was she surprised? Jealous maybe?

_Jesus Christ_.

He was turning into his mother with all the damn questions.

There was one thing he didn't have to wonder about though.

_Opie._

His best friend was looking up at Sarah like he was seeing a ghost.

_You really should learn to answer your goddamn phone, man._

_I _tried _to give you a heads up._

When Jax's eyes traveled over to Donna, the pint-sized, raven-haired girl was staring at Opie's face. Whatever she saw in his expression made her gaze flash up in Sarah's direction, her bright eyes narrowing.

_Oh, hell no, _Jax thought_. Brotha, I _know_ you are not _that _stupid to tell your girlfriend about—_

_"_Hey, Lady Tee!"

Sarah plopped down next to Tara, yanking Jax along with her.

Donna snorted. Jax heard her whisper to Opie, "Lady Tee? _Really?_"

"Hey, 'Rah." Tara's eyes drifted towards the bottom of the steps.

Was she avoiding looking at them? Or was she _looking _for someone?

Jax followed her eyes and saw no one in particuar.

"Hey, _Track star_," Jax said leaning to look around Sarah.

Tara smiled over at him even as she rolled her eyes. "Hey, jerk."

"You're on the track team?" Sarah asked, her nose wrinkling.

Tara, Jax, Opie _and _Donna burst out laughing at the same time.

"No," Tara said, giggling. "It's just a nickname. A very _annoying _one_._"

Tara narrowed her eyes at Jax, her mouth twitching at the corners.

"Yeah," Donna agreed, cutting in. "Kind of like _Lady Tee_ only it doesn't make you sound like a character from a Shakespeare play."

Sarah cocked her head to the side, peering over at Donna. "You're Donna, Harry's _new _girlfriend right?"

Donna stopped laughing. "We've been together eight months"—Donna glared when Sarah wolf-whistled—"….I'm guessing you're Sarah, the…."

Opie looked over at Jax—his eyes said it _all_.

Jax shrugged his shoulders. _This shit ain't on _me. _I _called_ you, bro._

"I'm Harry's _friend_… it's way too weird to say _old_. We never really stopped being friends right, _Harry_?"

Jax eyes found their way back to Tara's face—her green eyes were wide.

Jax briefly wondered how close Opie and Tara really were…and if she knew what a landmine his friend was walking through right now.

It would have been funny to Jax if he wasn't in the same boat.

Okay, it was _still _funny.

Sarah was good at many things—top of the list was giving head and causing trouble.

The troublemaking talent was her _specialty_.

"You've been gone a long time. He goes by _Opie_," Donna corrected. Jax never saw Opie snatch his girlfriend's hand up so fast in his life. He brought it to his mouth, kissing the back of it—almost dropping the lit cigarette in his other hand in the process.

_Good for you, Ope. Don't let the rattlesnake fuck with you and yours._

"I _always_ called him, Harry," Sarah countered. "Although to be fair I guess I see your point…I was the only one he would let get away with it."

Donna's giggle sounded like more of a bark. "_Great_, another attention whore."

_Aw, SHIT._

Opie's lungs were suddenly _new _to the whole cigarette thing—he started coughing to clear the smoke in his lungs.

Donna steeled her eyes on Jax. "When are you gonna get it _right?_" Donna's eyes bounced over to Tara, who was taking entirely too long to check the time on her _digital _watch.

"I'm sensing a little hostility…" Sarah's voice was saccharine, sickly sweet. It made Jax's tooth ache. "I'm guessing _Opie _told you…that's so _sweet_. He tells you everything…"

_Not sweet, bro. Stupid as HELL._

"…You have _nothing _to worry about, Donna." Sarah smiled like the church-girl she _wasn't. _"Ancient history…all _firsts _are…well _my _firsts anyway."

**B_RNNNGG!_**

Saved by the fuckin bell.

Sarah was saved from the facial reconstruction she was seconds away from getting _pro-bono_, courtesy of Dr. Donna—I'll-smack-a-bitch—Lewis.

Opie was saved from having Sarah pointing out how red his face suddenly was—and the bitch _loved _to point shit out.

Tara was saved from Donna's inability to _stop _playing matchmaker.

And Jax was saved from getting punched in the face by his best friend for laughing his ass off at his predicament.

Opie stood up fast, pulling his angry girlfriend with him. He never let her hand go—and it was probably better for Sarah that he didn't.

Jax had been a witness to Donna's right hook that one time Emily Duncan thought it was a good idea to sit on Opie's lap.

"Come on, baby," Opie said. "...let me walk you to class."

Tara stood up next. "Yeah I should probably head in, too."

Opie and Donna walked off, Tara right on their heels.

"_Tara_," Jax called out.

He wasn't used to her sticking around once she made up her mind to take off in the opposite direction somewhere. So when she spun back around to face him—well _them_—he had to quickly think of something to say.

"Did you finish _Hamlet _yet?" Jax blurted out. "I can't find the copy my Old man bought me. I wanted to read it again. We're covering it in my English class this semester."

Tara smile was wide, her eyes doing that sparkling thing in the sunlight. He wanted to bask in the full effect of it a little longer. He wanted her to stand there looking at _him—_not somewhere else, a little longer.

"_Almost_," Tara responded. "When I'm finished I'll—"

"—_Ugh_." Sarah turned around to face him, her wild curls nearly whipping him in the face. "Don't tell me _Nerd-vana_ is rubbing off on you, too now."

_I'm the one that convinced her to give his writing a try in the _first _place. Real books, instead of that Matilda bullshit you two loved reading so damn much._

_And I KNEW it was your evil ass that came up with that nickname she hated so much in Junior High._

"I've _been _into Shakespeare, Darlin'," Jax said diplomatically. He wanted to push her down the stairs and watch her tumble— a honey blonde tumbleweed sounded perfect.

Instead he winked up at Tara.

When Tara snickered, Jax had a feeling they were thinking the same thing.

"Well, you would think with all the Shakespeare you'd learn a thing or two about _romance_," Sarah teased, wriggling her eyebrows. "But that's okay, _Prince Charming_. I'll teach you to live up to your name, yet." Sarah pulled him by the collar of his shirt, crushing her lips to his.

When she _finally_ pulled away, Jax looked up to see the front entrance door already swinging shut behind Tara's retreating back.

She'd stormed off. He knew it even if he hadn't seen it. He knew Tara's angry sprint by now—it was the story of his life.

_No more running. _

_No more getting jealous. _

_Just friends._

_If _I'm _the Outlaw, why can't _you _stick to your own goddamn rules?_

_…Or am I just seeing what I _want_ to see?_

Jax was sick of the interrogation going on his head.

Him and Tara were going to have work out the kinks in this whole _friendship _thing.

_I've officially lost my goddamn mind_, Jax thought.

He must _have. _What teenager in their _right_ mind looks forward to _detention?_


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **Enjoy. Let me know your thoughts on it.

**_-_**_ **V**eritable **O**ld **L**ady **C**row_

* * *

Tara Knowles had a _question._

It was a question that had been running through her mind ever since she sat down in her second period English class.

Well, _not exactly. _

If one wanted to be _technical _the question didn't occur to Tara until _Donna Lewis _plopped down at the desk next to hers.

Donna hadn't even pulled the strap of her messenger bag off her shoulder good before she was staring Tara down, a look of reluctant curiosity in her gray-blue eyes.

Tara could feel Donna's eyes drilling a hole into the side of her face. When she finally gave in, glancing over in her direction, Donna wasted no time blurting out, "_So I want to ask you something about Opie."_

Donna said _Opie_.

But all Tara heard was _Sarah._

"What about him?" Tara asked, looking over towards the classroom door.

_Where the hell is Mrs. Braithwaite?_

That lady was never late to class.

Donna was silent just a little too long. Tara looked back over towards her.

She regretted it immediately.

"How serious were things with Opie…and _her_?"

Right about now, Tara really wished she could afford a private tutor. This high school shit was _so _not worth the stress.

Sighing she offered Donna an apologetic smile. "Opie tells you everything. I think you _know _how serious they were…"

"I thought I did," Donna complained. "But that b—your _best friend _made it sound like it was more than just sex…like a _real _first _everything_…like they were in love or something…"

"I keep forgetting you're not originally from here." Tara sighed. "_Look. _We were _all_ close when we were younger. Sarah and Opie were like me and Jax. It was just a childhood sweetheart kind of thing. Stickers and candy hearts. We grew out of it a long time ago."

Tara's eyes snapped from a spot on the blank, green chalkboard to Donna's face when she heard her groan.

"_What?_"

Donna shook her head. "If her and Ope are anything like _you and Jax _I have a really big problem."

Tara rolled her eyes. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It _means_ you two—"

"—you and Jax is the _worst _example you could have used to make her feel better," Wendy said from the side of Tara's desk.

Donna glared up at her. "Why is it that every time you're around I find myself sounding like a broken record? Once again, _who the fuck asked you_?"

"I guess my charm hasn't warmed you up to me yet," Wendy joked, sitting on top of Tara's desk. "So…you want to know the _real deal_ between Opie and Princess Hale?" Wendy laughed when Donna's eyes narrowed to slits. "_Hey, _no need to get hostile with _me _Tinkerbelle. I'm just the messenger…or at least I _could be_ if you ask me nicely."

And there was the question again.

_Where in the mother-loving hell is Mrs. Braithwaite?_

"She didn't ask _you_," Tara cut in. "She asked _me._ Get the hell off my desk."

_Before I shove your ass off._

Wendy snickered. "_Right_. Because _you're _gonna tell her the truth. You can't even be honest with yourself about your _own _fucked up love triangle. How's _David_ by the way?" Tara gasped. "You should be nicer to me, Tara. I like to push people's buttons…but I've been really nice about not pushing yours. Like Jax for instance…I wonder how he'd feel about you dating the one guy he can't stand. _Friendships _have ended for less…"

Tara's eyes blazed. "Listen you little—"

"—_Ah, ah, ah_…" Wendy shook a freshly manicured finger in her face. "Don't get your panties in a bunch. I could have told him _months _ago…I just thought it would be more entertaining to watch it all _unfold." _Wendy shrugged. "I guess you can thank my junkie mom for my increasing boredom. All the money she could use to pay the cable bill goes into her arm. So I have to find other ways to _amuse_ myself."

"What do you want, Wendy?" Tara dared to ask.

"_I wanna hang out_." Wendy slid off Tara's desk. Sitting backwards on the chair directly in front of it, the chair screeched against the floor as she scooched closer. "Jax is fun and all...but he's not really one for having long conversations. But you already know that, don't you? Or at least you would if you weren't such a _roadrunner_."

_Great._

_Another corny ass joke about me running. They must be _running _out of them by now._

Tara cocked an eyebrow. "What about _Ima_?"

Wendy scoffed. "That bitch _shits _glitter. There's only so many times I can talk about my hair and how great my ass looks in my Levi's…and _honestly_, Do I _really_ need to talk about it? I think my ass speaks for itself."

Donna cleared her throat. "Can we get back to _me_?"

"_Sure_," Tara and Wendy answered at the same time.

"You want the long version or the short version?"

"_Wendy_—"

Donna held up a hand to Tara. It was the shock of it that made Tara pause.

_Damn. Tinkerbelle must be tweaking the hell out._

"The _long_ version," Donna demanded.

Wendy nodded, tapping a _glitter-fied _fingernail against her chin. "Hmmm…_Let's see_….Okay, so Opie loved _Sarah_ but Sarah loved _Jackson_…Opie doesn't _realize_ that Sarah loves Jackson. _Sarah_ realizes Opie loves Sarah. Sarah's too _stupid_ to realize that Jackson loves"—Wendy paused, looking pointedly at the fidgeting brunette in front of her.

Tara averted her gaze to stare at the open classroom door again.

_Where the FUCK is Mrs. Braithwaite?_

"And?" Donna prompted, her arms folded across her chest.

"…Sarah tries to make Jackson _jealous_ by fooling around with his best friend—_who, wouldn't you know it—_happens to be _Opie…_ Opie finds out it was all a _game _to her…Opie's heart gets crushed. Jackson finds out _he_ helped crush his best pal Opie's heart. Then he finds out Sarah _knew_ what she was doing the whole time. Jackson decides to chew her out about it—_throws her a couple _bitch's_ and _whore's_…words like _rancid_…basically the standard _Jackson Teller_ tell-off—oh but _THEN! Big brother_ David_ overhears the whole thing. Big brother David decides to defend Princess Sarah's honor"—Wendy held both of her arms up on either side of her face, flexing them like a body builder—"…Jackson goes all _HULK ANGGG-GREE! _on his ass—_probably because he couldn't do it to Sarah…you _know…_'cuz she's a _girl_—_and then Prince _I'm-only-Charming-until-I-beat-the-shit-outta-you_ gets arrested…but _Unser _lets him off the hook—_naturally—_and now Judge Hale is on the warpath because his son has a broken nose and a swollen jaw with no legal justice served—_which if you ask _me _was more him being upset about the whole my daughter is a trouble making slut and my son got his ass kicked in front of half the County of it all, but that's just _my _opinion_—any-wayyy…Gemma Teller's all _Atta boy, Jax! _The Club is all way to go _Jackie, boy! _And Opie's all _It was _just_ pussy. We're all good, bro._ And Jackson agrees even though he knows its bullshit—_because you can't bullshit a _certified bullshitter_, right Tara?"_

_Mrs. Braithwaite…Where are you? _

_My _continued_ lack of criminal record is _dependent _upon you showing up RIGHT FUCKIN NOW._

"So Opie was in love with her?" Donna's voice was doing that cracking thing—that thing voices usually did when a person was fighting tears.

The click-clack of heels sounded at the front of the classroom.

_You're not Mrs. Braithwaite…_

"Apologies for my tardiness," the older woman said. "I will be your substitute this morning…and probably for the remainder of this week…Now I went over your syllabus on my way up here. _Please_ take out your copies of _A Streetcar named Desire_ now."

…_but I am not complaining. _

_I _accept _this._

Tara yanked her bag open, pulling the book from inside of it.

Donna couldn't fault _her_ for tuning them out.

She was the _know-it-all, Nerd-vana, _all that good shit. Ignoring them had _nothing_ to do with the sudden change in direction of the conversation.

It hadn't nothing to do with the fact that Wendy saying Jax was in love with her—which she _knew _was total bullshit—made her heart skip a beat, then grow three sizes like that ugly green thing that stole Christmas from the Who's.

Nope.

Jackson Teller was a _flirt—_a flirt who also happened to be Sex on legs. No one could blame her at all for _flirting back _on occasion. (Well David could, but that was a whole other ball game.)

It was basic chemistry 101—she couldn't control it.

None of that dangerous _love _shit was happening though—not _ever._

When Tara opened her English notebook, when she got _really _engrossed with writing her name and the date at the top of the page in perfect cursive it had nothing to do her not wanting to do what Opie suggested, and _pick a side _where the two teenage boys tugging at her heart were concerned.

Her sitting bone-straight in her desk-chair, eyes glued to the chalkboard, waiting for the notes wasn't her way of avoiding, or deflecting—or _running_.

Tara was just _really fuckin _eager to learn!

"In love… in _lust._" Wendy shrugged, seemingly oblivious to the shit-storm she just caused. "We're teenagers for Christ's sake. Isn't it the same damn thing?"

"No," Donna snapped. "It's _not._"

Wendy smacked her lips, nodding once. "O-kaay…you remember what I said about not shooting the messenger, right?"

Donna turned her glare towards Tara. "You better talk to _your_ friend, Tara. Introduce her to _Emily Duncan_ while you're at it. I'm not about to let her screw with his head again just because she can."

"It's not like that," Tara argued. It sounded weak to even her own ears. "That was Junior High School. It's in the past. _Trust me._"

Donna snorted. "Like you and Jax are in the _past_? You good with her rubbing up on _him_?"

"What does he have to do with anything? And no I _don't _care."

_Liar, _said a voice in her head.

"That didn't bother you seeing them together like that?" Donna challenged.

_When did this become about me?_

_And I'm pretty sure that whole Sarah-Jackson PDA display was for Opie's benefit…._

_SHIT._

_Damn it, Sarah._

_Now _I _feel shitty._

"I'll talk to her," Tara promised.

"You _better._"

"So," Wendy interrupted. "Is this what you two do? Talk about guys all the time? High school boys are played out ladies. Wait 'til I tell you about Jacob _Junior... Oooh _or Kyle Hobart…."

_Yuck._

When Tara's cell phone vibrated, she crossed her fingers that whoever was calling had a way of saving her from this _new _topic.

Tucking the phone between her hand and ear, she leaned down, her hair falling over it. "Hello?" she whispered, watching as the substitute teacher wrote her name across the chalkboard.

_"Hey, baby, it's me….ask for a hall pass and come outside…I want to show you something..."_

Her boyfriend—whose name was David _not _Jackson—would do just fine.

* * *

"Do you like it?"

Tara gave it a full circle once over before looking up at David. "It's very _shiny_."

David chuckled. "Custom paint job…I picked the color out and everything… the judge says he's not getting me shit for Christmas now…" David ran his hands along the hood of the car. "…and I _really_ don't give a shit."

Tara found herself giggling, even as her eyes rolled to the sky.

What was it with boys and their obsession with cars?

Placing a hand on her hips she asked, "You couldn't wait until after school to show me your new _baby_?"

David brushed her long hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. "I'm not gonna lie…that's not the only reason I asked you to come out here."

"No?"

David shook his head. Tara wasn't used to seeing mischief in his eyes. He grabbed her by her waist, pulling her forward as he backed up against his shiny new car. "I already gave it a test drive before I pulled off the lot…" David kissed along her jaw. Tara cocked an eyebrow—smiling as she wrapped her arms around his neck when he leaned down to kiss her. Tara grazed his bottom lip with her teeth when he pulled his lips away from hers.

"…and everything was _perfect_," David continued. Tara's answering "_mmhm?_" was a moan against his mouth, as his fingers crept their way up her shirt, to the small of her back, pulling her tightly against him.

David's lips found their way back to her jaw, working their towards her ear, where he whispered, "I was hoping you could help me test out the _backseat_…"

Tara pulled back to look in his eyes, surprise widening her own.

Where was _this _David four months ago?

Oh, _right_…buried underneath a pile of guilt.

Tara bit her bottom lip, smiling at him brazenly. She slid her hands deep down the front pockets of his jeans, Tara giggled when she heard David's breathing hitch. She took her time—which was agonizingly slow—wrapping her fingers around what she was _really _after. David finally exhaled when she pulled her hands out. Twirling the car keys around in one of them, she clicked the button and the car locks popped up. Tara reached around him pulling the back passenger door open, bumping it against his back.

Taking her cue, David stepped aside. His hazel eyes darkened as he watched her slide backwards into the backseat. She crooked her finger at him, giggling when he launched himself inside the car, the door slamming shut behind him. He had her legs around his waist in three-seconds flat, Tara's back bumping against the window as he nudged her face aside, his lips kissing a deliciously-bruising trail along her throat. When Tara reached underneath his shirt to scale her nails along his rock-hard abs, he pulled away. He left her no moment to contemplate why. Just as soon his back rested against the chair, he reached for her, guiding her into his lap. When Tara pressed down against him, his fingers dug into her sides.

The way she rocked against him was _too distracting_.

And to David, loosening all the buttons of her blouse was worth his _undivided attention_.

So did her tugging down the straps her of bra.

And committing it to memory when the first moan escaped past her mouth as his lips closed around her nipple.

Nothing else mattered.

Not the fact that they were in the middle of the school parking lot.

Not the fact that his Coach was most _definitely _going to bench him for cutting his gym class.

Not even the fact that Jacob Junior had pulled up four parking spaces away—or that he recognized his younger brother's shiny new car.

Nothing else mattered at all.

Not until they heard his knuckles wrapping against the window, anyway.

* * *

_Tap, Tap, Tap!_

There was no delayed reaction for Tara this time around. She yanked her blouse closed so fast she nearly jammed her finger against the fabric.

Tara swerved off David's lap to the other side of the car, her eyes darting from left to right like she was watching a tennis match.

She was in a parking lot—again.

In broad daylight—again.

And she couldn't help but wonder if it would be better for her reputation to date a vampire instead. Vamps had lairs and didn't fare well in the sun.

She could use a guy like that.

Someone who wouldn't entice her to do naughty things in public places….like on top of cafeteria tables.

_Where the hell did that come from? _

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

Tara had no time to ponder. Her mind flipped to thinking of all the ways she could kill her boyfriend when he thought it was a good idea to roll his window down.

Opting to wait until there were no witnesses, she turned her body all the way towards the window, her dark hair falling over her face.

Jacob Hale Jr.

He fanned his hand, dramatically outside the window as if that would somehow get rid of all the steam clouding the glass.

"Don't tell me my little brother the choir boy is lighting one up on school grounds," Jacob joked. "You forget how to answer your phone? Dad wanted _me _to take Sarah and some of her friends to the mall in Lodi after school…but _I _have plans. So I'm delegating to you. I'll owe you one. What do you say?"

Tara heard David clear his throat. "Can we talk about this later?"

_No, idiot. Don't try to evade, just agree so he'll keep it moving._

"I'm headed to Tijuana now. I got a surprise for the Golden child. I convinced mom and dad to take that trip to Telluride they've been putting off. This Saturday is officially _Welcome back, Sarah_ Day! I already booked a DJ. And I even"—When Jacob stopped talking midsentence she _knew. _

"Fine," David agreed. "I'll do it. Now go away."

"Is that…is that _Tara_?"

_Oh well._

"Hey, _Sir-mix-alot_," Tara said turning to face him.

Jake smiled over at her. "_Little Orphan Tara…_how's life? What you doing in my brother's new wheels? I know he's desperate to show it off but…"

Tara followed Jacob's eyes all the way down to her blouse—where all the buttons were either loose or in the wrong hole.

"_Holy shit."_ Jacob eyes widened. Turning to his brother he said, "Are you kidding me, Davey?"

"It's none of your damn business, Jake," David barked.

The shock on Jacob's faced crumbled.

Then abruptly he burst out laughing—head tilted back, he even had the nerve to slap his knee as he chuckled.

"This is _why_?" Jacob Jr. goaded. "You crushed mom's dream of finally having a _daughter_ because you wanted to screw her? _Oh you just wait until she finds out why you didn't want her to—_you know what? I'm not even going to tell her. That'll just give Sarah a headache when Miss Gin and Tonic starts going on and on about how she wishes Sarah was more _this _and she wishes Sarah would do _that. _That'll just piss off the princess and when she's pissed its hell for _everyone… _including me. _Nope,_ I'm not telling her a damn thing. But it is O_-fish-yall, _you hearing me little bro? _I own your ass._ I'm done catering to Sarah. You're on your own and if you're smart you'll grin and bear it."

Jacob raised a hand, wriggling his fingers at Tara. "Later, Miss _O_." Then he walked away—swaggered away is more like it—the whole time mumbling to himself, "I am _so _off the hook for knocking that Carlie bitch up!"

* * *

The silence in the car was deafening.

Tara couldn't stand it any longer.

"I thought your mom wasn't upset anymore," Tara commented quietly. "Sarah said—"

David whipped around, his eyes hard. "—do you really think Sara would admit to anything that made _her _look inferior to anybody?" David scoffed, though it was more to himself. "…like my sister would _ever_ admit her mother loved her best friend more than her own daughter."

Tara wrinkled her nose. "You sound ridiculous, David. Even for you."

"You think Its bullshit?" David challenged. "Why do you think Sarah's so jealous of you?"

Nervous laughter ripped through her before Tara could stop it. "_David_—"

"—I'm _not_ saying my mom doesn't love her…that's not what I _mean…_ Of course she loves her. Every parent loves their child in their own way. But Sarah's always been _daddy's_ little girl...and you were like…_I don't know_…you liked _art_…and _cooking_, and you loved listening to her stories about her years as an _intern_ at Charming Med before it was _St. Thomas_… you were always asking her questions…_Hell_, Tara… you let her go dress-shopping with you…you helped her plan all her events like you were her little _girl Friday _or something…she didn't have to drag _you_ kicking and screaming to church with her on Sunday, or afternoon brunch afterterwards.." David looked up from the folded hands in his lap to give Tara a sad smile. "You were like her substitute for all the things Sarah _isn't_…deep down I _know_ Sarah hated that her own mother felt like she needed a replacement. And even worse it was her best friend and she loved you, too. Do you know what it feels like to love someone even when you resent them?"

_Of course I do. I still love my dad. I _hate_ him but I love him._

"I miss her," Tara admitted.

_But your mother could never replace _my _mother._

"She misses you, too." David reached for her hand, lacing her fingers in between his. "She wanted to take you on as her own…she fell in love with you...and I can't even blame her…falling for you…it's _inevitable."_

Tara slid closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. His breath tickled her knuckles as he kissed the back of her hand. Leaning back to look up at him she said, "I should go see her sometime."

David's body went rigid underneath her, making her pull away and turn her all the way around to face him. "What is it _now_?"

David looked through the window behind her. "When I told them I was against the adoption my mother asked me _why_…and I couldn't tell her the truth so I told her—"

Tara placed her arm on his shoulder, shaking her head twice. "Whatever it was, I don't want to know because it doesn't matter…it's in the _past_."

_Just like everything with your father—it's all in the past…_

"David…" The alarm in his eyes had increased instead of diminished. Reaching up, placing her hand on his cheek she said, "I'm not angry with you. I'm glad you told—"

"—you don't get it, Tara… you're not the one I'm worried about...I don't think she'll understand why I'm with you if...if..."

Suddenly Tara felt cold all over, even sucking the warmth from her voice. Steeling her eyes against the pained expression staring her in the face, she asked a question she knew she'd didn't really want the answer to.

Tara knew without a doubt that David had gotten real creative with the lie he told his mother.

She _knew _it was something hard to take back.

And for all her life was worth she _couldn't_ shake the feeling that David's _fiction_ had become a reality—only it was one more _twisted_ than anything a teenage boy could dream up.

Especially when it involved the man he looked up to his entire life.

"_What the hell did you tell her?_" Tara forced out.

**B_RNNNNG_!**

The signal to the end of second period rang out in the distance.

The lot would be filling up soon.

Repeat-seniors with only one or two credits to make up rushing out of the building to get to their nine-to-five jobs. 11th and 12th graders headed out to take in the late morning sun up on the bleachers by the football field during their early lunch period. Freshmen cutting it close, showing up just as third period started.

Saved by the bell—again.

But who was it saving this time?

The boy who was afraid to tell the truth? Or the girl that was terrified to hear it?

* * *

Tara was in full on zombie mode as she walked through the third floor hallway. Fellow students zoomed by one direction or the other, a white-noise blur of faces and voices—not a single one in focus.

David Hale gave the term _melodramatic_ a whole new meaning. The lie he told wasn't even something to sneeze at.

But now she couldn't stop thinking about the lies _she_ told.

The truth she'd buried for so long—the truth that was prodding against the surface, trying to break through—trying to break _her. _

She wouldn't let it. She beat it down once—she could do it again.

She just had to remember what got her through it the first time—_Who_ got her through it.

"Cutting it close today, Ms. Knowles," Mr. Whitman noted as she walked into the classroom.

Tara pretended she didn't hear him as she sat down at her desk.

Tara knew _exactly _who got her through it—and the bitch of it was he wasn't even trying to get her through _anything_. He didn't know.

No one did.

But _he _got her through it.

Being around him made her feel safe—it made her feel wanted without strings…without conditions…without _threats._

"_Pssst! _Track star! Any chance I could copy your homework?"

Tara could hear the smile in Jackson Teller's voice.

She couldn't look at him right now.

He would _see _it.

And Opie wasn't around to run interference for all the things she was feeling about his best friend right now.

* * *

Mr. Whitman was a student-screwing pervert, no question.

But he was damn good math teacher and Tara wasn't ready to write him off completely. Half way out of his classroom door, she finally caved. Swallowing every last ounce of pride she had, Tara begged her teacher to postpone her last day of detention.

And he actually let her off the hook.

No make-up day—just a stern warning to learn to control her temper.

Arthur was working nights now. He was probably at home, lounging on the couch—a bottle of bourbon in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other.

Tara didn't want to go home, and she was off the schedule at work today.

Being alone meant thinking about Judge Jacob Hale.

It meant obsessing over Jax, wondering how long she could keep sending him mixed signals before he walked away from her for good.

It meant beating herself up about the fact, that _once again _she didn't want him—she _needed _him. And Opie had his own shit now, so he couldn't even fulfill his role as a poor substitute.

She couldn't make up her mind about _anything._

The only thing that made sense was David—she knew where she stood with him. She knew _he _loved her. She just had to believe that wouldn't change no matter what.

"_Hey, Tee."_ Tara spun around at the sound of Sarah's voice. "You hear to try out?"

When Tara cocked an eyebrow, Sarah waved a hand behind her.

In the middle of the bleachers, huddled together was most of the cheerleading team.

"No," Tara answered quickly. "I was actually—"

"—looking for David?" Sarah nodded towards the other side of the field. "He's over there."

Tara followed her gaze. On the ground, practically in between her legs, David was pushing Maize O'Keefe's leg forward, high above her head.

"Relax, Tee," Sarah said. Tara immediately recognized her _the-truth-is-the-opposite-of-what-I'm-saying _voice. "He's just helping her stretch. The guys from the team do it for the squad all the time."

_And you know this because you've been back for five minutes._

"It's fine." Tara was surprised she managed to keep the annoyance out of her voice. Where was this bitch when he wanted to show off his fancy new backseat? "I was actually taking my shortcut through the fence. Mr. Whitman let me off the hook for my last day of detention so I'm on my way home."

"What'd you do to get detention anyway?" _Not a damn thing._

"It was Jax's fault actually."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Aren't you bored with blaming him for everything, yet?"

Tara shook her head. "It really was _his _fault. It's okay though. He ended up getting in trouble, too."

"_Funny_, there's a rumor going around that you two had sex in the cafeteria the other day…"

Tara wasn't touching _that_ one so she switched gears. "Listen, Sarah," Tara started. "Donna's a little testy with people she doesn't know…but she's not a bad person. So take it easy on her, okay?"

Sarah tilted her head forward, looking up at Tara through batting lashes. "I don''t know what you mean, Lady Tee."

_Enough of _that _shit. _

_"_It's _Tara_," Tara snapped.

Sarah's cocked an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"My name is _Tara._ It stopped being Lady Tee when you stopped being Princess 'Rah…_when were eight_."

Sarah's eyes widened briefly. She recovered quickly though, with the same sardonic smile as before. "So _what,_ Jax is the only one that gets to keep his childhood nickname?"

"Prince Charming was never a nickname. It was an _insult_. He's the one that decided to embrace it."

"Right." Sarah chewed at her bottom lip the way she always did when she was in _deep thought._

"What is it this time, Sarah?" The old schoolyard mind games were getting old really fast.

"Have you talked to Jax lately?" Tara nodded, her shoulders shrugging at the same time. "He mention anything about your father?"

_Huh?_

"What about my father?"

"Oh." Sarah winced. "He still didn't tell you."

"Tell me _what?_"

"Nothing," Sarah answered quickly, waving her hand. "It's nothing…Forget it. You should really try out for the team….I heard Donna tried out but didn't make the cut…I'm surprised actually. She's such a bundle of _perky_."

Tara didn't smile. "Leave her alone, Sarah. I'm serious. Leave _them _alone."

_Or I'll hold Donna's purse while she gives you the nose job you've been begging for since you got back._

"What is she, your new BFF?"

Tara's cell phone rang. And she was happy for the distraction.

She wasn't happy to hear Karen Monroe's voice on the other end, however.

"I have to go," Tara announced, flipping the phone shut seconds later. "I just got called in to work so now I have to rush home to change. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Tara walked off without waiting for an answer.

When she cut through the field, David looked up from his _personal training _session with Maize to gawk at her.

And Tara didn't slow her speed or miss a step.

Tara Knowles was _tapped_ out. She'd had enough drama for the day.

And she'd lied to Mr. Whitman, too—her temper wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

* * *

**|REVIEW|**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** Just a random not to all the Wendy Case haters. I **hated** her on the show, too. With a PASSION that would make me sound like a psycho if i attempted to explain it to you. That's why what's fun about fanfiction is that you can do what you want with the characters. She's not around as much after Tara &amp; Jax finally stop circling each other. But sheis relevant to my version of their teenage years.

Thank You for reading, guys.

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

Jax had been trying to get Tara's attention all period. He couldn't catch her eye when he first walked in. He tried talking to her, and she wouldn't even look in his direction.

She was completely spaced out.

Even worse, he couldn't even enjoy the view her V-neck blouse usually gave him _today_ because he'd spotted a hickey that wasn't on her collarbone _before _school started.

He knew her lunch wasn't until fifth period.

Was she cutting classes now, to hook up with her boyfriend?

He could practically feel the tension roiling off Tara's shoulders.

That shit just made him angrier. Not only was some clown hooking up with his…umm…_friend_.

The idiot wasn't even up to the damn task. That was _normally_ where Jackson Teller came in—but _this _lucky moron—whoever he was—had a girlfriend who wasn't up for a little fun on the side.

And even if she was, Jax really wasn't in the _sharing_ mood these days.

By the time the school bell signaled the end of third period math, Jax was convinced the girl sitting a row over from him suffered from some kind of multi-personality disorder. They were just fine on the school steps, and now Tara wouldn't even meet his eyes. It was just like before—he didn't exist.

It _couldn't _be about Sarah.

Tara set the terms herself—no more jealousy.

Besides, Jax knew Tara well enough to be able to tell when she was pissed _at_ him.

And this time it didn't feel like hostility.

Somehow he knew Tara ignoring him wasn't from a place of anger. She wasn't mad—not with him anyway. He knew _that _much.

But beyond that he had no clue what the problem was—what _her _problem was—and he still had four more classes to suffer through before he'd have her all to himself.

* * *

Tara wasn't in the cafeteria when he showed up.

_Wendy_ was—and as usual she made it her business to work her way under his skin.

Apparently that was just as much as fun as being under _him._

"Little word of advice," Wendy said, flipping a page over of the magazine in her hands. "If you're going to keep up this whole bullshit story about you and Tara being _just friends_ you might want to learn how to control your facial expressions."

Jax rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling. "_Great_. My father's a shrink. And now you read faces."

"You're face fell in faster than one of my mother's attempts at baking a cake. You're gonna tell me that has nothing to do with Miss Know-it-all being a no-show in detention today?"

"_You know where she is_?" Jax asked before he could help himself.

Wendy smirked. "I don't even_ have_ to badger you Jax. You make my point for me every time." Wendy looked back down at the magazine resting on top of her crossed legs. "Mr. Whitman let her off the hook. I saw her on my way to history last period. She looked _sick_. I bet Ole' Wit thinks the whole overachiever thing is finally getting to her. _I think _she was faking it—especially given the phone conversation I overheard when I walked in the locker room to change for gym earlier. Tara's a smart bitch _just like I said_. She has Mr. Whitman feeling _sorry_ for adding more pressure on her." Looking up at him Wendy's eyes flashed with humor. "Or _maybe_ little Tina the freshman isn't the _only_ student Mr. Whit is slipping it to."

"You're gonna want to be _real careful _about the shit you say about her," Jax growled. "That's how rumors get started….and people tend to get _hurt_ when that happens."

"Is that an order, _Sargent _Teller?" Wendy laughed. "Poor sucker…I hate seeing you off your game. You lost your mojo, Jax. Whatever happened to no one being immune to the _Teller Charm_? It seems like _you're _the one under some kind of spell."

"You're a real annoying bitch sometimes." Jax pulled the loose cigarette from behind his ear. He briefly scanned the room for teachers before he remembered that he really didn't give a shit.

"_Ouch_." Wendy awarded both his insult and the thinly veiled _threat_ he aimed towards her with mock-hurt. "And to _think_ I was going to do you a favor and tell you where to find her…"

"_Where is she_?"

Jax was _way_ past caring about how he looked, how he sounded.

_It's the Chase. It's _gotta _be the Chase. Me, wanting what I can't have._

_That's all it is._

_That's all it _can _be._

__Jax __knew what Tara was doing to him—or at the very least he knew whatever it was, was something unfamiliar, something he'd never experienced with any other girl.

But the fact that _everyone else _was picking up on it, too?

That was a tough pill to swallow.

He needed to figure this shit out and the only way he was going to do that was if he talked to the source of the..._whatever._

Tara Knowles was jamming him up—in more ways than one.

"Why don't you just ask _Opie_?" Wendy jeered.

Wendy wasn't even pretending to read the magazine anymore.

"I'm asking _you._"

"That's right, Jax. And now I'm asking _you_."

_What?_

"What the hell are you—"

"Tell me the _truth_," Wendy said simply. "Admit that you're _into _her and I'll tell you where she went."

_Jesus Christ. _"Aren't you and Gemma gossip buddies? I've already been through this shit with her. Me and Tara are _friends. _Nothing more."

_No matter what _I _want. _

_Not that I actually know what the hell it _is _I want._

Wendy's chuckle made Jax want to wring her neck. "_Fine, _Jax. _Whatever._ I don't even know why I bothered. She's at Lumpy's."

_HUH?_

"Lumpy's _gym_?"

The last time Jax had been there _was_ with Tara. He used to spar with her in the ring, then sit back and watch her kick all the other boys asses.

But that was years ago, before the Club started letting him and Opie use the boxing ring on the lot. Before they'd had their falling out and she stopped coming around.

Wendy rolled her eyes. "No, she's at his _house_...Didn't you hear? I'm not the only one with daddy issues. He's helping her work them out," she said, wriggling her eyebrows. Whatever she saw in Jax's eyes, sobered her playful mood instantly, because she quickly added, "I _overheard_ her phone call remember? She asked if she could come by his gym later. _Sheesh. _It's like no one can take a joke around here anymore."

Jax turned around, to walk out of the cafeteria without so much as a goodbye.

He had to find Tara—figure this shit out ASAP.

He didn't find what she was doing to him funny _at all._

His hand was reaching for the door when he heard Wendy say, "Jax, _wait." _

It was the lack of mirth in her tone that made him look back. "What?" he said, his voice only half as hard as it would have been.

"Remember when you said you and Ope would come over one day..._repaint _my bedroom for me._.._I need you to do it _today_."

_Aw, shit. _"Wendy," Jax said, blowing out a heavy breath. "You need to let me tell the Club—"

"I said _NO—"_

Jax's eyes blazed. "—that _asshole _shouldn't even be _in _Charming...let alone dealing to—"_  
_

"It's not about him.._or_ my mom," she argued, cutting him off again. "I just need you to—"

Jax held up a hand to her. "—Look, Darlin' as much I'd _love_ to be...I'm not a patched member yet. There's only so much _I_ can do. Sooner or later me being John Teller's son ain't gonna hold as much weight as you think. Especially now that he knows I'm not bringing it back to them. I _promise _it won't blow back on you or your mom...Just let me tell them...for _your own sake._ Not because I'm afraid to handle it on my own."

Wendy paused, looking down at her nails. When she looked back up at him, for a second Jax thought he'd finally gotten through to her. But then that same defiance glazed over her dark brown eyes, and she set her jaw. "You don't even have to paint. Just come keep company until—just for a little while, okay? You'll be back to trailing after _Tara_ in no time." Jax grimaced at the bite in her voice when she said Tara's name.

Wendy didn't _get_ jealous. They never had that kind of relationship. She hated feelings more than he did, so he knew that wasn't it.

_That asshole must have really scared you the last time he showed up._

"You promised me _that, _Jax. You said whenever I...look are you coming over or _not_?"

This was why Jax knew he could never be a superhero—chivalry was way too big of a pain in the ass.

"I said I _would_, didn't I? Call me if—_when_ you need me. _I got you._"

"Thanks," Wendy said, smiling as she began flipping through the magazine again. Without looking up, she waved him away. "That's all I wanted...Feel free to go find your _friend._"

Jax shook his head, grinning despite himself. "You're such a gash."

Wendy giggled. "Yeah, yeah, yeah...Just go get her, _Charming."_


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **Try not to _assume _anything. Just go with it. All will be revealed...eventually :)

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

_"I'm not risking my career just because you're a little cock tease," Jacob Hale yelled, tossing the gavel in his hand down on the dimly lit office's desk. He yanked the black robe on his back open, shrugging his shoulders out of it. "You're nothing but trouble. Just like those SAMCRO boys you're always running behind. I honestly don't know why my Sarah is even….."_

"Keep your guard up, _Tare'_! Lumpy says you gotta step in more when you go for the punch…like _that_…exactly. Okay one more time all the way through…"

Cross, double jab—they danced around the ring, her brown ponytail swinging left to right, hair sticking to her forehead, sweat bleeding through her tank top.

Tara had been going at it for the past hour. She didn't know where she found the energy. It had been years since she set foot in a gym that wasn't Charming High School's.

Maybe it was the pent up rage.

Maybe it was the pounding in her eardrums, the adrenaline surging through her veins every time her gloved-fists connected with the pads on Lowell Jr's hands.

Maybe she was holding out hope that if she swung just a little faster, or just a little bit harder, it would drown out the memories flooding her brain—the thoughts she wanted to go away—the thoughts she'd locked away for so long.

_"No. You're not going to tell anyone_ anything_," the Judge spat. "__… I saw it with my _own_ eyes...you're_ lying..._that _didn't_ happen_..._you're twisting shit around..._" _Jacob Hale slammed his fist against the desk. "Goddamn it! _I'm __done __discussing this..."__

"Okay, Tara. _Take it easy_." Lowell Jr.'s nervous laughter ripped through the air. It was almost distant, it didn't really register. Tara crossed again, landing a left-hook to the side of his head, narrowly missing his face as he bounded back out of reach.

She never stopped swinging.

_"…..And if I find out you're spreading lies again…I'll make sure you end up in a group home that makes that twelve-step deadbeat you call _daddy_ look like Father of the year in comparison." _

Lowell Jr. stopped moving, holding the pads in front of his face. Tara continued to lash out, ignoring every grunt that escaped him when each blow knocked the back of his hands against his poorly guarded face.

"Tara!"

_"…You still have to live in this town. You really want to go pointing fingers? Just take the money and let it go."_

"Hey, Tara," Lumpy's voice rang out in the distance. "How about you spare the boy a few of his brain cells? That's _enough._"

_"...You made the right choice, little girl." Tara watched as he walked towards the end table by the bookcase in the Hale Home's study. Jacob Hale sneered over at her, his eyes like ice as he poured scotch from the crystal tumbler in his hand. "...But I didn't ask you here to congratulate you on finally using your brain…..What you did—what you _tried _to do, that doesn't go unanswered. You could have cost me my career…and that was a _very _important relationship you ruined. You're gonna have to make it up to me…"_

"What the hell is he doing?" someone shouted.

"Letting a ninety pound girl beat the snot out of him," someone else answered, laughing.

Lowell wasn't _letting _Tara do anything.

His back was against the ropes. It was all he could do to hold off the undiluted rage lashing out at him. Through a tiny crack in between the pads, the lack of focus in her eyes—the faraway looked that glazed over the green made him sure that moving his hands even an inch would be a _very _bad idea.

_ "Gemma Teller…Sons of Anarchy's very own Matriarch. I _want _her. She's gonna pay for what happened to my daughter…"_

"_Alright,_ honey." Lumpy's voice had drawn closer. Tara jerked her shoulder back violently, shrugging off the hand that had gently pressed against it. "That's enough…_Tara_, stop it."

_"….None of the other kids are willing to talk…but _you _will, won't you Tara? ...For your sake I hope so because if you _don't_….my earlier threat still stands. I wonder if Jackson can convince his mother to take you in when your father loses his parental rights to the bourbon bottle that's always glued to his hand….and let's not even mention the _blow..._Drug addicts make the _worse_ parents…All it takes is a few ounces suddenly appearing in the glove compartment of his car…You think Jax could get his Old man to loan yours his lawyer?_"

Tara dropped her hands.

It was a brief moment of relief, when everyone in the room—including Lowell Jr.—thought that all their shouting for her to _STOP_ had finally gotten through to her.

But the second Lowell lowered the pads, Tara shoved against his shoulders. The gloves covering her hands were very likely the only reason they weren't wrapped around his neck.

Tara settled for punching him in his chest. Lowell slid down the ropes, to the floor, a wheeze escaping his throat just as Lumpy finally gave up on handling her with kid gloves and yanked her ass around, his hands digging into her shoulders as he shook her.

"Snap the hell out of it, kid!" Lumpy tapped an open palm across her face—it wasn't quite a slap, just a means of getting her attention. "_Jesus. _What the hell did LJ say to you?"

"Not a goddamn thing, Sir," Lowell choked out from behind her. "You _alright_, Tara?"

Tara blinked. And Lowell's words echoed in her head—it didn't just fly out of the other ear like before.

_You're seriously asking _me _if _I'm _alright after what I just did to you?_

She might have thought too many blows to the head had scrambled his brain, if not for the concerned look in Lowell Jr.'s eyes when she turned back to look at him.

Tara quickly averted his worried gaze, looking around her.

Everyone in the gym was staring at her like she'd grown two extra heads.

Suddenly, she felt naked.

"I'm fine," Tara mumbled.

"You _sure_?"

"_Positive_," Tara lied. "I gotta go. I was only supposed to stay an hour."

_That Karen bitch is going to be on my case if I show up for the shift—I shouldn't have in the _first _place—late._

Tara stalked off, ignoring the question in the eyes of the former boxing champ, turned gym owner. The whistle around Lumpy's neck swung up and back onto the middle of his chest as she breezed past him, avoiding his eyes.

Why the hell did she push so hard for David to open up to her?

All it did was dredge up old shit she didn't want to deal with.

_I guess this is what I get for being a hypocrite._

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Tara was rushing out of the locker room. She started towards the gym before she remembered how she'd embarrassed herself, spacing out in front of everyone. Deciding it would be best to avoid them altogether she switched gears and headed towards the back exit, gym bag in one hand, school bag tossed over her shoulder.

her cell phone rang. Karen's voice in her ear, twice in the same day was the perfect cherry on top of the spoiled sundae that was her day today.

When she hung up the phone-silencing the migraine-inducing red head's voice-she had at least one silver lining to cling to. Turns out Amber showed up for her shift after all. Tara didn't have to come in any more.

Karen knew she usually showed up to work early, so it would have been nice if she didn't wait until the _last minute_ to call her with the change of work schedule. But she'd caught her just in time, and being off the clock meant she could go home to a empty, stress-free house for a change.

She couldn't find fault in that.

Tara shoved the cell phone back down into the inside pocket of her bag. She was readjusting the strap across her chest when she felt a firm hand on her shoulder, followed by a hand curling around her face to cover her eyes.

By the time he said, "_Guess Who?," _Tara's elbow was already flying backwards. Her bag had already slid off her shoulders, falling to the ground, the contents spilling out onto the concrete. Reflexively she tossed her gym bag aside to free her hands.

When she spun around, it was the familiar ocean blue eyes locking with hers that halted both the _flight_ and the _fight _response drumming through her system.

It was the "_Jesus Christ," _and the familiar voice saying it, that stopped the anger at being surprised in its tracks.

It was the subtle awe and outright shock in his expression that momentarily rendered her speechless.

And it was the sight of Jackson Teller holding a hand over his face that had her _laughing_ through the embarrassment she felt at almost losing her shit yet again.


	15. Chapter 15

****A/N:**** Enjoy.

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

_"Hey, Jax!" _Lowell Jr. shouted out when he stepped in through the gym's front doors.

Jax paused, cocking his head to the side, blue eyes squinting at the angry knot forming above the lanky teenager's right eye.

_ "What's up, Teller?" _

Jax looked up to see a guy he recognized from the few times he bothered to show up to his History class. Jax held a hand up at him briefly, using the same one to tap the top of Lowell's head as he brushed past him.

"Hey, _LJ_." _Good to see you're still not giving up on boxing, despite the fact that you can't fight your way out of a paper bag._

_"_It's about time you showed your face in here again," another boy whose name Jax couldn't remember commented as he walked past the ring in the center of the room.

Jax nodded his head at _him _and the crowd of other voices shouting greetings, and questions—even a few challenges in his direction.

Ignoring them, Jax scanned the crowd for _one _face in particular, his eyes briefly lingering on the empty ring in the corner of the room—_their_ ring—before his eyes locked with a man he hadn't seen or spoken to since Junior high school.

_"Where the hell you been, Jackson?" _Lumpy yanked the blonde haired teen into a bear hug, slapping him hard on the back.

"I'm good, Sir," Jax said, smirking to himself. He didn't even call his _father _Sir. Shrugging it off, Jax cleared his throat, wasting no time asking the question that had been on the tip of his tongue since he walked in. "_Is Tara still here?_"

Lumpy shook his head, chuckling. "_Figures. _I knew there had to be a reason for you showing up here out of the blue. You and the Knowles kid still thick as thieves then, huh?"

"Something like that," Jax answered. _We're getting there at least. _

_Well _I _am. _

Lumpy nodded, his face suddenly serious, as he looked towards the boxing ring in the corner of the room. "I hadn't seen her back here in a while either." Lumpy looked back over at Jax. Then almost as if he couldn't help himself, a small smile resurfaced—a sad smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes but not for lack of trying. "Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm…_you _were Pebbles of course," he teased. "I kind of missed you two sparring here after school."

Jax laughed, despite the worry creeping into his bones. "I think you miss watching me get my ass kicked by a girl."

Lumpy nodded instead of responding. For a moment he stared off towards the back of the gym where Jax knew the locker rooms were.

"Is she here?" Jax prompted, repeating the question he never bothered to answer.

"That girl's got more fight in her than half the high school boys I train every day. _Hell, _even some of the grown men who come in here." Lumpy pulled the hand towel draped over his shoulder, wiping beads of sweat that weren't really there off of his forehead. "...She flipped out on Lowell Jr. a couple minutes ago…it was like she was…" Lumpy stopped short, peering over at Lowell Jr., who was icing the side of his face.

Jax didn't like where the conversation was going.

Whenever an adult got all reflective on him instead of answering his damn question he knew there was a reason for them stalling—one that he _really _wasn't going to like.

"Look, Lumpy, I—" Jax's words died on his tongue when the man turned a tentative gaze towards him.

The man had something he wanted to say to Jax. And clearly whatever it was, made him uncomfortable for whatever reason.

"I don't even have to ask you if you care about her… it's written all over your face, son…And I'm not saying this to scare you _or_ because I want you repeating my words later, understand?" Jax nodded. "There's always a reason behind that kind of…_energy. _I don't know what she's fighting…or _who _but I know it's not Junior over there."

Jax was started to feel like a broken record as he again asked, "Where is she?"

Finally.

Lumpy nodded towards the back of the gym. Jax tapped him on the shoulder, making a beeline for the locker room.

"Hey, _Jax._" Lumpy called from behind him. Reluctantly, Jax turned back around to face him. "I always liked that kid. She used to bring extra flowers for my Laurie when she visited her mom in the hospital...a real sweet heart, that one. Look out for her, will ya?"

Jax nodded once. _Always, _he thought.

He turned back around just in time to see the backdoor to the gym swing shut, a flash of brown hair disappearing from view.

* * *

Jax didn't have to sprint very far before he caught up with her. When he pushed through the doors leading out into the back alley, Tara was shoving her cellphone deep down into her bag—leaned over, the fabric of her usual jeans of choice fit snug against her in all the right places.

Jax was convinced her obsession with tight shorts was _just_ to torture him.

She was in her own little world as usual. And as she snap the clips of her bag shut he had the overwhelming urge to sneak up on her like he used to do when they'd leave the gym this way.

Giving the way she was acting in school and whatever Lumpy had hinted at back in the gym, common sense _should_ have told him that wasn't the brightest idea.

Live and learn.

Jax rushed towards her, the soles of his white Nike's barely tapping against the concrete. As soon as he was close enough he threw a hand over her eyes.

He'd barely gotten the, "Guess who?" out before he was flying backwards, the force of the blow to his mouth throwing him off balance.

"_Jesus Christ, _Tara," Jax exclaimed, his voice muffled behind his hand.

Tara spun around to face him.

Jax pulled his hand away from his lips to assess the damage. Blood stained his fingertips, the metallic taste pooling on the tip of his tongue. Looking up at her, he smiled as he watched her keel over laughing. "You know," he said, "for two people that don't get along, you and my mother have a lot in common. You _love _busting people in the face."

"_Oh, Shit," _Tara said, her eyes widening. She'd finally noticed the blood dripping from his mouth. "I'm sorry, Jax...but you _scared _me."

"I can see that," Jax responded, twisting his jaw from side-to-side. _I can _feel _that shit, too._

Tara opened her bag back up, pulling a pack of tissues from it. She pulled one from the pack, dabbing at the cut on his lip.

"You're alright, Teller," Tara said, giggling when he winced. "I doubt I'm the first girl to make you bleed. And with your track record I won't be the last either."

"I could press charges on you, you know." Jax's smile belied the threat.

Tara shrugged. "You think you're the only tough one, _Outlaw_? I'll have you know I can hold my own against my future cellmate Big Bertha."

Jax cocked an eyebrow. "I could just _sue _you instead. I bet your Old man wouldn't like that too much."

Tara scoffed. "For _what? _We don't have any money."

"Well…I've had my eye on that Cutlass for a while now…"

Tara gasped, green eyes widening. "Oh _no_! Not the _Cutlass_! Whatever will I used to pick my drunk daddy up from the bar with on Saturday night?"

Was her father the reason she was acting strange?

Jax needed answers…like yesterday.

But she seemed so happy to be around him—even if it took an elbow to his face to get her there.

He wanted to hold off on the confrontation just a little bit longer.

"I'm willing to accept a settlement," Jax commented, still playing along.

"Oh _yeah_?" Tara crumpled the bloody tissue in her hand, tossing it towards the dumpster to the side of them, completely oblivious to the fact that it didn't make it in. Smiling over at him she asked, "What's _that_ look like?"

Jax pointed to his swelling bottom lip. "You could just _kiss _it better," he teased, winking at her.

Jax found himself shuffling his feet, making sure she didn't knock him off balance—again.

But this time the blow didn't come from a reflexively lashed out elbow.

It was the way her green eyes darkened, that flirty smile spread across her face as she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth.

Slowly, she moved in close to him, closing the gap until he could see the miniature flecks of brown swirling in the olive green of her eyes. Slanting her head, she leaned into him, her hand reaching around to the spot where his neck and the back of his head met. Jax was immobile, save for the rapid inhale and exhale of his lungs when she pulled his face down to hers.

There wasn't even a full inch between their mouths, the tips of their noses touching. Tara eyes fluttered closed.

_Then_—just as she leaned in that _last_ tenth of an inch her lips slipped past his, just barely grazing his jawline, all the way towards his ear. Her breath tickled his earlobe as she whispered softly, "_I guess I'll see you in court then, Teller_."

Tara pulled back, a mischievous grin lighting up her face. Jax found himself more amused than frustrated for once.

"You're such a cock tease," Jax joked.

Tara's face fell immediately.

And that was when he remembered why he sought her out in the first place.

"Shut up," Tara said, shoving his shoulder playfully. And her smile was back just that quick, but it was too late. He'd already seen her initial reaction.

He just didn't have the slightest clue what the hell it was about.

Forced or not, even the slightest twinkle in her eyes when she smiled at him made Jax regret what Lumpy said to him.

It made him regret that it was just one more thing to add to the list of questions he had to ask her.

Questions he knew would quickly wipe that pretty smile off her face—whether it was fake or not.

"What?" Tara asked when he stared at her, as he gnawed at the corner of his bruised lip.

What_ is going on with you?_

What _the hell are WE doing?_

What _the hell are you doing to ME?_

_What question do I even ask you first?_

WHAT, indeed.

Jax chose the easiest—easiest for _him_—subject first. It was the one freshest in his mind.

He nodded his head toward the brick, outside wall of the gym. "I spoke to Lumpy. You want to tell me what happened in there today?"

Jax knew he'd have to say goodbye to her smile.

He knew a frown would take its place soon after.

Then—he thought—Tara would do what she normally did when he confronted her about anything.

Get angry and curse him out.

Avoid his eyes until she could come up with lie.

Maybe even look up towards the sky, trying to come up with a way to change the subject altogether.

Any of the three were right in his wheelhouse.

Jax was prepared for all of the above.

What he _wasn't _prepared for was the deer-in-the-headlight look that flashed in her eyes like he was a mack-truck zooming towards her on the freeway.

What he wasn't prepared for was the _fear_—not anger—that took place of the shock in her expression the second her initial reaction faded.

And what he _definitely_ wasn't prepared for were the tears welling up at the corners of her eyes.

Zero _to_ sixty.

He'd managed to get her from playful to tormented at the flip of a switch.

Jax had found the _one _trigger he _never_ wanted to pull.

Not with _her_.

Jax was sure he'd made plenty of girls cry at some point or other. He never did it purposely but he couldn't bring himself to actually care too much either.

But _this_—watching Tara cry? It made him feel like he deserved another elbow to the face.

"What the hell is _wrong _with you, Tara?"

Wrong question? Maybe.

Wrong wording? _definitely._

But it didn't matter if it was _both _offenses. Whatever wrong it was made it _worse. _

Tara completely lost it—and every sob that rocked through her was another shot to his chest. Jax reached to pull her into a hug.

Tara jumped back, away from him, and he found his hands flying up above his head in mock surrender.

Jax was completely helpless to the storm he'd just started and he didn't have the slightest clue how to weather it—or who to hurt for being the cause of it in the first place.

Was it her dad?

He hoped not, because Jax was just about _done_ playing nice with shitty fathers. He wouldn't hesitate to crack the bottle always in his hand over Arthur's head if he had _anything _to do with the breakdown unfolding in front of his widening, blue eyes.

"Tara, what's—" She shook her head, No.

No, what?

"_Tara._" Jax tried reaching for her again. This time she let him. He wrapped an arm around her, resting the palm of his hand against the middle of her back. His other hand reached up to her face, padding his thumb across her tearstained cheeks in gentle strokes. "What is it, _babe?_ It doesn't matter what it is...you can tell me."

"I'm sorry, Jax," Tara choked out. "I know you t-t-think I lost-tt my damn mind."

_Right now I _really_ do, but after seeing what you did to Lowell—with his headgear ON—I think it's better for the rest of my face if I don't cop to it right now._

"Of course, not," Jax said. "Just tell me what's wrong? What did I say? Did I do—"

There was that head shaking again. "—you didn't do anything. _I_ did….I'm sorry, Jax. All this time I've been blaming you…putting it all on your father when JT was never the problem…not really..."

Jax couldn't resist running a hand through the top of her hair, hoping she didn't notice as the scrunchie that was barely holding her ponytail in place, fell to the ground. He implored her to continue with his eyes. When she mumbled the words, "It was _Hale,_" it didn't matter which one she was talking about.

His temper flared automatically, and he had to force himself to reign in his reaction before he flipped out and scared her quiet.

"Is this about Sarah?" Jax doubted she would say _Hale _if she was talking about her best friend since elementary school but just to be sure he had to ask.

Tara shook her head. "Her father."

Jax didn't think he could get any angrier—he was _wrong._

"What did that asshole do now?" _Tell me step by step so I have my motive right when the cops ask me why I cut the break lines on that piece of shit car he drives._

"He threatened me."

_Twenty, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen—fuck this. That counting backwards shit doesn't work._

"Threatened you _how?_" Jax said through his teeth.

"When that whole thing went down with Sarah…everyone thought I recanted my statement because of you…they thought I did it to protect you. And I won't deny it anymore, Jackson. It's the truth. No matter how much I can't _stand _that woman I'd never do anything that would take your mother away from you," Tara admitted. "But you weren't the _only _reason I did it…"

_So all this time you've been lying about my father? _

_I cursed him out, turn my back on him because of you…and now you're telling me…_

"You told me you lied to the cops because my father threatened you." Jax tried and failed to keep the hardness of his voice.

It was an accusation plain and simple—there was no putting lipstick on this pig.

Tara's eyes flashed with guilt that made him want to run away the way _she _usually did. If this was the truth he didn't want to hear it anymore.

Before Jax could give into the impulse to walk away from her, Tara sighed, her lips spreading into a sad smile. "JT _did_ threaten me… or at least Clay Morrow wanted me to _think _so. Either way it didn't matter. SAMCRO was never the real problem….and I _never _believed your father would hurt me. Gemma? _Most definitely.__" _Jax chuckled lightly at that. "But not your dad..._You wouldn't let him._"

Jax nodded in agreement.

So she _hadn't _lied about the Club. But the brief relief that washed over him didn't last very long because now he was confused again.

Jax's eyes said it all even as he used his words to confirm the question swirling in them. "_What happened, Tara?_"

"I didn't recant my statement because I was scared," Tara said. "….I did it because I never wanted to talk to the cops in the first place."

When Jax's eyebrows threaded together, Tara sighed, raking a nervous hand through her hair.

"Here's the _truth,_" Tara continued. "I love Sarah…she was my best friend and despite whatever issues she has…she's not a bad person…but her father is a sadistic asshole…and she's _daddy's little girl_. And no matter what, nothing is _ever_ her fault….When she overdosed her dad tried to _bribe me_ with adoption papers. And when I told him how I really felt…that I was worried about leaving my dad…or trying to replace my mother… he threatened to file a complaint against my father with child protective services. He told me he would ruin my life if I didn't help him…so I _did_." Tara looked away before she could Jax's nostrils flaring. "….I thought it was about Sarah…thought maybe he was just lashing out because his daughter almost died...I thought that I could still trust him—maybe not as a person…but as a man of the law at least." Jax scoffed, and Tara's eyes shot back to his face. Tara nodded. "I _know…._now I do anyway…back then I still thought I could come to him with…."

"With _what?" _Jax prompted.

Tara shook her head. "You_ know what?_ It doesn't matter. I changed my mind, simple as that. I reversed my statement—the one I was _forced _to make because…because _fuck him, _that's why."

_This is why you keep running from me? _

_Because you're scared I'm going to walk away first? _

_That I'll hold it against you for lying when you were just doing it to protect yourself?_

Heat built up in Jax's chest. Watching the pain—all the guilt that flashed in her eyes before she shuttered them made him hot all over. His own anger could have very well been the thing that dried up the last of her tears.

"Jacob Hale…Arthur Knowles…_your mother," _Tara whispered, looking down at her left hand as she doled out a new finger for each person she named. "…I don't what the hell is wrong with me, Jax….but for some reason I just can't seem to catch a break with _anyone's_ parents. Not even my own." Tara's laugh was incredibly bitter. "My mom was the only one that gave a shit…. and she's been in the ground since I was eight. I guess Jacob Jr. was right. _I really am an orphan._"

Jax didn't know what to say to her.

Jacob Hale was a _snake. _

He'd known it when she used to tell him about all the trips he took her and Sarah on to Disney land when they were younger. He just didn't want to start an argument for telling her the truth. He knew he'd never win with someone as stubborn as Tara. And even when they were kids she was always loyal to a fault. Tara was the type that had to learn from experience. She ignored what people said and watched what they did instead.

She was right about her father, too—Arthur cared more about drinking away his pain than staying sober long enough to care for his own daughter.

And God, help him, but she was definitely right about his mother—that woman hated even deeper than she loved and she _never _gave Tara a chance.

Tara had just given Jax yet another reason to want to pound Judge Hales face against that self-righteous bench he sat on every day.

Everything she said was _true_.

He couldn't argue against _any _of it. So he did what he _could _do.

Jax pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her.

All he could do was hug her and hope the embrace was enough to ease some of the pain—enough to show her that _he _gave a shit even if no one else was smart enough to see her for what she was—_beautiful_.

Confused and moody twenty-four-seven? Yep.

Short tempered and more than a little judgmental at times? Hell, yeah.

But she was still beautiful—horns and all.

And intelligent—even if she was a know-it-all.

And strong as hell—even if she broke down in back alleys.

Tara was also the Queen of deflection and avoidance.

But on a _good _day, Jax caught on before the dust cleared from her taking off before he could realize she'd done it _again_.

Jax pulled back slightly. Arms still around her, he looked into her eyes, taking a moment to appreciate the peacefulness he saw in them. The lightness in her shoulders.

Just a moment though. That's all you ever got with Tara before she threw you off course.

He had to strike now.

"Remember when you said I probably think you're out of your mind? I _don't._ I know you're not crazy, Tara." Jax brushed her hair back. It wasn't really in her face, he just couldn't resist touching some part of her. Like her face. He curved his hand under her chin, thumb brushing her cheek. "You're not crazy…but I'm not _stupid _either….that's not the only reason you freaked out on me just now…what aren't you telling me?"

Tara pulled away from him, looking down at the ground. "You really going to make me have this conversation _here…_behind Lumpy's gym?"

Jax shrugged. "We can go where ever you want, babe. But you gotta talk to me."

"Not now, Okay?"

_And they call me Prince _Charming. _How charming can I be if I can never get the women in my life to do what the hell I say?_

Jax sighed loudly. "_Tara—_"

"I'm not saying not _ever_." Tara looked up at him, green eyes locking with blue. "I just…I need to do it in smaller doses…It's been a while since you've been the one I talk to about this kind of stuff…"

_I guess I have my Old Man to thank for that._

Tara paused. But when she seen Jax's grimace, she quickly added, "I'm not saying we can't get back there…it's just going to take a minute, ya know? Besides…I already told you the worst of it…I got over _it. _I just think it's the keeping everything a secret that's stressing me out..."

Jax really wanted to know what _it _was and w_ho _it had to with.

Intuition was telling him this particular incident had nothing to do with the good Judge of Charming County—or at the very least he wasn't the _only _one to blame.

Instead of giving her the third degree—like he wanted to—Jax simply nodded, afraid of what he might say if he tried to put his thoughts into words right now.

"You working tonight?" Jax asked after a moment of them just standing there.

Jax hoped that maybe if he took her to that park they used to go to, hang out for a little while she'd open up and tell him _everything_.

Tara smiled. "I just got a phone call that says I'm not."

"Cool. Maybe we could go—"

"_Tara? _What are you doing out"—Jax turned around, eyes locking with his best friend—"_Oh. _Okay…now it makes sense." Opie walked towards them. He started to say something to Jax but then he did a double take, squinting his eyes at Tara's face. "Are you.._crying?"_

"It wasn't me, bro," Jax joked lamely.

"What happened?" Opie asked.

Tara shrugged. "Just sharing some history that's all…"

_Kind of…_some_ of it anyway…not _ALL.

Jax's eyes darted between Tara and Opie as a silent message passed between the two of them.

He had to swallow the urge to kick something—or better yet, some_one_.

Opie turned towards him. "Is your phone off or something? Wendy called me…said something about how she doesn't need you to help her paint today…she needs you to stop by _tomorrow_ and do it. You moonlighting as a carpenter now?"

Jax patted down his jean pockets, ignoring Opie's confused stare. "_Shit. _I think I left it at the front desk inside."

"_I'll get it for you," _Tara volunteered. Clearing her throat, she added, "I need to ask Lumpy something anyway…I'll meet you at the truck, Ope."

Opie nodded, smiling at her as she walked past him.

Jax glared over at his best friend. "You her _personal_ chauffer now?"

"Until you get your Harley next month I'm_ your _chauffer, asshole.…she lives next door to me, remember? She asked me to drop her here for an hour. I had to go fill Piney's prescription and wait for it anyway so I told her I'd swing by and pick her back up so she didn't have to walk. _That's all it is, _bro."

Jax gave him a stiff nod. "My bad, Ope. This shits not even on you…she still won't talk to me, not like she did before."

"She's a _chick_, man. Being difficult is what makes them females."

Jax chuckled. "You're probably right…but me and Tara? We're getting there though."

Opie nodded. "Well until you _do_ get there…._I got her, bro_."

Jax patted his best friend on his shoulder, walking off before he could see the slight bitterness in his expression.

"_Hey, Jax_."

Jax made sure to fix his face before looking back. "Yeah?"

"You riding with us, right?"

"That's the plan."

"Well when we get to the house, do me a favor and keep Donna company for a little while. She's already there…and I wanted to talk to Tara about something."

Jax cocked an eyebrow. "Something I should know?"

Opie shook his head just a little too fast. "It's all good, bro. It's just some shit with Donna…need a _chick's _opinion."

Opie was lying—and Jax knew it.

But he let it slide because what else could he do?

_Maybe if I convince the Club to ship _your_ ass off to Ireland, me and Tara will _get there_ faster._

_I love you, bro. But you're in _my_ spot. _

_I should have never left it open._

"No, problem, Ope. I got _you_."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** I loved Harry "Opie" Winston on the show. Season 5 broke my heart into a million little pieces. Needless to say he will definitely be included in this story as often as it makes sense. #ThatIsAll.

**\- Veritable **Old Lady **Crow**

* * *

The drive to Opie's house was quiet. It was peaceful, too.

Or at least it _would _have been if Opie wasn't staring at her funny.

The first time he caught Tara's eye he looked at her like he thought she'd seize control of the steering wheel and run the truck off the road at any given moment.

The second time he looked at her like he was _worried _about something.

The _next_ time he caught her eye, he looked determined—like he'd finally made a decision about something…something to do with her.

Something Tara was pretty sure she wasn't going to like one bit.

Tara sat in the middle of the truck.

When she first leaned over towards Jax, resting her head on his shoulder, she started to convince _herself_ that she only did it to avoid Opie's weird stare-off.

But then Jax turned in towards her, sliding an arm behind her back pulling her in closer to him…and she forgot all about the excuse she'd been planning to make up in her head.

Tara briefly glimpsed Opie looking over at them through the corner of her eye. Before she could be petty and ask, "what the hell you looking at?" Jax rested his hand on her belly, casually sliding it under the her shirt, his thumb occasionally tickling her belly button as he drummed a massage against her bare stomach.

Tara pulled her head out of crook of his neck to look up at him.

Jax was facing straight ahead.

That _might _have made it seem like he was oblivious to what he was he doing—if he wasn't losing the battle to keep the smile off his face.

Opie parked in front of his house just in time.

Tara was seconds away from telling _Counselor Teller_ that she'd be willing to agree to his settlement.

David couldn't have been further from her mind right then.

She couldn't stop staring at the purpling bruise on his lips—the one _she'd _put there.

And she couldn't stop thinking about how badly she wanted to _kiss it better_.

* * *

Tara _heard _Donna before she saw her.

But then so did everyone.

The chick was harping before Opie could slam the front door all the way shut.

"_Twenty minutes_!" Donna shrieked. "You said you'd be back in twenty minutes…last time I checked twenty minutes didn't translate in to an _hour _and twenty. Where the hell you been, Ope? Did you run into _Sarah_ on your way to get—"

Donna skipped past the frustration in Opie's eyes _and _the humor in Tara's.

She didn't catch the laughter in Jax's eyes either.

She was too busy staring at his mouth. "Oh _shit. _What the fuck happened to your face?"

"A little misunderstanding," Tara joked as her and Jax looked at each other, laughing.

Donna's scowl was back. "You two make me s_ick. _Always with the back and forth. Are we on today or _off_? The whole Gerber baby _grins &amp; giggle_ shit you got going says you're _on again_…but that _misunderstanding_ on Jax's face says off. Which is it?"

Jax eyes jumped to Opie, who was already shaking his head. "What's up with Tinkerbell?"

"I have _asked_ you to stop calling me that s_hit_!"

Opie grabbed a hold of Tara's arm, shooting his best friend a glare. "When _I'm_ done with her, you can ask Tara yourself. It's _her _fault."

Donna gaped at her boyfriend, as he walked past her, closing his bedroom door behind him.

"Where's the fire Ope?" Tara quipped. "I didn't _make _Sarah do anything so if—"

"—that's not what I want to talk to you about."

"What do"—Tara snapped her mouth shut. The look in his eyes told her _exactly _what he wanted to talk to her about.

_NOPE._

Tara craned her neck towards the window—as _if_ she could actually _see _her driveway from by his bed. "The Cutlass isn't in the driveway," Tara said as soon as Opie opened his mouth to speak.

"Tara—"

"—My dad must have left for work already...he's working the night shift until next week," Tara rambled. "Eureka…I can actually lay down in my own bed for once."

"I need to talk to you."

"You don't need _shit._"

"You told Jax about Jacob Hale." It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

Tara nodded once. "_Yes_, I did."

"Did you tell him _everything?_"

Tara's hand flew to her hip, as she rolled back on one foot. "Everything that _matters._"

When Opie paused, Tara hoped that was the end of it.

"Did you tell _me _everything?"

When would she learn that _hoping_ was for suckers?

"What do you want Opie?" Tara huffed.

"I'm trying to ask you something." There was that nervous look again.

Tara's eyes drifted towards the ceiling. "Then spit it out. I already have a headache as it is."

And spit it out he did.

"Donna was talking to this chick from her physics class and _she _said her boyfriend saw you go ape shit on Lowell Jr. Today…._and..._ I know Hale finally stopped hiding you. Some douche bag from my gym class was telling his buddies he saw you and him having sex in the parking lot…so _you're_ the one that's hiding from his family now. Did his father say—"

"—_Jesus Christ_. Whose idea was it to make high school look like fun on television? The reality is _bullshit_. Doesn't anyone have better shit to do with their lives than start rumors? What's next? They're gonna say I'm fuckin Mr. Whitman, too?"

"—well _actually—"_

_"—_And why is _your_ girlfriend always in my business?"

"It's not even about you, Tara. Donna's _all about gossip _all of a sudden. Sarah hasn't even been back a week and she's already twisting Donna up. And that was after _ten _minutes with her. You need to reign that bitch in right now."

"_Right_. Because I'm her keeper. I'll get right on it, _Harry._"

Opie's next words were blurted out fast.

It was like he was ripping a Band Aid off just to get the sting over with.

"_Were you raped?"_

"My GOD. Where the _fuck_ did that come from? Opie! You don't go around asking shit like that!"

"I'm sorry," Opie mumbled. "I didn't know how else to say it…you still didn't answer my question though….I was talking to Donna about what you told me before—

"_Of course_ you were," Tara growled. "Did you tell her my cup size, too?"

Opie wrinkled his nose. "Why the hell would I know anything about _your _breasts? Besides the fact that they're clearly still _in training_."

"_Asshole_." Tara giggled.

Opie joined in with her briefly—before he face-palmed himself. "How the fuck do you keep doing that?"

"What am I doing?"

"You _always _find a way to change the subject. Answer the goddamn question."

"_Geez_. I hope you never sign up for the academy. Your people skills suck. That would make you a shitty detective. No talking to the victims for _you. _Donna calls you her _Teddy-bear_? More like _grizzly _if you ask me..." Tara walked towards the window. "I'm going home to take a shower. Leave your window unlocked for me just in case my dad comes home early, okay?"

"Tara, I swear to _God_ if you take one more step towards that window I _will _tackle your stubborn ass."

"Yeah _right_," Tara scoffed. She didn't take another step though.

"You know I'll do it…and then I'll tie you and Donna up…_together_ and leave you with _her_ for an hour."

As far as threats go Tara had never heard one scarier.

Tara turned back around, meeting his eyes. "_No, _Opie…nothing happened. It wasn't even like—I stopped it, okay?"

"You stopped _what_?"

"It doesn't matter—"

"Like _hell _it doesn't!" Opie yelled. He looked back towards the closed bedroom door when Tara cringed.

_"What the hell is going on in there? Are y'all talking about that Sarah bitch? I swear to _GOD, _Opie—"_

_"Donna!" _Tara heard Jax exclaim_. "Just give them a minute." _Jax's raised his voice a little louder when he added—probably for Opie's benefit—_"You know he's probably going to tell you every damn thing later on _anyway_."_

_"He didn't _tell _me he was in love with that—"_

_"_—_OK…let's take a walk…if you want I'll take you by Teller Morrow. Sarah's new car is in the shop for detailing. If you shut up I'll let you scratch that shit up with my old man's Ka-Bar."_

"Jax!" Opie yelled through the wall. "You better _not_!"

_Why the hell did you say _that?

Clearly Opie Winston had yet to learn that when something is left open to interpretation angry girlfriends tended to assume the w_orst case _scenario.

"_Why not, Opie! It's not like you still care about her RIGHT?"_

Tara could practically _feel_ Jax's laughter shaking the walls. She grabbed Opie's arm to stop him from walking out into the living room.

He stopped resisting when he heard the front door open and slam closed.

"You can kick Jax's ass later, Ope. And there's nothing you can say to _her_ that is getting through right now. _Trust me._"

Opie facial expression turned more serious than she'd ever seen it. "Do _you _trust _me?_"

Tara reached around, rubbing at the back of her neck. "Of course, I do."

"And you know I'll always have your back? I'm not talking about the Club…or Piney…or even Jax. You know that _I'll _always have your back?"

"I have yours, too Opie…that's why I'm trying to save you from your spaz of a girlfriend," Tara joked.

Opie didn't crack a smile. "You're never going to tell me who it was, _are you?"_

Tara looked over towards the mirror above his dresser. Opie followed her gaze, meeting her eyes there still. "My dad has signed legal documents that say I can't tell _anyone._"

"Why the hell not, Tara?"

Tara looked away from the mirror to meet his eyes directly this time.

The shrugging of her shoulders did nothing to lessen the redness in her cheeks, or the defeat in her tone. "We still had a lot of bills…from my mom. We were going to lose the house, Ope. _I made a decision_...and it's like you said. I need to learn to stick by the choices I make."

Opie's eyes widened. "So he _did—_"

"—No, Opie," Tara interrupted. "He _didn't. _I swear it didn't get that far…I didn't even look at it as attempted anything at the time. He was just a sloppy drunk that had a few too many Scotches _neat _and too few functioning brain cells to use good judgment" Opie's looked at Tara like she'd grown two heads when she started giggling. Shaking her head, she added, "It's kind of funny actually...whenever Jax _tries_ to help me, I won't let him. But when he's not trying to _at all_…he helps me anyway."

"You're doing that double speak thing again. I _hate it _when you do that."

"_I kicked his ass," _Tara barked. The pride in her eyes left no room to doubt what she said was true. "I don't have to put a name to him. He's a _pervert_. That's who he is in my head. He doesn't deserve a _name. _All you need to know is all that all those hours in the ring with Jax taught me a few things. Sparring with _Prince Charming _served a purpose…he was _drunk_ and I was _fast. _By the time Hale walked in he had to get _me _off of _him_."

Opie's breath hitched.

Tara almost stepped back when she saw the fury in his eyes. "That asshole knew who—he s_aw it _and he still—_he made you_"—Opie threw his hands up. They landed in a tent on top of the beanie on his head. "I should have told Pop the _whole_ truth when he asked me—"

"—No you _shouldn't _have. The Club couldn't be involved. What about Sarah? Or David? What about his _wife_? Gloria never did _anything _to me. _Jesus,_ Opie. Don't you realize all that Outlaw shit blows back on other people? _Innocent _people. That would have been the _last_ thing I wanted. Jacob Hale might care _more_ about maintaining his political ties than doing the right thing but that doesn't make him—"

"—make him _what_?" Opie growled. He started pacing around the room. "Responsible for manipulating a teenager to keep her mouth shut just so he could keep his status. I _know _it was someone from the City Council...or maybe one of his other golf buddies. They're all the same. _Whoever_ this asshole is you're protecting—"

"—I am _not _protecting him. Legally I have—"

"—he didn't just make a pass at you, or grab your arm a little too tight. _He tried to_—"

"—he was _drunk_—"

"SO _FUCKIN _WHAT! That doesn't—"

"—_he thought I was Sarah._"

Opie froze mid-step. "What?"

Tara crossed an arm over her chest, rubbing at her shoulder. "It happened during one of Mrs. Hale's fundraisers…I snuck into the study…Sarah was supposed to keep her father distracted while I stole the extra bottle of Scotch he had hidden in his bottom desk drawer… I was looking for the key…didn't want to turn the lights on in case they looked up at the window from the back patio…_he _walked in…and then…you know.."

Opie shook his head. "That _still_ doesn't explain—"

"—she was sleeping with him." Opie's eyes widened. "Yeah, I know right? Who said daddy issues had to come from a _neglectful_ father?"

"So he didn't actually—but then why would he pay you to—what the hell do you mean he _thought _you were Sarah?"

_I really hope you're still angry because of _me _and not because you went over the timeline in your head and figured out _who _Sarah was supposed to be dating at the time._

_You're supposed to be over her, remember, Ope?_

"_Look. _I let him know I wasn't Sarah pretty quickly when I tore his hands away from my ass…but then he went from apologizing to slurring about how _we looked just like sisters, _telling me some twisted bullshit about how Sarah was a _bad girl…_asking me if I was _bad like her…_if I would be _bad for him_…"

Opie held up his hand. "I don't want to hear that shit. All I want to know is—"

"—_he pissed me off, okay?_ He's a creep. Sarah was already on my shit list for playing you and Jax off each other. Then I find out she has a grandpa fetish on top of everything else. I was _pissed_ at her, too. What do I usually do when I'm pissed off, Opie? _I run my mouth off, _that's _what_! I told him to get the hell away from me, and maybe that _alone _would have been fine but I just couldn't stop myself from telling him he was disgusting…and calling him a _two-pump chump_. My mouth got me in trouble…_as usual._"

"That didn't give him the right to—" Opie cut his rant short when Tara held up her _own _hand this time.

Waving him off, she said, "You can spare me the _It wasn't your fault _speech. I appreciate, Ope but I don't need convincing….people like to throw words around like stuck-up...know-it-all…Nerd-vana…or _cock tease…_and on a bad day it gets to me. But in this case it doesn't matter. I _know _it wasn't my fault. _None of it was. _I just wanted you to understand what set him off...who knows if that was even what he wanted to do...all he did was grab me and spin me around..._and my fists were already balled up and waiting for him..._it was hush money to stop a scandal..._any _scandal...even if he _didn't_ grab me I could have still reported him for Sarah...silly me, I thought the respectful thing to do would be to go to her father first...that he'd come _with _me to the precinct...but as usual _his _Sarah would _never _do such a thing...she's _daddy's little girl..._Uncle Touchy paid me off and Judge Hale blackmailed me for telling the truth...and then I _called his bluff._" Tara locked eyes with Opie. "You know the rest...it was _my choice _remember? I chose Jax...just like I'm _choosing _to let David go on believing his father's a good man."

There was a pregnant pause when neither of them said anything. Tara watched Opie's face—she watched the different emotions morphing into each other.

Anger. Concern. Confusion. Anger _again. _Then he finally stopped. His face was neutral just long enough for Tara to exhale.

"You didn't tell Jax _any_ of this, did you?" Opie blurted out suddenly. The question didn't sound confrontational—it was more like him needing a confirmation.

_Goddamn it._

Tara shook her head. "I'm not going to either. And _you_ better not_._"

Opie rolled his eyes. "Have I _ever_ told him anything?" Tara cocked an eyebrow, and Opie quickly shook his head. "You sleeping over here doesn't count. He saw you coming out of my bedroom window." Opie looked down at the carpet. "Sarah was _one _thing…Jax didn't know how I felt about her when he was hooking up with her…and he's my _brother_…I know him better than anyone," Opie admitted. Then he looked back up at Tara, his lips twitching at the corners. "That's how I _know_ he wouldn't have given me a chance to explain if he thought I was hooking up with _you. _Telling him was for the sake of our friendship."

"I don't know why you think—"

"_Shut the hell up, _Tara. You're killing me with the denial…how about you treat _me _to smaller doses of _that _shit?"

_You fuckin eavesdropper._

Tara's eyes narrowed. "Are we done with this little heart to heart?"

"_Almost."_

Tara folded her arms across her chest, shooting him a look that said _Well? Get on with it already._

"You want to let the past stay buried..._fine. _But what about the Present? When are you going to tell Jax you're dating David?"

Tara scowled. "I s_wear _you and Donna are Cupid-Dee and Cupid-_Dumb…._You're the dumb one in case that wasn't clear."

"If you let him find out from someone else"—_I'm guessing you mean Sarah—"_you know him, Tara. He's going to take it as a betrayal…and you're gonna drag _me_ down with you."

"It's not even a big deal," Tara argued, rolling her eyes.

"Then why won't you tell him?"

"Because it's none of his damn _business,_" she hissed.

Opie chuckled. "Poor David. He finally grows a pair and now _you're _the one hiding _him._"

"He had his reasons for boxing me out, Ope. _He came clean_."

_I don't know how clean he's going to _stay_ when I bury his ass in the middle of the football field the next time I see him between Maize O'Keefe's legs._

Opie's eyebrows rose. "So all is forgiven now? Things are good with you and the Jock strap?"

_Ughhh. _"What was that you were saying before about how you were staying out of _my_ business?"

Opie shook his head, grinning like a jack-o-lantern. "_Jesus_. I really need to figure out how I'm doing it. I can get you _and _Jax to tell me what I want to know without meaning to…but Donna's like trying to drive through a brick wall, and that was _before _you decided to tell her about my history with Sarah."

Tara smirked. "Doesn't feel good having people meddle in your personal life _does it_?"

"I _knew _it! Thanks to you she's been tweaking out on me _all day._ It's like I'm on a fuckin episode of _Jeopardy! _All the questions are about Sarah and every time I give an answer it's _wrong_ one_. And that shit on the steps this morning?_ Remind me to thank the troublemaker you call your best friend!"

"Since when do you refer to yourself in the third person? _Weirdo. _At least you're finally admitting you're a trouble maker. Personal growth is a beautiful thing. And FYI, I _rarely _talk about you. You're not that interesting."

"That's not what I meant—"

"I know what you _meant_, moron….Sarah was like the sister I never had…but that was _before _she left. Her coming back doesn't mean everything is automatically back to the way it was it before. I don't even know how to navigate around all her drama. It's stopped being entertaining a long time ago. And truth be told, I don't even know if I want to be bothered to _try._"

"You sure that doesn't have anything to do with J—"

Tara pointed a finger in Opie's face. "—don't even say it, jackass…it has nothing to do with _him_—"

"—_small doses, _remember?"

"_Ughhhh. _I'm trying to tell you something. Shut up and _let_ me."

Opie made a show of cupping his hands behind his ears. "I'm _listening_."

Tara scowled, turning around to storm off. "_Forget it_. I'm going home."

Opie grabbed her shoulder, effortlessly spinning her around. "_Jax_ lets you get away with that shit. Not _me…_start _talking_, Knowles."

"_You're_ my best friend," Tara confessed. Opie blinked. "Sarah stopped being my best friend a long time ago…it's _you _now. You got my back and I got yours."

Then, to eliminate the sudden mushiness clogging the air in the room, Tara yanked the beanie off of his head. "Now all I have to do is convince you to let me braid ribbons in your hair."

Opie snatched his hat back. "Not even in your dreams."

"In my dreams you let me braid your beard, too." Tara yanked his goatee, hopping back when he reached for her.

"Keep it up, Tara," Opie goaded. "We might be best friends now. But don't forget_ I_ have a _backup_. Keep fuckin with me and this friendship is going to be real _temporary."_

Tara rolled her eyes, flipping her middle finger up at him as she walked backwards towards the window. "In that case…as you're _temporary _best friend here's a little advice…Tell your _backup _to keep Sarah away from him. And no I'm not saying that for _me. _I'm saying it because we all know everywhere Jax is there _you _are. If you want Donna to stop flipping out you'll listen to me."

"Oh yeah?" Opie called after her, just as she threw one leg out of the window. "Well as _your _temporary best friend I'm telling _you_, you need to tell Jax about David. And not because I think it's the _only _thing that'll get you both to take your heads out of your asses. It's because _we all know _sooner or later I won't be the only one Sarah's causing trouble for."

_Preach._

_And let the Church say, Amen._

"Whatever," Tara shot back. She jumped down out of the window, pulling it shut behind her.

_Way to ruin our bonding moment, HARRY._

* * *

**_NEXT UP:_**

**_Riddle me this folks: _**_What do you get when you mix_

**\- an **ANGRY** Donna (read: nitpicking Donna)**

\- **a brunette who thinks her boyfriend might be cheating.**

**\- a flirtacious blonde prince who likes to show his "_friends" _the _proper way _to use chopsticks**

**\- a half-empty bottle of Piney's tequila**

**\- &amp;&amp; music _certain_ people can't help but dance to..._together._**

**?**

_**STAY TUNED.**_


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **Myinner critic is a real** bee-yatch. **Still I was able to finally finish this for you guys =)

**\- **V**eritable **O**ld **L**ady **C**row**

* * *

Tara had no problem understanding any of it.

The theories, the formulas, the leg work were all fairly simple to her. It was like tying her shoes or reading Dr. Seuss.

What she _didn't_ understand was why some genius just up and decided to add the fuckin alphabet to math.

Calculus. _Really?_

Easy had nothing to do with how tedious and time consuming it was. That's why she was relieved when she was finally able to close her textbook, and say _Finito! _to her College-level Math homework. She didn't even bother changing into a pair of pajamas. She shoved all her books off her bed, kicked off her sneakers, slid her shorts down over her ankles &amp; tossed her T-shirt over the head of her desk chair.

Tara jumped right into bed.

_Her own _bed—for the first time in weeks.

It didn't matter how welcoming and considerate Opie was. _Nothing_ compared to the comfort of your own space. That was why she was looking forward to the peaceful six to eight hours of sleep she had ahead of her.

And that was why she _should _have left the house phone on the receiver in the kitchen instead of sitting it next to her bed.

It was 3:45 A.M when the house phone rang. Reluctantly, Tara rolled over clicking the receiver on. She'd barely mumbled a semi-coherent, "Hello?" before some bartender was telling her it was last call and she needed to come pick up her father.

The same father that was supposed to be _working _the night shift, instead of drinking through it.

Being forced out of bed to fetch her father from whatever bar he chose for the night was already irritating enough. Getting dressed and walking into the living room only to remember the Cutlass was _with_ said father instead of in the driveway was just the icing on the cake.

As Tara made her way through the middle of hers and the Winston's house's to climb in Opie's window, Tara wondered if this would be the kind of thing that made Opie want their friendship to _really _be temporary.

Opie was buried under his comforter, the Afghan he usually slept on the floor with tangled below him at the foot of the bed. The only part of him she could make out was the tiny part of his shoulder that wasn't covered with his long, ruddy brown hair.

"Opie," Tara called loudly, as she moved towards him to shake him awake.

If she'd known he wasn't alone she might have whispered instead—_might _being the operative word.

Donna sat up first.

She cracked one eye open, rubbing the other one, completely oblivious to the wide-eyed expression on Tara's face—or the fact that she wasn't wearing a shirt…or a bra.

"I thought Opie said your dad wasn't home," Donna said groggily. "I wasn't expecting you to come over here…"

Tara cleared her throat. "Umm…I can see that…I can also see that you're either really cold or _really _happy to see me…"

Donna followed Tara's eyes. When she looked back up the emotion in Donna's eyes didn't match the amusement in Tara's.

Donna gasped, bunching the covers up over her chest.

Then she clunked Opie hard on the top of his head.

_Well that's one way to wake someone up._

"_OW! _What the hell did I do _now_?_"_

"You were moaning Sarah's name in your sleep," Tara teased.

Opie jerked around to face her. Sitting up in the bed, the sheets fell down dangerously low. Tara quickly looked anywhere but in his direction.

_Yuck._

Clearly Donna wasn't the only one feeling a little _clothing optional _in the wee hours of morning.

"That _shit _ain't funny," Donna snapped, immediately turning to glare at her boyfriend.

Sighing, Opie looked over at the clock on his side of the bed. "Jesus Christ. It's not even five o'clock yet and you're already giving me a fuckin headache."

"_Me?_" Donna questioned. "Or Tara?"

"You better be very careful how you answer that one," Tara suggested, giggling.

"What is she doing here, Opie?" Donna demanded. "You said her father was working nights now and she didn't have to come over here the rest of this week."

Tara could tell Donna was annoyed by her—perhaps, poorly timed—Sarah joke.

Part of Tara—okay _most _of her—didn't feel bad at all. As far she was concerned it was payback for all the countless times Donna a_nd _her annoying boyfriend gave her a hard time about Jax or David.

Mostly Jax.

As Tara watched Donna's cheeks redden she realized the girl also looked a little embarrassed about being caught in Opie's bed.

Tara didn't really understand that part of it. Why would she be embarrassed by _this? _

The scene in front of her at the moment was pretty tame considering she'd accidentally walked in on Donna giving Opie head a couple months ago. Her eyes were still recuperating from the trauma. She should be more embarrassed about _that _if anything.

Unless Opie never told her about it.

"I didn't _know _she was coming," Opie huffed, shooting a confused look in Tara's direction. "Did something happen with Arthur?"

When Tara shook her head No, Opie shot her glare that matched his girlfriends.

"_What are you doing here then?_ If you wanted a ride to school, you know what time I leave. Use the doorbell next time, d_amn it._"

Donna looked like she wanted to choke him.

Nope.

There was no way he told her about it.

_You tell her everything but the shit that concerns her _personally._ Go figure._

"I need you to give me a ride to go pick up my father. He took the Cutlass with him and if I don't hurry up they'll call Unser to pick him up and then he'll be calling the school office _again _to tell me to come bail him out of the drunk tank this afternoon…because apparently my classes aren't important at all..._or_ my reputation."

Donna snatched the covers off of the bed completely to cover herself in them as she stood up. Opie—thankfully—was quick enough with throwing a pillow over himself until she could bend over to toss him the Afghan that had slid to the floor.

"You want to know something, Tara?" she sneered. "You've been milking that whole _I have a drunk for a daddy _thing a little too much these days…Why don't you ask _your _boyfriend to do you favors at four o'clock in the morning? Or better yet why don't you ask you best friend _Sarah_? Her new car should be ready by now, unless she found _another_ reason for it to end up back at Teller-Morrow…where _Opie _works."

"_Donna!_"

"It's fine, Ope," Tara cut in. "I'm not much of a morning person either…I'll give Tinkerbelle a chance to get a cup of coffee in her before I activate _my _bitch mode."

"_Whatever_." Donna stalked out, the hallway bathroom door slamming behind her.

"I thought sex was supposed to relax you, not turn you into a harpy," Tara said looking at the spot in the hall where Donna disappeared to.

_That's what I _heard _anyway, _Tara thought bitterly.

"Seriously, Tara," Opie said, rubbing his eyes, "What the hell did you say to her? I thought the whole jealousy thing was cute at first…watching her lay Emily out was kind of a turn on—

"—_Eww_…I don't need to know what turns you on—"

"—my _point _is," Opie said louder. "_This_ shit ain't funny. And if she keeps it up Sarah's going to think I'm still into her, too."

_Since we're on the subject._

Tara shot back quick as a whip,"_Are_ you?"

Tara burst out laughing when Opie shot her a murderous glare—one that made Wendy—the _real _source of his problem—come to mind as she remembered the elaborate story the big-mouth blonde had told in English.

"What the fuck is so funny?"

"HULK ANG-GREE!" Tara roared in the deepest voice she could manage.

"_Get out_," Opie said, pointing towards his bedroom door. "I'll be ready in ten minutes…._you fuckin pain in the ass."_

Tara was half way out the door when she stopped, turning around. "Is Jax riding with you guys to school today?"

_I wonder how that sexy mouth of his is doing._

_Wait, no I _don't.

_Okay, I _am_ but not because it's a _sexy _mouth...not because I've been thinking about all the things I'd like him to_ do _with it._

_It's just because I elbowed him in the face and I feel bad t_hat's all.

_Yep._

_That. Is. All._

"Why?" Donna said from the hallway.

Tara jumped at her sudden reappearance.

"You want him to help you find out if sex will turn _you _into a harpy? Maybe if one of your _many_ boys _finally_ sleeps with you, you can guilt _them_ into doing you favors."

"I tell you what, Ope," Tara half-joked, meeting Donna's icy gaze. "Why don't you tack on an extra ten minutes to that _getting ready_ time? See if you can get Tinkerbelle to unwind a bit…before she ends up getting her wings _clipped_."

Tara narrowly missed the back of her ankle getting caught in Opie's bedroom door as Donna moved to slam it behind her.

_Lollipop Guild, my ass._

The wizard of Oz was definitely false advertising—munchkins really weren't nice at all.

Tara briefly considered yanking the door back open, playing tug-o-war with it until she abruptly let it go and Donna went flying.

Tara was turning to walk away instead when she paused, tuning into Opie's measured voice through the door.

Seconds later Tara was jonesin for a bucket of popcorn and a coke to go with her early morning entertainment.

Love was such a funny thing.

_"I don't even know why _I'm_ in the dog house…but Tara didn't do anything to you. Why you being such a bitch?"_

_"Oh, so I'm a bitch now, huh?"_

_"I didn't say that—"_

_"Yes you did!"_

_"I said you're _acting _like one. There's a difference."_

_"Well if I'm being such a bitch maybe I shouldn't sleep over anymore!"_

_"I never a_sked _you to sleep over in the first place! I stopped asking you to spend the night here months ago! You came knocking on _my _window at two o'clock in the morning!"_

_"You didn't seem to mind when I was on top of you."_

_"The_ FUCK _happened to your curfew, huh Donna? Huh? _HUH?_ How many times I beg you to come over and you can't sneak out because your parents will _grooound you?"

"_You'd think you'd_ appreciate _the fact__ that I came over instead of complaining about it!"_

_"I'm not complaining about the sex—_

_"Well maybe _I _should be…Tara's got a point…you've been a little off your game lately…"_

Tara snickered behind her hand.

_"You want to try saying that _again _with a straight face?"_

The sound of a firecracker going off sounded through the bedroom door.

Man, did Donna love hitting people.

_"How's _your _face feeling, _Har-Ree_?"_

_"Stop calling me that—"_

_"—Why? Only Sarah can call you that? Is _that _it?"_

Tara was starting to feel bad for her earlier wisecrack about Sarah.

Poor Opie.

Shit was still funny though.

_"You want to know why _I'm _pissed? I have _no fuckin idea_ what _your_ problem is but here's a cheat sheet on how _I'm _feeling right about now. I feel like my girlfriend was switched with a _fuckin Changeling _or some shit! What is _wrong_ with you?"_

_"You don't want me coming over here? _FINE._ This will be the last time I show up unannounced…or at all."_

Tara slid away from the door as soon as she saw the knob turning.

_"_Wait, baby_….that's not what I meant."_

Donna, _one._ Opie, _zero._

If Tara was wearing a hat she would have taken it off to her.

_Nicely played, Tinkerbelle._

_Hit him where it hurts…Attack the head he thinks with the most._

Tara moved closer to the door again, as they lowered their voices.

_"I'm not pissed because you came over," _Opie said. _"I'm mad about _why _you came over."_

_"I snuck out because I missed you."_

_"I missed you, too, baby...but I'm not stupid, Donna. That's not why you did it. You did it because you don't trust me. And I've never given you a reason not to—"_

_"—you lied about her….you made it seem like it was no big deal…she wasn't just the first girl you slept with…she's the one that broke your heart."_

_"That was years ago…I got over it."_

_"Maybe you only _think _you did…she wants you…she wants you back, I know it…I could see how she looks at you."_

_"Donna—"_

_"—and I'm not saying I don't trust you…it's _her _I don't trust…and she's not like _Tara_…girls like Sarah __actually _know_ what they want..."_

_WHAT THE HELL IS_ THAT _SUPPOSED TO MEAN?, _Tara screamed...in her mind.

"..._Sarah _goes after_ what she wants__ no matter who she has to fuck over to get it…_look_ at me, Opie. I'm too tiny to hold my own in jail. You really want me to end up being someone's prison bitch because I lost my temper and snapped her damn neck?"_

Tara covered her mouth so they wouldn't hear as she laughed along with Opie.

Opie groaned. _"What do you want me to do, babe? If I had it my way she wouldn't be around at all but I can't control where she goes."_

_"You could talk to your best friend."_

Score one for Tara Knowles.

_Who said it would be a _good_ idea to tell Jax to ditch the honey-blonde hurricane?_

_"_Which _one?"_

Donna chuckled this time. _"_Both_ of them…but _especially_ Jax... Knowing what I know about her she'll probably use _him_ to get to you…I doubt Tara would be a part of her scheming though…at least I _hope_ not."_

_"Tara likes _you. _And she's on _our _side…trust me, baby... If Tara didn't like you, I'd be holding an ice-pack over your eye right now after all the shit you just said to her…"_

_Damn straight, _Tara thought. But then she heard Opie snickering.

_"What's so funny?"_

_"She's probably be more pissed off about the comment on her sex life…well her _lack _of one."_

Donna giggled, and Tara wanted to snap _their _necks.

" _…I'll apologize to her later."_

_"Nah, you're straight…she teased you about Sarah…let's just call it a draw."_

_"Good point...I _still _don't think that shit is funny."_

_"Are you gonna tell me who told you about me and Sarah in the first place? Tara would have copped to it by now."_

_"I overheard a few rumors…and I just used my imagination after all the hints that bitch was dropping on the steps…."_

_LIAR, _Tara thought.

Maybe Wendy's charm was warming Donna up to her after all. Tara wouldn't have hesitated to throw _that_ bitch under the bus. Jax would flip the fuck out on her for messing with his best friend, too.

Tara would have loved to see how eager she'd be to _push buttons _then.

_"…I trust you…I _really _do…it's just…I love you, Ope…and just the thought of you and her together… it makes me wanna _set her hair on fire!"

Tara's lips were going to look a lot like Jax's if she kept smacking her hand against them to stifle her laughter.

_"Great…I fell in love with a psychopath."_

_"That's the _second t_ime you called me out of my name—"_

_"—_fifth_…and the one's I said _out loud_ were a lot nicer just so you know."_

_"I love you, Opie."_

_"I love you, too, baby."_

Silence.

The bedroom fell silent, and Tara wondered if they'd finally realized she was listening in and moved away from the door.

_Oh well._

Tara pressed her ear to the door.

And she was rewarded with yet another moment of T.M.I.

Too Much_—fuckin_—__Information.

_"Isn't Tara waiting for you?"_

_"Let her wait…I still have fifteen_ _minutes."_

_"…but….but—OH!—but what if she hears us?"_

Opie chuckled. _"You mean what if she hears _you…_"_

_"Shut up!"_

_"Oh yeah? You want me to shut my mouth? You _sure? _That won't do _you_ much good right now…"_

Donna moaned, and Tara jumped back from the door.

That didn't help at all.

Whatever Opie was doing to her made Donna turn up the volume. Clearly she'd forgotten all about her worry of Tara overhearing them.

Scurrying away from the bedroom door as if it might come alive and bite her in the ass, Tara headed down the hall to the living room to wait on the couch.

Tara cringed when Donna's voice rose again minutes later—shouting praises to the man upstairs who would definitely _not _approve of what was making her chant his name. When her voice began singing over the rhythmic thump of Opie's headboard, Tara shot up from the couch, slamming the front door behind her before the sound of box springs squeaking gave her nightmares.

* * *

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	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** Another school day morning in the life of _Prince Charming._

**\- **V**eritable **O**ld Lady **C**row**

* * *

5:05 A.M.

It was the sound of his mother's voice, yelling "_Jackson! It's five o'clock! WAKE UP_!" that immediately reminded Jax why he didn't want to come home in the first place. Something was going down at Club Reaper so unfortunately for him _SAMCRO_ business had him locked out, banned from using any of the dorms.

And he couldn't sleep over at the Winston's because Opie had girlfriend problems.

Jax loved his best friend. Opie Winston was his brother, the guy he could always count on to have his back. And Jax had his.

But chick problems were something that Jackson Teller steered clear of by any means necessary. He didn't want to deal with it. Talking about girls?

That subject was off limits—especially for _them_ lately.

Jax couldn't talk to Opie about Donna because talking about Donna always lead to him teasing Opie about what a pussy she was turning him into. And that _always_ lead directly into to Opie teasing Jax about Tara.

And who wants to deal with that shit all the time?

_"Good morning, Handsome," _Sarah whispered, kissing the back of his neck.

Sarah was in a category all to herself—she was the subject they _never _brought up.

"Doesn't your father believe in giving his _little princess_ a curfew?" Jax asked as he leaned over to look at the digital alarm clock on his night stand.

_Maybe if he kept you on a shorter leash I'd only have _one _annoying voice to wake up to this morning._

Behind him Sarah giggled. "I forgot how cranky you are in the morning," she said, sitting up to curl an arm around his waist.

Jax sat up, throwing the covers off. He almost cringed when his bare feet touched the ice-cold surface of his bedroom floor.

Late nights and early mornings weren't supposed to effect _teenagers_. Yet Jax was exhausted—as if _he'd _been the one going three rounds in a ring with Tara instead of Lowell Jr.

At the thought of Tara, Jax's hand involuntarily flew up to touch his lip, fingers brushing against the slowly fading bruise at the corner of his mouth from the day before.

Then his mind flashed to the ride in Piney's truck to Opie's house.

The way Tara leaned into him, one hand resting innocently on his thigh as he slid an arm behind her, pulling her in closer. When he'd first placed a hand on her stomach it had started out _just _as innocent. But then her belly went rigid under his fingers. A tiny gasp escaped past her lips—a sharp intake of breath Tara probably didn't think he could hear over the hum of the radio. Running his hand up and down, his pinky had accidentally brushed the edge of her shirt up. It was only for a second, and it barely qualified as skin to skin contact. And yet her lack of reaction—no her _trying _and failing _not _to react emboldened him.

He'd slipped his hand all the way under her shirt—and his own torture was instant. Jax had realized too late that her allowing him to splay his hands across her bare stomach was a lot like ordering a sundae and only getting to eat the cherry.

He wanted more—his _hands_ wanted more. And when she lifted her chin, head leaning back to glance up at him, he averted her gaze, staring straight ahead. On the outside his smile was one of amusement—arrogant as always. But inside he knew he was in big trouble when the wanthe'd merely glimpsed in her eyes before turning his head had his own stomach in knots.

Opie had no fuckin idea but _Jax _was the one he needed to worry about. _He _was the one ready to grab ahold of the steering wheel and force the truck to a stop just so he could chuck his ass out of it and drive off somewhere with the brunette he couldn't seem to get five minutes alone with _without _somebody interrupting them.

A big part of him was grateful that his best friend was there for Tara when he she wouldn't let him be. But that did nothing to curb his annoyance. And back in the truck, Jax just couldn't shake the feeling that Opie's presence had robbed him of an opportunity to get an even better _settlement _from one defendant, Tara Knowles—a settlement that involved a lot more fun for his lips than just kissing hers.

Jax jumped as Sarah hands slid down from his waist, into his boxers to grip his throbbing erection.

_"_See now _this_," Sarah said in his ear as she stroked him, "is what makes waking up next to a guy in the _morning_ worth all the trouble I'll be in for sneaking out."

Jax rolled his eyes even though she couldn't see him.

He could have easily called _bullshit _on her getting in trouble. Her parents let her run wild all the time just like his. They only got serious when they needed someone else to punish for _her _actions.

Tara was proof of that.

And Tara was another thing he _could have _corrected her about. Because the painful hard-on in between his legs _this _morning didn't have shit to do with a natural reaction to REM-sleep.

He probably _should have_ spoken up. He'd already pissed Sarah off the other night when he'd slipped up and called her Tara's name (something he would _deny til he died_ ifSarah's ego ever shrunk enough for her to tell anyone.)

This might have been the last straw, the final thing that snapped Sarah out of this bat-shit crazy idea that she could somehow _tame _him or control him with her extra set of lips.

His name was Jackson Nathaniel Teller—_not_ Harry Winston.

He should have told her to give it up—literally _and _figuratively.

But he was still a _guy. _

So instead of opening his mouth to speak his mind (a _chick_ move if there ever was one), he did what any other _guy_ would do. He sat there in silence as she kissed his neck, working him over with her hand.

But then she released him, climbing around into his lap. Grinding against him, it wasn't hard to tell that the only thing she had on was the T-shirt she was wearing—_his _T-shirt.

A _SAMCRO _T-shirt he hadn't even worn yet.

Looking down at her chest, he asked, "_Where _did you get that?", even though he already knew the answer.

Sarah cocked an eyebrow. "You're infamous for being good at _multitasking. _I should know…but are you seriously focusing on what I _am _wearing?" Sarah lifted up, sliding his boxers down past his knees. "I'd think you'd be more focused on what I'm _not _wearing," she teased, as she resumed rocking against him.

Well he was _now._

Being annoyed would have to wait until after.

Gripping her hip, Jax balanced her on his lap as he leaned over, pulling the top drawer of his nightstand open. Fingers fumbling he found the box he was looking for. But when he looked inside it was empty.

_Shit. _

"I'm _out_," Jax said, tilting the top of the opened condom box towards Sarah. He could hardly believe his own words.

Jax had two options—either he needed to cut down on the number of girls he was sleeping with _or _he needed to remember buy condoms. Hell, Wendy had bought the box in his hands.

Sadly for him—or better yet his _penis_—neither option _one_ or _two_ would be any help to him at the moment.

"Are you fuckin kidding me?" Sarah sighed in frustration.

_No, I'm not _kidding you_, Darlin. _

_ And it looks like I won't be _fuckin you_ either._

"I _really _wish I wasn't," Jax answered smiling ruefully at her. His hands gripped her waist, as he moved to stand up, but then she pushed against his chest.

"It's okay," Sarah said, reaching down between them. "I'm on the pill."

_I bet that's what that Carlie chick told Jacob Hale Jr. _

_I'm _horny_ not stupid._

Jax grabbed her by her wrist, chuckling when she glared. "Sorry, Darlin'…I gotta get ready anyway…besides Gemma _loves _barging in here unannounced. You should have been gone already...and I wanna hop in the shower real quick."

_Preferably a _cold _one. And no it's _not_ to wake me up._

Sarah stood up, pulling his T-shirt over her head. "I could join you."

Jax had to bite his tongue to keep from commenting when his crisp white _Reaper_ Tee landed on the floor. Instead he racked his brain for his usual early morning after speech.

"Listen," Jax said, pointing down at the floor. It was a struggle to ignore the _brand new _T-shirt lying on said floor—a shirt that was pretty much a piss-poor substitute for the leather kutte he _couldn't wait_ to have on his back instead. "I have breakfast with—"

"—_Gemma?_" Sarah interrupted.

Jax nodded."Yeah _and_ my old Man so—"

"—JT left hours ago. I heard him ride off when I got up to pee earlier."

_Of course you did. _

_Apparently you also found the time to go through my fuckin closet._

"Right," Jax said, pointing towards the window. "well you have a scheduled trip through that window, unless you—"

"—unless I want to stay for breakfast?"

Jax gaped at her like, _you're fuckin with me, right?_

Sarah just laughed.

Always laughing when someone's being serious.

"That's probably not a good idea. You're father doesn't want—"

"—I think you mean _you _don't want," Sarah interrupted. Jax waited for the rattlesnake to rear its head but the honey blonde simply shrugged her shoulders. "_Whatever _it's fine. Don't let me hold you up. I should probably show my face at home anyway, before _Gloria _starts putting ideas in daddy's head again about my lack of_ boundaries._"

_Your mother might be on to something._

"Cool...Later, Darlin." Jax headed towards his bedroom door, snatching his towel off the dresser on his way there.

"Is Opie coming by to pick you up?" Sarah asked behind him.

_Jesus Christ. _

"I usually get a ride to his place first," Jax said, opening his door to step out into the hallway.

"Your mother?"

_No, Miss _Daisy_ is driving me. _

_Fuck you think?_

"Bye, Sarah." Jax pulled the door close without looking back at her.

_This_ was why Wendy was the only girl Jax kept around on a regular basis.

She knew when to leave and he didn't even have to _ask._

* * *

Jax had it in his mind to take his shower in the morning instead of the night before more often. The hot water relaxed him—as much as it _could _anyway all things considered. He bounded down the steps leading into the living room two at a time, eager to get this awkward _family breakfast _shit over with.

When he turned the corner he was sure he'd missed the news report on Hell freezing over. What he saw froze _him_—it ignited a war of his emotions. He didn't know if he wanted to laugh at the irony, roll his eyes at the hypocrisy, or yell _"What the fuck?!"_ at his mother, the Queen of keeping people on their toes.

Gemma had one trick and it never got old—she was only predictable in _one _way. You could count on her to do the opposite of what you _expected _or _wanted—_usually a combination of the two.

Like today.

Gemma turned her head, smiling over at her son from the dining room table where she sat. Sitting directly across from her, with a look of triumph that made him want throw a toddler-sized tantrum….was Sarah Hale.

"Look who _finally _decided to show his face," Gemma said. "Mornin' baby, how'd you sleep?"

"Pretty good, I'm _guessing_," Sarah commented, winking at him when Gemma wasn't looking. "He definitely _looks_ well rested."

There was a Hale in his dining room…sitting with his _mother. _

Sarah Hale—a human of the female variety was in his _mother's_ dining room at six o'clock in the morning….and Gemma was smiling instead of cursing both teenagers out for _playing house _under _her _roof.

This was the girl she called "Princess Fuck-up" and his mother was serving her breakfast.

_What the fuck?_

"What are you doing here, Sarah?" Instinct told him to omit the word _still_ from the question.

Gemma's eyes widened as she looked over at Sarah. "I thought you said you guys were planning to ride to school together…give me a day off from rushing to get him over to Ope's. Especially since I have an appointment... Luann said that...but I don't know..."

Gemma was rambling on and neither teenager was paying any mind.

_Just what he thought. You scheming little—_

"This oatmeal is _delicious _Mrs. Teller," Sarah said, as Gemma got up to put some in a bowl for her son. As soon as she turned her back, Sarah locked shrewd grey eyes with Jax's as she flicked her tongue around the edges of the spoon, before sucking it into her mouth. "Seriously," Sarah added, pulling the spoon from her mouth with a light _pop, _"I don't know how Mr. Teller isn't like three hundred pounds from your cooking…it must be his metabolism…or a whole lot of _cardio._"

Gemma was dipping the ladle into the pot on the stove when Jax rushed into the kitchen, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Thanks, ma…but I'm _really _not hungry right now. I overate last night."

Jax heard what sounded a lot like a _scoff _behind him. "Of course I get why Jax is so skinny…it's hard to get him to _eat_ anything."

Gemma turned to nod at her in agreement. "He's a picky eater. My _Tommy_ was, too."

Jax tried and failed to swallow the smile turning his lips up at the corners when he caught the annoyed expression that was on Sarah's face before his mother turned to face her.

Clearly _someone _was still annoyed because he wouldn't go down on her.

No girl could ever _really _call Jackson Teller selfish. If he didn't make up for what he _didn't _do by exceeding expectations in other areas why were they always coming back for more?

Sarah really had her signals crossed—especially when she thought it was a good idea to tell her that _"Opie did it"_, as if that was supposed to change his mind.

Sarah wanted Jax to please her? She might want to start with _NOT _mentioning some other dude—_especially_ his best friend…you know, the one she chewed up and spit back out. For all he knew, Opie going nose deep is why he ended up getting played.

Jax threw an arm over his mother, kissing her on her cheek. Softening her up was always the path to lease resistance—and it lessened the need of Tylenol for the headache she'd give him if he _didn't. _"I'm gonna go," Jax said.

Sarah slid her chair back. Standing, she picked the bowl in front of her up, placing it in Gemma's waiting hand. "Thanks for breakfast, Mrs. Teller."

"It's Gemma, sweetheart…or _Gem."_

_Oh is it now?_

"Thanks, _Gem_," Sarah said. Beaming at her like a teacher's pet presenting Gemma with an apple, Sarah nudged Jax's shoulder. "Let's go, Jax…we need to make a stop on the way."

* * *

"Where we headed?" Jax asked as Sarah pulled out of the spot in front of his neighbor's house four doors down.

_Opie's place I bet you._

Jax had a nagging suspicion that she was up to her old tricks again. Maybe _he_ wasn't the target after all.

But this chick was seriously delusional if she thought she could use _him _to get to Opie without running into Donna's waiting _fist._

Gemma had the right idea about Donna Lewis. She'd make a _perfect _Old Lady with _her_ attitude.

"Where do you think, Genius?" Sarah slapped a button below the dashboard, pulling a pair of aviator sunglasses from the glove compartment. Sliding them on her face, she turned to face him when they stopped at the first light. "We're going to pick up our best friend_. _You, me, and _Tara_…just like old times."

_I can't FUCKIN WAIT until I get my Harley._

So much for his theory about _Opie_ being the target.

Jax didn't know what the hell Tara did to end up her _pseudo-_best friend's crosshairs, but Sarah was clearly gunning for _her. _And the honey blonde had it in her head that Jackson Teller was the way to do it.

_What the hell did Tara do to you?_

Or it could be _ALL _about Jax—about marking her territory, making a statement for a girl who wasn't even the least bit interested in him...except for when she _was. _

_Maybe I should save us all the stress and tell you about the _"just friends" _speech she gave me the other night._

_Never mind the fact that Opie interrupting—like ALWAYS—was probably—HOPEFULLY—the only reason I didn't make her eat her words...right before I ate _her.

_God_damn_ it!_

It was like a tennis match going on his brain. And the neon ball was bouncing back and forth across the net too fast for him to get a hold on his thoughts.

Was Sarah using him to get back at Tara? Or did Sarah see her as a threat to her having him all to herself?

Jax didn't know which one was the case.

The only _certain _thing was that either scenario involved Tara having feelings for him—feelings that "just friends" didn't have.

And fuck him, but he _loved _the idea of that.

* * *

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	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:** 90's teenagers. #NuffSaid

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

"Well would you look who it is? It's my daughter the future Mrs. _Hale_," Arthur Knowles slurred. "Don't you have some community fundraiser to plan with Lover-boy and his mom? You're here way too early."

Tara quickly snatched the nearly empty liquor bottle he'd been reaching for on the bar countertop.

"It seems no matter what I'm never early enough," Tara said, swallowing the urge to shove him on his tired ass and go back home to maker herself a decent breakfast. "Let's go _Arthur_," Tara urged, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the stink of Bourbon leaking through his pores.

Tara turned around when she heard Opie snickering behind her.

Rolling her eyes at him she said, "I'm glad _you_ can see the humor in this."

"I'm not laughing because your father's a shitfaced mess," Opie explained, chuckling. "I'm laughing because whenever he _is _around he's _always _drunk and yet even _he _knows you're dating David..."

_And Jax doesn't have a clue. _

_Yeah, yeah, yeah._

_ You need to tell him._

_ Yeah, Yeah, Yeah. Whatever. Shut the hell up._

Ignoring him, Tara wrapped a slender arm around her father's shoulders, trying to hoist him up on his feet so they could begin their usual father-daughter drunk-step. But Arthur stubbornly kept his three-hundred plus frame rooted to the barstool where he'd clearly been sitting for a while.

After another failed attempt at lifting him up, Tara turned to the teenage boy standing next to her. "You want to help me out, Ope? Or are you waiting for me to get a hernia?"

Shaking his head, Opie brushed Tara's hands away. Effortlessly, it seemed, Opie hoisted her father off the barstool, holding him up by his shoulders until Arthur managed to achieve what little balance he could on wobbly legs. "It wouldn't kill you to say please and thank you every once in a while, Tara."

"I _do_!" Tara argued. When Opie turned towards her, eyebrows raised, Tara shrugged—a small smile playing at her lips. "Well I say _thank you._"

_Please is for beggars. I never beg anyone for anything._

* * *

Donna was already waiting on Opie's front steps. Opie hopped from the truck, heading towards the Cutlass parked directly behind him. While Opie pulled her father from the car, Tara walked ahead, house keys in hand as Opie half-dragged her father up the walk way.

They'd brought him home just in time.

Arthur Knowles was out cold by the time Opie reached his bedroom. Strong as he was there was only so much the teenager could do with dead weight. He tossed him back on the King sized mattress, telling Tara he'd, "wait in the hall," on his way out the door.

Tara resumed her usual hangover responsibilities—she put a glass of water on her father's nightstand, two aspirin next to it. She dragged the garbage can from the master bathroom to the side of the bed, and with Opie waiting in the hallway for her, she propped her father up as best she could against the assortment of throw pillows positioned on the bed in the same order she'd put them in when she made his bed up last time.

Clearly her father wasn't spending much time in here. That explained the poor shape the rug on the master bathroom floor was in.

Pulling the door closed behind her, Tara stepped out into the hallway to discover Opie was gone. It would have been a surprise that he didn't do what he said if Tara didn't remember that Donna was outside waiting on him.

Shrugging her shoulders, Tara headed towards her bedroom to get her jacket and her books for school. She was pulling her own door closed when she heard Donna yelling.

_Great. A sequel to this morning's drama. _

_Hopefully I can fast forward the love scenes this time. _

* * *

It was like Déjà vu.

Tara walked out onto her front steps and immediately her mind flashed back to yesterday on Charming High's front steps. Had they all been sitting down instead of standing at the end of her front lawn the scene playing out before her could have been an exact replica.

Well except for a few things—like Opie.

The doting boyfriend routine was winning him no points this morning.

"Babe, we gotta go. If we're late I won't have time to walk you to cl—"

_"Do I like I give a shit about that right now?"_ Donna seethed, glaring up at Opie. At the sound of Tara's front door closing, Opie's head snapped towards her. The look on his face said, _save me._

Tara's eyes veered over to Jax who was already looking at her, his lips pulling up into his signature cocky grin. "Hey track—"

"_Hey, Lady Tee!_" Sarah cut him off. She lifted the aviator sunglasses on her face up, sliding them back, resting them at the crown of her head. "_Jax and I_ were on our way to school when we decided to drop by and see if you need a ride."

"I thought you said she _knew _you were coming?" Donna accused.

Sarah didn't even look in Donna's direction. "Harry, do something with your girlfriend before I hurt her feelings."

Donna was the _only _one that was still the same as yesterday. Clearly Sarah was done with the "nice girl" act.

_Well that didn't take long. _

Opie was glaring at Sarah instead of looking at her like he couldn't believe she was there like he had yesterday. Unfortunately, openly showing his disdain for the honey blonde standing in front of them didn't earn him any points because Donna was too busy glaring a hole into Jax's face to notice.

"You're not even _in_ a relationship," Donna barked. She was glaring at the side of Sarah's face—while Sarah purposefully ignored both Donna's tantrum and her presence. "Jackson Teller doesn't _do _relationships, right? So why do you insist on bringing your latest _fuck_ with you everywhere you go?"

"_Excuse _me?"

Well _that _got Sarah's attention.

"_Enough_," Jax said, blowing out a breath.

Or at least Tara _thought _it was Jax. The tall, handsome blonde-haired teenager standing to Sarah's left _looked _like Jax but then where was the Lady Killer smile? Tara kept waiting for him to laugh under his breath. Jax _always_ found it hilarious when one of Opie's girls lost their shit and flipped out on him.

And this morning Opie had _two _of them. Double the entertainment.

Instead Jax's earlier smile was nowhere to be found—his mouth was in a tight line as he moved to snake his arm around Sarah's waist.

It wasn't meant to be intimate—Tara could tell he was just trying to hold her back, trying to stop the two girls from fighting. Opie was holding Donna the same way and Tara could _see _his attempt at tenderness.

Jax was just trying to defuse a situation. That's _all _he was doing.

But the sight of him holding Sarah back against his chest, hands holding her waist made Tara wish Donna had the strength to free herself from Opie's grip so she could kick Sarah's ass—maybe even _accidentally _hit Jax a few times.

"_Damn it_, Donna. Didn't we _just _go through this?" Opie complained. He was looking over at Tara again, the earlier request in his eyes even more urgent.

What the hell did he expect her to do? She didn't ask Sarah to come here. She damn sure didn't sign up for ten minutes in a car with Sarah _and _Jax.

But that was what Opie wanted—Tara knew it without him saying a word.

He wanted her to take one for the team.

_Not a chance in hell, _was Tara's initial thought. She'd never admit it—to _anyone_—but seeing Sarah and Jax play tonsil hockey on the steps irritated the hell out of her. She was not about to volunteer to ride in a car with them. What if they held hands again? Tara didn't want to see that shit.

Okay, yeah…she had a boyfriend. And David was really great when he wasn't helping slutty cheerleaders "stretch" but something about seeing her two _former _best friends together made her blood boil and her skin crawl.

Tara was not in the mood to deal with them—and that was why she wasn't going to.

But then she reminded herself that this was the same guy who got out of his bed at the butt crack of dawn to help her with her father.

_Fine. _

"It's not worth it," Tara said. The comment was for both girls—Donna more than Sarah. Placing a hand on Sarah's shoulder, Tara added, "I appreciate the ride but now we're gonna be late. So we should probably go now."

Sarah recovered first.

Donna had finally stopped struggling but she looked ten times angrier than she was before.

Sarah simply smiled. "You're right…_she's _not worth it."

_Not what I said, _Tara thought. But judging by the look on Donna's face she may as well have.

"Let's go, Opie," Donna said, turning to walk towards his truck. Tara watched as Opie opened the passenger side door for her, closing it behind her once she climbed inside. Before Opie's door shut all the way Tara heard Donna gripe, "_If this is your definition of _'on our side' _I'd rather Tara just switch teams._"

"So much for the lollipop guild," Sarah joked as the truck pulled off. Tara rolled her eyes even as she smiled. It was comments like _that _that reminded her why Sarah and her had gotten to be so close. Sometimes it was like they shared the same thought.

Tara reached for the handle to the front passenger door, but Sarah swatted her hand away. "Nope. Sorry, Tee. You gotta sit in the back. Jax already called shotgun," Sarah said, looking over at Jax.

Jax shook his head. "No I didn't."

Sarah shrugged, unapologetic—about twisting Jax's words? Or making up her own altogether? Tara didn't know which one was the case. But she did know that it was shit like _this_ that reminded Tara why they _weren't_ still as close as they were before.

She was always trying to manipulate someone into doing what she wanted.

"Whatever, Sarah. The back is fine." Tara moved to open the back door.

Jax brushed her hand aside this time, nodding towards the front. "Go ahead. You can sit in the front. I don't care."

"It's fine, Jax," Tara said, reaching for the handle again. Jax slapped her hand away again. When Tara looked up to glare at him, the playful version of the Lady Killer smile was beaming at her.

"I _said_ you could sit in the front," Jax argued. "You know _me, _babe_. _I'm no stranger to the backseat of a car." Jax winked at her and Tara shook her head, biting her lip to keep from giggling.

_Of course you're not…MAN-WHORE._

_You probably already christened this backseat with Sarah, _Tara thought.

And just like that her smile vanished.

Jax's smile fell as soon he saw hers disappear. The confusion was clear in his expression, but he'd be holding his breath a long time if he thought Tara was going to explain how she went from being amused to being annoyed.

And really, did that girl _ever _explain anything to him?

It was a read-off in the front of the Knowles residence. Jax and Tara trying to gauge each other's feelings based on their facial expressions.

And Sarah was happy to interrupt that the way she did everything else.

"Weren't you the one saying we're gonna be late?" Sarah walked around to the driver's side. "Front seat, back seat. Flip a coin or just pick. It doesn't really matter. Just _get in_."

Sarah stood, driver's door open, her eyebrow cocked as she waited for them to make a decision.

Tara was reaching for the back door handle again. This time instead of knocking her hand away, Jax placed his hand on top of hers. Tara hoped her face wasn't as red-hot as she felt.

"I have an idea," Jax said, his eyes bouncing between the two ladies on either side of the car. He gingerly pulled Tara's hand off the handle before pulling the back door open himself. "How about neither one of us gets shotgun? We can sit in the back together. That's fair, right?"

Jax didn't wait for a response. He climbed into the backseat, sliding over, behind the driver's seat. Dipping his head down to peer at the amused brunette still standing on the sidewalk, he made a show of patting the empty space next to him. "Come on, babe. Back seat's only _fun_ with more than _one_. Come keep me company," he said wriggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Tara laughed as she ducked inside to join him in the back. "Yeah, okay. You better keep your hands where I can see them, Teller."

"Whatever you say, babe." Jax shrugged his shoulders. But the sly smile on his face made it clear he had zero intention of making _that_ promise.

"What's with the _Babe_ thing?" Sarah said from the front of the car as she slammed her door shut. The honey blonde turned around even as she twisted the car keys in the ignition. "What is that your new nickname or something? That why you don't like _Lady Tee _anymore? You do realize Babe is like a _pig_?" Sarah cocked an eyebrow at Tara.

Tara giggled. "He's not _like _a pig. He _is _a pig. I can't believe you actually remember that book."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "How could I forget it? You and Gloria were always going on and on about how it was one of the best children's books…that is should be made into a movie _someday_…"

Tara shook her head. "You know normal kids call their parents _Mom _and _Dad."_

"You call your dad _Arthur_," Sarah challenged.

Tara shook her head again, a wry smile on her face. "Being someone's father _biologically _doesn't make you a _parent._"

"It damn sure doesn't," Jax said. Tara turned her head towards him, frowning at the bitterness in his voice.

_You and JT still haven't made up?_

Tara wished they were alone so she could ask him. She'd feel like shit if her outburst in detention had caused a rift between Jax and his father. Outlaw or not, John Teller was the father Tara would have liked to have—one who both loved _and _cared about his family…even enough to do horrible things if it meant protecting them.

Tara envied that. She didn't want to ruin it.

"_Whatever," _Sarah snapped. "I don't know how we went from talking about Jax calling you babe the pig to you lecturing me about my relationship with _my _mother—"

"—_there _you go," Jax teased. "She's your _mother_ not _Gloria…_nice job, Knowles. Maybe you can teach Mrs. Ferlito to call me Mr. Teller instead of _Meester Tay-lor."_

Tara giggled—although it was more at Sarah's scowl than Jax's wisecrack.

"You want to be called Babe the pig, be my guest," Sarah said, turning around to pull off from the curb. "I just don't think it's a good idea to draw any extra attention to your _thighs._"

_Fuck you_, Tara thought to herself. But she still couldn't resist looking down at her legs.

When was the last time she'd gotten on a scale anyway? Yesterday _was _her first day stepping foot inside a gym in years…

Tara turned towards Jax—she hated herself for it, but she wanted to see the look in his eyes, see if he agreed with Sarah's observation.

Only she couldn't meet Jax's eyes.

She couldn't meet them because he was too busy staring at the thighs in question. When Jax finally did look up, baby blue eyes locked with Olive green and Tara had her answer.

He didn't agree at all.

Jax leaned towards Tara—and her breath hitched, eyes widening until she realized he was only going to whisper in her ear. "Personally, I think the shorts you're wearing takes care of that…and in case you didn't know…when I call you _babe_ I'm not talking about a pig."

_DUH. _

Tara already knew that. And she knew that Sarah knew it, too.

But damn it, if hearing him say it didn't make send the butterflies in her stomach fluttering.

Every girl Jackson Teller addressed was always _Darlin'. _ Tara could hardly stand the nicknames her best friend gave her—and she had a nagging suspicion Sarah was responsible for _Nerdvana _in particular—but the pet name Jax used to charm girls out of their panties? Tara hated it with a passion. He only ever tried the "Darlin" thing with her once and after the rant she went off on he never did it again.

She wasn't exactly sure when he started calling her babe—or more importantly when she started letting him get away with it.

But at the moment, knowing it ticked Sarah off made it impossible for Tara to swallow the self-satisified smirk on her face when she saw Sarah's nostrils flare out a lot like Donna's had been doing before she stormed off to torture Opie in private.

For once, Sarah wasn't the one getting all the attention. Tara was the brain _and _the beauty these days.

And it felt pretty damn good.

* * *

Jax's elbow was propped up against the backseat, his head leaning against the palm of his hand. He sat sideways, his right leg tucked under him as he faced the animated brunette who was sitting in the back seat next to him, in pretty much the same position.

"I _swear_ it was like a firecracker went off!" Tara clapped her hands together hard as she told Jax about _Part one_ of the "Opie &amp; Donna" morning soap opera.

Jax chuckled. "Well you know Opie loves the crazy ones."

"Or the _high maintenance_ ones," Tara added.

Chuckling, Jax and Tara looked up towards the front of the car. Their eyes met Sarah's glare in the centered rearview mirror at the same time. Instead of feeling awkward or even guilty they both just laughed harder.

"What girl was Donna accusing Opie of cheating with anyway?" Sarah asked as she turned the last corner, headed down the strip that lead to the Charming High School parking lot.

Tara and Jax rolled their eyes at the same time. They caught themselves doing it and started laughing all over again.

Everyone in the car knew exactly what girl Donna was upset about. Tara didn't even mention a name when she was relaying the story of what she'd overheard—to Jax, not the chick they'd forgotten was even in the car with them.

She knew it would be stating the obvious.

And there was no mention of cheating accusations. Sarah was once again adding her own twist to things.

"It doesn't matter," Tara said. "Donna's way off base. Opie _loves _her."

"Of course he does," Jax agreed. "Why the hell else would he put up with her crazy ass? Donna is the perfect example of why I _don't _do commitment. I will never be Opie."

_Why does it feel like you're sending a subliminal message to someone in the car? _

_And which one of us was the message for? Me or Sarah?_

_Sarah, definitely. _

_There's no way that warning was meant for me. I'm the one that gave _you _the just friend's speech. _

_I set the terms. _

"I think you're full of shit," Sarah commented from the front of the car. "All you need is the right girl to come around…show you what you could be missing out on and you'll be in the bowl covered in pussy whip just like _him_."

Jax scoffed at her. "Yeah, okay. You got a specific girl in mind?" When Sarah reached up, sliding her aviator sunglasses down the bridge of her nose to wink at him directly, Jax smirked at her, adding, "Trust me, Darlin'. Pigs will fly before that ever happens."

"Get ready to grow wings, Tara," Sarah joked. Tara flipped a middle finger at her through the rearview mirror.

"I can't believe I'm saying this but I actually agree with her, Jax," Tara commented. "It happened to Opie. It'll happen to you, too. And God help you when you do find the girl you can't get out of your head. You've got a lot of bad karma with the ladies, _Prince Charming_. Whoever she is, that chick's gonna rip your heart out of your chest and make you eat it!"

Jax's smile faltered. Tara couldn't decide _what _emotion had taken over his handsome features. She just knew it had riled the butterflies up again. "_Is that so__?_" Jax bit back, but the sarcasm in his voice didn't change his expression a tick.

Suddenly Tara felt hot all over. She needed to look away from him but when she turned her eyes forward they were met with mischievous grey ones.

"I'd actually pay good money to see the girl who could manage to make her way past the _Queen of Bikers_," Sarah commented. "Trying to get Gemma's approval is a little like waving a red flag in front of a bull...and we both know what a _momma's boy_ Jackson is."

"Oh, great. We're _here_," Jax cut in, looking out of his passenger side window into the crowded school parking lot.

Tara looked around. She hadn't even realized when they'd stopped. It was amazing how Jax always managed to make her oblivious to her surroundings whenever he'd give her one of his signature "_I bet you can't guess what I'm thinking_" stares.

"Speaking of Gemma," Sarah continued, obviously in no hurry to get to class like the rest of the students walking through the lot—or Jax, who was already reaching for the handle. Sarah turned all the way around, smiling over at Tara. "She made me oatmeal this morning—"

"She made _me _oatmeal. You were just—"

"It was _amazing_," Sarah pressed on, her voice rising over Jax's. "But what's even more amazing is that I managed to survive a whole meal with Gemma Teller without the fact that her and my father can't stand each other making things awkward. Check this out…she even told me to call her _Gem_. Can you believe that shit?"

_Gemma Teller favoring you over any other chick? Gemma Teller favoring you because she knows it gets under your fathers skin? Not shocking at all._

_The only surprising thing is that _Jax_ invited you to breakfast with him and his parents. Wasn't he just saying he wasn't Opie?_

"Actually I can," Tara admitted, turning to push her car door open. "She always liked _you."_

"True."

"Thanks for the ride, Sarah," Tara said. Without looking at him, she added a quick, "see you in class, Jax," before walking off.

She didn't bother waiting for Jax even though they had first period science _together_. She knew it was rude and perhaps even a little petty but Tara shrugged it off.

It's not like he ever bothered to show up to first period anyway.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: **The pot loves to talk smack about the kettle, duddn't he?

-**V. Lady Crow**

* * *

Jax watched, hand resting against the top of Sarah's car as Tara hurried off in the opposite direction.

_I should sneak in your house and slip LEAD in all your shoes. See how fast you move then._

Sarah was by his side just as soon as she'd clicked the alarm on with the button latched to her key-chain. "I stand corrected. _Tara's _the cranky one in the morning."

Jax shrugged her arm off his shoulder. "She wasn't cranky until you brought up Gemma. Why you always gotta twist _that _knife?"

"Why am I the only one not allowed to call my parents by their first names?"

"I'm serious, Sarah." Jax sighed. "And the shit you pulled with my mother this morning? Don't do that again. I meant what I said, Sarah. I don't want that kind of relationship."

Sarah smiled, shaking her head at him. "You're reading into things. I didn't even mean anything by it. I decided to see if your mother wanted a break from driving you to school, that's all. _She _invited me inside for breakfast."

_SIX WEEKS. My birthday is in Six weeks. I get my Harley in six weeks. _

_Six weeks and I can ride the hell off and say fuck you to everyone._

"You were trying to manipulate me," Jax argued. "Didn't you learn the last time we were together? Things stopped being fun for me when you decided you wanted more…when _you _decided to try and control me."

"_Bullshit. _It stopped being fun for you when you found out your best friend had a thing for me," Sarah shot back. The _late bell _sounded. They both ignored it. "And no, Jax, I didn't _forget. _It's hard not to remember when the guy you're sleeping with—the guy who sleeps around _just as much_ as you do—calls you a whore—

"—what did you expect? I'd just found out you—"

"—slept with Opie? Big deal. How many of my friends had you fucked? _All of them_ unless you count Tara. You get a pass but I don't?"

"It's not the same thing—"

"—_Why_? Because he caught feelings?" Sarah shot him a look of amazement. "How many hearts you break, Jax? It doesn't matter if you never tell the lies all the others boys tell. You don't have to say _I love you _or pretend you want more than a quick nut. The girls _you _run through end up in the same boat as Harry...or _Opie _as that angry fuckin _midget_ calls him. You and me are the same and you know it. it's why we get along and it's why you don't _want _us toget along. You resent the fact that _your _actions hurt someone you actually give a shit about. You didn't want to take responsibility so you took it out my brother's face instead. Well _too bad_, Jax. Those wounds have healed and the facts still remain the same. The prince doesn't always get what he wants."

Jax stood there in silence. If there was a valid argument against everything she'd just said to him he couldn't even begin to think of it. He couldn't even bring himself to be annoyed by the smile of triumph on Sarah's face.

Sarah leaned in to him, hand on his chest as she pressed her lips to his. The kiss was lighter than usual, barely giving the pink tint of her lip gloss a chance to leave a mark on his mouth. "I'll see you later," she said, walking off before he could respond.

It wasn't like he had to.

She was probably right—she'd probably end up naked and on top of him before the day was over.

She was _definitely _right about everything she'd said prior.

Jax hated it worse than when his mother was right about something.

Love wasn't a part of this equation. There was no question of that. But as much as it irked him he felt a mutual understanding—if not respect—threatening to rear its head.

_"You headed to class?"_

Jax turned around at the sound of his best friends voice.

_Speak of the fuckin Devil._

Jax's eyebrows shot towards his scalp. "What's up, bro? I'm surprised you're not already in class. Donna take your leash off this morning?"

"Asshole," Opie barked even though they were both grinning. "She hopped out of the truck and took off into the school before I could get a word in. I took that as her way of saying she didn't want me to walk her to class."

_Looks like Tara's already rubbing off on her._

"How about we take it as a free pass on _going _to class?"

Opie chuckled. "You never go to first period. Why do you even show up?"

"You're already in the bowl," Jax answered, smiling. "I'm trying to stop you from you from drowining in it."

"What?"

"_Pussy whip._" Jax ducked, backing up as Opie swung on him. Jax's smile spread wider when Opie stopped charging towards him to stare at the freshly rolled joint in the Ziploc bag Jax had pulled from the deep pocket of his Jeans. "Come on, Ope. You never cut school any more. Take a break from being _Donna's boyfriend _for a day. Let's go get high in the sheriff station parking lot. Give Unser something to do beside sip vodka from his coffee mug."

Opie glanced over at the school building briefly before walking past Jax, punching him in his side. "Trucks parked over there. _Let's go_….she's already mad at me anyway."

Jax fell in step with him as they walked towards Opie's truck. Jax was reaching for the door handle when someone giggled behind him.

It was a familiar giggle—an annoying one. A giggle that sounded a lot like the Christmas bells that wouldn't stop chiming on his next door neighbor's house last winter—the same neighbor who called the cops on him when she saw Jax taking a fuckin plier to every cord that kept the irritating Holiday decoration running.

_Maize O'Keefe._

He knew when he turned around he would see Maize standing behind him. Jax also knew she only laughed that obnoxiously when she was trying to draw attention to herself.

What he didn't know or rather what he didn't _expect _was to see her running her firecracker-red nails down David Hale's chest.

Suddenly she looked over at him, eyes widened—like she was surprised to see Jax standing there.

"Hey, Jax," Maize purred, fluttering her eyelashes like a cartoon character. "I was just asking David about the first game of the new season. Can you believe it's almost Thanksgiving already?"

Jax bypassed all the bullshit she was talking, choosing comment on the _real _reason she was giggling loudly and pretending she didn't see him. "Hey, Darlin." Looking over at David he, said, "You know you can do better, right?"

David glowered. "Funny, I could say the same thing to someone else we know."

_Who?, _Jax wondered to himself. He knew he wasn't talking about Wendy.

Jax started to go down the list of female's he and David had in common and couldn't think of a single one off the top of his head. David went for the snooty bitches. The one's that thought you had to work for it...like a fuckin slave.

Maize was actually a surprising change. Not bad, especially since she'd gotten better with watching her teeth.

_You can thank _me_ for that, Douche bag. _

"Jax," Opie called from the other side of the truck. "We going or what?"

"You should head to class, Maisey," Jax said as he climbed into Piney's truck to do the exact opposite. Grinning at her he nodded his head towards David. "Don't let this douche bag keep you from getting an education."

"Says the asshole that's skipping school," David snapped. Then he pressed the auto-lock button attached to the car keys in his hand. A soft beep followed after his car door's locks clicked up. Pulling another set of keys—more specifically a ring of them—from his CHS letter-jacket, David started walking towards the school. "Let's go, Maize. I'll let you in the office on my way to class. This is the _last _time I'm doing this for you. Coach is gonna have my ass if he….."

David was too busy grumbling to realize Maize hadn't started walking behind him yet. She was too busy looking inside the pickup truck in front of her. Peering over at Opie she smiled bashfully—or at least that's effect she was going for.

"You'll have to forgive _my boys_," Maize joked. "They just can't seem to get along."

"Bye Maize," Opie said, shaking his head as he pulled out of the parking spot.

Jax tossed her a good-natured wink, if for no other reason than to—

Maize's giggle somehow managed to get ten times more obnoxious _and _louder.

David turned around, immediately noticing the gap between him and the girl he was doing a favor for. As Opie drove past him, the angry jock sent Jax a death glare that burned hotter than the sunlight beaming in through the windshield.

* * *

The drive through the parking lot was quiet, not even the radio playing.

When Opie finally pulled out of the school gates, Jax couldn't bite his tongue any longer.

Jax turned towards his best friend, a single eyebrow raised. "You gonna tell me why you were looking at him like that?"

Opie kept his face forward. "Who?"

_I'm surrounded by people who like to play dumb._

_I'm starting to think it's not an act._

"The _douche bag_." Jax's tone of voice screamed _DUH. _

"I wasn't looking at him," Opie responded making a sharp turn around the corner.

_Lying ass. _"Yes. You _were. _You were looking at him like you want to punch him in the throat. That's supposed to be my role. Since when do you hate Hale? What did he flirt with Donna or something?"

Opie shook his head. "Nah. I'm just starting to see what you're talking about."

"Being vague and evasive is my _mother's _role. What—"

Opie turned to glare at his best friend. Jax eyes widened in surprise. "Shut the fuck up, Jax. We didn't even light one up yet and you're already killing my buzz playing twenty questions."

_Definitely something about Donna, _Jax assumed._ That's only time you give _me _that look._

Jax held his hands up in mock surrender. "Case closed, bro," Jax stated. _I'd rather steer clear of your chick problems anyway._

Opie was making the final turn towards his block when Jax had an idea. "Let's go to the Club House. I think Gemma has some shit to do with Luann up in Lodi…so we should be in the clear until school hours are over."

"If she _is _there she's going to chop both our dicks off," Opie commented, making a U-turn anyway. "Donna's _really _gone' be pissed if that happens," he added, looking over at Jax.

As soon as their eyes met both teenagers burst out laughing. And Opie's moment of weirdness was forgotten—just like everything else that ever threatened to cause an argument or rift between them…it was swept under the rug where it was sure to stay.

Opie Winston and Jackson Teller could never stay mad at each other for more than a minute.

Who else was going to put up with them and their bullshit on a regular basis? Donna? Wendy? Sarah? Tara? Gemma, maybe?

Nope. Not unless they put up with _them _on a regular basis, too.

And that was not happening—they needed regular _breaks _from the special brand of crazy females brought into the mix.

* * *

Sarah was right.

Jax did see her later. He saw all of her in fact. And seeing the top of her head was a personal favorite of his. Jax heard her voice through the wall when she walked in the club house, asking Kyle, "Where's Jax?"

Jax already had his _fuck off _speech ready for her but when she stepped in the dorm room, locking it behind her Sarah didn't say a word to him. She pulled the zipper down on her dress and shimmied it down to her feet before crawling up the freshly made bed he'd been lounging on.

He didn't have to argue with her. And she'd even toned down the porn start routine just enough for him to actually enjoy _her _instead of tuning her out. When they finished she gave him some bullshit excuse about why she had to go—an excuse Jax happily accepted as he moved to roll another joint.

Whether it was the effect of his high from the joint he and Opie had already smoked earlier or the fact that he could actually enjoy some peace and quiet instead of talking after sex—when Jax finally got up, he'd been thinking about what a laid back afternoon he was having as he walked out into the Club house hall to go look find Opie and share the joint he just rolled.

Opie wasn't in the club house so Jax walked out to see if he was across the lot at the garage.

When he spotted Sarah's car still in the lot, initially he shrugged it off, assuming she was probably somewhere flirting with the prospects—or Kozik. Sarah loved throwing her underage ass at _Kozy._ Jax had no doubt that if he Kozik didn't think his Old man would break his neck for fuckin a teenage girl—which JT _would_—Sarah would have already gotten her way.

When Jax saw a familiar white Honda pull in next to Piney's pickup, automatically he knew his peaceful afternoon was over. He held a hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes from the sun to get a better look at who was in the open garage.

Yup. Just as he thought.

_Shit._

He spotted them in the same second the Honda's driver-side door slammed shut, a soft click and a beep following. Opie was leaning against a truck Lowell Sr. was twisting a wrench underneath. Standing close enough for the toes of their shoes to touch was Sarah. She ran a hand down Opie's arm, giggling when he knocked it away. Opie was glaring at her so Jax knew whatever he was saying to her wasn't polite.

Unfortunately Jax also knew that all Opie's girlfriend would see is the _ex-girlfriend _he _looooveed_ pushing up on him. Nothing less than him shoving the honey blonde to the ground would satisfy Tinkerbelle.

Sarah on the ground was the only way Donna would be tall enough to kick her in the head.

"Hey, Jax," Donna said. Clearly she hadn't noticed them when she pulled into the lot. "Where's Ope?"

"I think he's in the Club house," Jax lied. He breathed a sigh of relief when Donna smiled. Nodding her thanks, the raven-haired girl walked past Jax to go find her man—probably to apologize for her latest overreaction.

As soon as the Clubhouse door closed, Jax took off across the lot.

"_I know it was _you," Opie seethed. "You're always starting shit. I wish Jax would find another—"

"—Sarah!" Both Sarah and Opie turned at the sound of Jax's voice.

Sarah grinned, jabbing a thumb towards Opie. "This fool thinks I had a heart to heart with his girlfriend…as if she'd give me a chance to talk before her fist is in my mouth."

Jax ignored her, wrapping a hand around her wrist. "It's time for you to go."

"Why, what happ—would you stop pulling me?!" Sarah yanked her arm out of his grip. "We're just talking…me and _Opie _have some catching up to do. And it's really none of your business. You _don't want that kind of relationship_ remember?"

"It's not about me."

"Then what is—"

"ARE YOU FUCKIN KIDDING ME?"

It was like a scene from a movie—in slow motion.

Opie stepped out of the garage.

Sarah turned around to smile at him.

Jax could actually _see _the tiny wrinkles on Donna's scrunched up nose as she drew her hand back.

Sarah was right for the second time that day.

When she turned back around, whatever sarcastic comment she had for Donna never made its way past as her lips.

Donna's fist knocked that shit right back down her throat.

_Jesus Christ. I should introduce _you _to Lumpy Feldstein._


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: **Sometimes LIFE IS A ZOO.

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

Tara felt like a lion.

In a cage.

At the zoo.

And everyone she knew was showing up to watch her suffer through her 4 P.M to 9 P.M captivity.

A lion was the perfect metaphor considering she was ten seconds away from biting that snot-nosed kid who had shoved a shopping cart into the back of her foot with when his _momeee_ wouldn't let him have the Cinnamon toast Crunch because "It has too much sugar in it".

Tara had been stocking the shelves at the time. She'd just finished when the shopping cart running into her sent her and the stool she'd been standing on flying forwards, her hand knocking the neatly stacked boxes off the shelves as she reached to balance herself.

When the young mother hurried off, pulling the brat by his hand without so much as an "I'm sorry" Tara had nothing but murder in her heart when she reached for the price tag gun on the bottom shelf.

God only knows what she would have done with it if Keith hadn't stepped into the aisle to tell her he needed her to, "_head over to register four_" because they were "_swamped with customers_" and Carlie needed to take another "_bathroom break"._

_Baby momma Hale needs to either do her job like the rest of us or stay her hobbling ass home so someone else could cover her shift AND her workload._

_That's what the fuck she needs._

Tara walked past Mr. Whitman, standing on line next to his wife while she complained about the shirt he was wearing.

_I bet you that's the excuse he uses when he trying to get sympathy from the students he screws. "My wife's a bitch and I'm lonely and misunderstood…oh and by the way this blowjob will count as 95% of your grade."_

Mr. Whitman smiled at her and Tara waved at him—or waved him off, she wasn't quite sure which.

* * *

Tara was just opening up register four. The checkout's conveyer belt _whirred _to life as soon as she pressed the button. Seconds later someone was already dropping their groceries on the belt as she cracked open a fresh roll of quarters and dimes for the register.

"_Good afternoon,_" Tara droned, not looking up yet. "Thank you for shopping at Monroe's. Did you get a chance to check out the new items on sale for this week?"

"I never read the sale's paper," said familiar voice. "I already know what I want before I enter the store and I leave as soon I get it."

Looking up at him, Tara wondered why the stink of greed and corruption didn't tip her off _before _Judge Hale addressed her.

Tara didn't even bother responding. She snatched up the first item on the belt—a twelve pack of the sparkling waters Tara recalled Gloria Hale drinking all the time—and aimed the barcode scanner at it.

"So I see you and Sarah are still close friends," Jacob Hale huffed, as she began putting the first of his items in a plastic grocery bag. "She hasn't even been back a week and you're already getting her into trouble—"

"—you see the sign right there?" Tara interrupted. "It says _we reserve the right to refuse service—_

"—Do I need to speak to your manager?" Jacob puffed out his chest.

_Always with the goddamn threats._

"What I was _trying_ to tell you is that _the store_ reserves the right to refuse service to anyone," Tara continued. She pointed at her chest. "_I _reserve the right to ring up your stuff, swipe that American Express card you love to flash, and tell you to pack your own groceries."

"Excuse me?"

"We usually leave that part of our service to volunteers or idiot coworkers who don't know how not to screw up anything else. I'm neither one of those. SO, moral of the story? _Bag up your own shit. _And you can tell my manager I said that…when she's finished talking to her boyfriend on the company phone."

"You kiss your daddy with that mouth?" Jacob sneered. "How is father _Blotto _anyway? Still sleeping in his own vomit I'm guessing…All that money you got him and he couldn't spare a couple thousand to check into a rehab? I guess your mother's cancer fried _his _brain, too. What an idiot."

"It was breast cancer, _asshole_," Tara growled. "You'd think you know that seeing as your _wife_ organized a fundraiser to help her. How much of that money did you keep for yourself anyway? I wonder if Gloria knows one of her _fifty_ tennis bracelets almost cost me a roof over my head. How do you think she'd feel about _that?_"

Jacob leaned in towards her, his palms pressed against the counter. "You threatening a judge, little girl?"

Tara leaned closer to him, green eyes locked with his. Then she shoved the box of sparkling waters off the belt, sending it crashing on top of Jacob Hale's three hundred dollar shoes.

Glass shattered, water splashed—and Hale jumped back, looking down at the aftermath.

"You _little_—"

"—No I'm threatening _you_," Tara snapped. "Take the rest of your shit and leave before I tell security you're harassing me. You might not realize but not everybody in this town is in your pocket. And you'll have even less friends if I start talking about what you did to me. The gag order never protected _you. _Your _children_ did…and my compassion is wearing real thin for _both _of them these days. _Stay the hell away from me_. I stopped being afraid of that gavel in your hand a long time ago."

Nostrils flaring, Jacob's shoes crunched over the broken glass as he moved to bag up the rest of his stuff. "Looks like hanging around that Outlaw del—"

"_Is everything okay here, Judge?" _

Tara and Jacob Hale both turned to face the woman standing behind him.

_Great. And the circle of "reason's Tara Knowles might end up in Juvie" is complete._

Jacob began angrily throwing random items into plastic bags. "Tell your son the _next_ time my daughter comes home with—"

"—I'm going to stop you right there," Gemma interjected, holding up her hand. "…before _you_ end up with a black eye to match hers."

_What?_

Jacob snatched his groceries from the wheel of plastic bags. ""Sometimes I think this town is too small," Jacob griped, walking away.

_Yeah, and not nearly as _Charming _as it claims to be._

Tara was reaching for the carton of eggs Gemma sat on the conveyer belt when Gemma's snickering forced her to look up.

"What the hell happened here?" Gemma said, her voice singsong. "You and the Hale's haven't kissed and made up yet? I thought for sure you were over here plotting to get me locked up _again_."

Tara tilted her head like a cobra deciding how it wanted to strike. "Why would we do that? _You still serving alcohol to minors?"_

A nasty smile spread across Gemma's face as she nodded her head. "One day that smart ass mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble."

_FUCK THIS. _

"And _one day _you'll realize you're not a fuckin psychic. Until then go find someone else's future to read." Before Gemma could get another word in, Tara pulled a thick, red block from underneath the counter, slamming it in front of the eggs she'd been about to ring up. "This checkout counter is closed. Go get on one of the other lines."

Keith, the Assistant Manager's eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open as Tara stalked towards him. Instead of fearing the consequences for being rude to a customer, Tara patted him on the shoulder. "_Clean up _at Register four. I'm taking my break now."

If Keith knew what Tara knew about sexual harassment laws he'd mind his own goddamn business.

That and call the maintenance guy to take care of the glass and sparkling water on the store floor.

* * *

Keith ended up calling Amber end to cover Carlie's shift. Karen Monroe had rushed her out of the store even as she lectured her on being a drama Queen.

"It's probably just Braxton Hicks!" Karen clucked as she escorted her half-waddling best friend out of the store.

Tara wasn't sure about the Braxton part of it but _HICKS_ sounded just about right to her.

Throughout the course of the night Tara ended up resuming the role of cashier—register six this time.

The herd of customers had finally thinned out. Only a few patrons remained.

One of them was yet another familiar face.

"Hey, Tara."

Tara looked up from the crossword puzzle in her hand. "It seems like everyone and their bitchy mother decided to go shopping today. Did I miss the announcement that Thanksgiving is three weeks early this year?"

"You can put down the weapon," Donna joked, looking at the barcode scanner Tara had just picked up. "I'm not here to be a bitch….I came to apologize for being one earlier. I'm sorry. I shouldn't take my shit out on you."

_Well since you said it._

"No you shouldn't."

Donna nodded, a small smile playing at her lips as she placed three boxes of cake mix on the counter. Tara immediately zeroed in on her fully bandaged right hand.

Tara winced, shaking her head. "You shouldn't take it out on Opie either…and I hope his face looks better than your hand probably feels."

"About that," Donna started. "I might have bloodied your best friend up a bit."

"_Jesus Christ_, Donna, I was kidding." Tara's eyes widened. "Why did you—what did he—"

"Not him," Donna corrected. "_Sarah_…I think you know the what and why to that."

Tara shrugged. "She tends to have that effect on people. _Ask and you shall receive_."

Donna giggled. "So you're not mad then?"

"Why would I be mad? You didn't punch _me_ in the face. And seriously Donna, I wouldn't recommend it with the shift I've been having. You might not get to make your chocolate cake," Tara said holding up the container of chocolate frosting in her hand, scanning the barcode on it.

"_German_ chocolate cake," Donna elaborated. "It's Opie's favorite. Ope says Piney's coming back from the cabin tomorrow so we're ordering Chinese and staying up late to play cards and hang out. We're trying to get in all the fun we can... my parent's come back from picking up my grandma tomorrow, too actually…"

"So _that's _why you snuck out! Just when I think you're finally learning how to rebel. _Sarah_ will be disappointed it wasn't about her though..."

Donna's eyes narrowed. "You were listening to us this morning?"

Tara snorted. "Not like I had to try very hard…although I would have preferred not to hear your other umm…_conversation_."

**_Ka-ching!_**

The cash register dinged open and Tara handed Donna her change.

"Thank you," Donna said, wisely choosing not to comment on the admission currently making both of their cheeks red. "You want to stop by the house when you get off? If so we can wait for you…"

Tara nodded. "Should I bring wine?" she joked.

Donna's answering smile was wide. "Opie found Piney's stash drawer. I think we're covered."

_Let the good times roll._

_I'll make my drunk daddy proud._

"See you soon, then."

* * *

**N**EX**T CHAPTER: **T**EQ**U**IL**A** DO**E**SN**'T** L**I**E….unless your name is Tara Knowles.**

**WAIT, **_WHAT?_


	22. Chapter 22

**"I'm an _expert _at that!" says every guy...especially the ones who are the exact opposite of what they claim.**

\- **V**eritable **Old** Lady **C**row

* * *

Jax leaned his head back, guzzling the rest of the beer in his hand. "You need to stop flipping out on Ope, Donna. He's a teenage boy and you got him smoking like three packs a day," he joked.

Instead of laughing Donna's eyes narrowed. "I'm responsible for Opie's smoking habits? Interesting. Whose responsible for your alcohol addiction?"

Jax let out a loud burp, laughing when Donna wrinkled her nose. "I don't have an addiction. I just know how to loosen up."

Donna snorted. "So do the females you sleep with…apparently some of them even like having their _teeth_ loosened."

"Cocky doesn't suit you, Tinkerbelle," Jax teased. "You should stick to paranoid and pissed off. You're more entertaining that way."

Donna rolled her eyes. "Didn't you just tell me take it easy on your best friend? Make up your mind, Jax. Think you can do that every once in a while. Tara's a lost cause at this point but I'm still holding out hope that you'll figure out what the hell you want."

_Here we go. And you wonder why I need weed and liquor to be around you longer than ten minutes._

"What the hell does Tara have to do with you being a harpy all the time?"

"_Harpy?_" Donna cocked an eyebrow. "Jesus. You guys even talk the same."

Both teens looked up as the front door open. Opie walked in first, Chinese restaurant bags in each of his hands. Jax ignored him completely, his focus on the girl walking in behind him.

Tara.

"Hey _Lady Tee_," Donna mocked, giggling when Tara rolled her eyes.

"What's up, track star?"

Tara's eyes were on the ceiling again. "You know what? I'm starting to warm up to the idea of babe the pig as a nickname.

Donna choked on the drink she was sipping from the plastic cup in her hand. "You want to be called _what_?"

"Long story," Jax answered, grinning over at Tara. Smiling back at him, Tara's eyes never left his as she pulled her jacket off.

"Here we go," Opie commented dryly, walking back towards the kitchen.

"Here _what_ goes?" Donna turned to ask Opie's retreating back.

"_You'll see_."

Donna turned around just in time to see Jax pouring Tequila into two shot glasses, grabbing the one on his side of the coffee table as Tara picked up the one meant for her.

They knocked them back, sitting the glasses on the table at the same time.

"So," Tara said. "What are we playing? Crazy eights? _Gold fish_?"

Jax winked at her. "How about we test out your _poker _face?"

"You think you can read _me_?" Tara challenged.

_In a card game, yes. With everything else? I'm screwed._

Donna scoffed. "I don't even know how to play poker and I bet I can beat both of you."

"Anybody can beat _them_," Opie commented, sitting the two bags in his hand on the floor—one between him and Donna, the other between Jax and Tara napkins on the table. "Jax and Tara are the easiest people to read."

Jax pulled a deck of cards from inside the otherwise empty book bag behind him on the couch. Shuffling them twice, he moved to begin dealing them out but Donna swatted his hand.

_Wrong guy, Tinkerbelle. Your yes man is on the other side._

"Let's eat first," Donna suggested—well demanded nicely.

Tara reached her hand inside one of the bags on the floor between her and Jax. Feeling around she pulled her hand out, a pair of chopsticks in between her fingers. "We'll be here eating until tomorrow if you expect me to use _these_. What's a girl gotta do to get a fork around here?"

Jax leaned over her grabbing the Tequila bottle on her end of the table. Pouring two more shots he slid her glass closer. "Drink that first. Then I'll show you how to use them."

Tara cocked an eyebrow at him. "_You _know how to eat with chopsticks?"

Jax nodded. "Ask me nicely and I'll even feed you with them."

"Any excuse to put something in a girls mouth," Tara joked.

Instead of responding, Jax winked at her.

Across from them Donna groaned or maybe it was Opie—or both of them.

"I think I'm starting to _see_," Donna complained.

Opie chuckled. "You think this is bad? Just you wait. They're still _sober._"

Jax and Tara clinked shot glasses, both throwing them back at the same time. "Let's see it, Teller."

* * *

Jax didn't know how to eat with chopsticks his damn self.

Donna and Opie ate with their chopsticks in silence, laughing every so often when Jax or Tara tried and _failed _to bring the food to theirs lips without most of it falling back into the carton or on the floor."

"Well you can go ahead and scratch surgeon _and _teacher off your career list," Tara joked. "You suck at this."

"That's because I'm trying to teach you the _traditional_ way," Jax explained. "This isn't how _I _eat noodles."

Jax could tell Tara was already intrigued. But when she looked over at Opie and he shook his head her curiosity doubled. "Show me your way then," Tara requested.

"Don't do it, Tara," Donna urged, swallowing her smile.

Jax dipped the chopsticks back into the carton in his hand. "You ready?"

"For what?"

Jax grinned. "You gotta catch it before it falls, Okay?"

Tara nodded as her eyes narrowed in playful suspicion.

Jax slid closer to her, the carton in his hand hovering below their chins.

Jax's hand flicked up at the wrist and the clump of noodles in between the chopsticks were airborne, between them.

Tara jerked forward, catching the Lo-Mein in her mouth. Judging by the way her eyes widened she didn't anticipate Jax doing the same thing—at the same time.

They both caught it, too.

There was a bridge of noodles between their lips and Jax was wasting no time sucking them into his mouth, his face drawing closer and closer to Tara's.

Before he could get close enough for their lips to touch, Tara pressed the noodles between her fingers, severing his ties to her mouth.

Opie and Donna giggled. Tara stuck her tongue out at him and Jax rolled his eyes. "You _had _to ruin the moment, Knowles"

"This how you and Opie eat Chinese together?" Tara teased. "_Uh-oh_ Donna…I don't think you should be worrying about _girls _stealing your man."

"Opie did the same thing to me the first time I came over," Donna admitted. "Prince Charming's stealing his material."

A liquored up Jax scoffed. "Oh please. If that's the case _he_ stole it from Sarah_. _She's the one that was obsessed with Lady and the tramp. You remember, Tara?"

Tara cleared her throat, tucking her hair behind her ear. "umm…sure. Yeah I remember…"

"Jesus Christ," Opie mumbled under his breath. The sudden silence in the room made it easy to hear him however.

"How are things with you and your _boyfriend_, Tara?" Donna snapped, her eyes narrowing to slits. "You should invite him to come join us. Maybe Jax can show _him_ how to use chopsticks."

_As what? Weapons? Cuz if so I think he'd benefit more if _you _taught him._

It was like flipping a switch. Donna was insufferable for the rest of the night.

They couldn't even enjoy the chocolate cake she made in peace—and it was fuckin delicious.

Tara ended up ghosting off into the kitchen—carton of food in hand—and got a fork, choosing to eat it standing up next to the fridge.

That left the two teenage boys to deal with her nitpicking.

Five minutes—and about fifty different _failed _attempts at fixing his slip up—later Jax gave up. Shrugging at his friend, he walked out of the living room, Half empty Tequila bottle swinging in his hand as he headed towards Opie's room for the extra pack of cigarettes he knew he kept in his desk drawer.

* * *

Jax was laying on his back across Opie's bed when the bedroom door opened, closing back with a soft click.

The circle of lamps in the center of Opie's ceiling fan were off. The only light seeping into the room came from the window. But the darkness did nothing to hinder Jax's vision. He knew it was Tara without even looking in her direction.

"You used to be the _happy_ drunk," Tara commented. "Now you're the sleepy drunk apparently."

Jax shook his head, eyes facing the ceiling. "I'm neither one. I'm the _horny_ drunk."

Tara's light laughter whistled through the air as she walked towards the bed. "I don't think that has anything with the liquor."

Jax turned his head, looking over at her. "You're probably right."

Tara pushed against his shoulder. Jax took the hint and slid over to the other side of the bed. Tara lied on her back next to him. "What are you doing in here if you're not tired?"

"What do you think?" Jax turned towards her. "I'm trying to avoid death by chopstick…._shit _if I wasn't so drunk I'd take a page out of your book and hop out of Ope's window…take cover from the angry munchkin in his living room."

Tara giggled. "What is _wrong _with that girl? Even if Opie did have feelings for Sarah, does she really think being a raging bitch all the time is going to keep him from cheating?"

"That's the problem with you females," Jax said, propping himself up on his elbow—head resting against his palm. "You girls always doing shit backwards."

Tara snorted. "Not _us _girls. Just _that _girl. I wouldn't behave like her."

Jax scrunched his lips to one side of his face. "That so? _Okay_….What would you do if _your _boyfriend's ex was hanging around?"

"Nothing," Tara answered. "I'd trust him do the right thing…and then kick his ass if he did the wrong thing instead."

Jax shook his head. "Well get ready to kick his ass then…because sooner or later he'll do it."

"What are you an expert?"

"On cheating? _Hell yeah,_" Jax said. "I'm the guy girls cheat _with_…and plus I _am_ a guy so I know how guys think. Trust me, if he thinks he can get away with it he'll do it."

"I never said I'd let him get away with it," Tara argued.

"Well would you forgive him?"

Tara rested her head against the pillow on her side, staring up at the ceiling. "_Maybe_…probably…I mean we're all human. People make mistakes."

Jax chuckled. "That sounds like something only a person who _makes_ a lot of mistakes would say."

Tara shoved him in his chest. Jax grabbed her wrist before she could draw her hand back, holding it over the steady thump of his heartbeat. "I think... sometimes you have to make the same mistake a few times before you realize it's the wrong thing."

Tara snatched her hand away when Jax's response to her admission was to throw his head back on his pillow and laugh.

"Fuck you, Teller."

"I'm not laughing at you, babe," Jax explained. "I'm laughing at _all of you. _All of you girls are the same just like I said. You fly into rages for no valid reason. When your boyfriend's being a dickhead you take him back over and over because _it was a mistake _and he promised not to do it again. And if that's not stupid enough you go out of your way to make guys that aren't even interested in you jealous."

"When have I _ever_ done any of the above?" Tara challenged.

"I can get you from zero to pissed off in ten seconds flat if I wanted to. You denying that?"

Tara scowled, proving his point. "That's because you're an asshole."

"You basically just told me you'd forgive your boyfriend for cheating on you with his ex," Jax continued.

"Not even close to what I said but okay _Sarah_…and the jealousy part?"

Jax shook his head. "That particular brand of crazy isn't on you, babe. I was talking about Maize O'Keefe with that one."

Tara smirked. "What about her?"

"She tried to make me jealous with that douche bag Hale today. It was a pretty damn good idea picking the one guy I hate the most, but she's seriously nuts if she thinks I'd _ever _be jealous of Davey boy. Any girl he fucks I've already been with twice."

"You caught her with David?"

Jax shrugged, reaching for the Tequila bottle to his left. "It's not like they were hiding. They were in the middle of the parking lot. What the hell is up with those Hale's and parking lots? I heard his brother knocked that Carlie Jacobs chick up in the Monroe Market lot," Jax said, laughing.

Jax turned around when he didn't hear Tara join in with him. The look on her face made him put the bottle back down on the night stand. "What?"

Tara laid back on the bed, folding her hand over her stomach. "Nothing."

"You're doing it again."

"What?"

"All of a sudden you're angry with me and I don't know what I said...even if I was sober I'd be confused. You gonna—"

"—there's nothing to be confused about, Jax," Tara interjected. "I just don't share your amusement at the fact that Jacob Jr. is an idiot that knocked a girl up and left her."

Jax sighed beside her. "I thought alcohol made people tell the truth." Jax reached for the bottle again handing it to her. "Maybe you need a little more Tequila in your system."

Tara took it, turning to place it on the night stand on her side. "I'm fine, Jackson. I'm just tired that's all. I guess_ I'm_ the sleepy drunk after all."

Jax reached over, tapping a finger against the tip of her nose. "What's going on? That cute nose of yours should be _growing_ by now."

Tara turned her head towards him. "I have a cute nose?" she asked, eyebrows rising as a sarcastic grin spread across her face. "I hope you use better lines than that on all the girls you're sleeping with."

Jax ignored the last comment, more focused on the rhetorical question she posed. "You have a cute everything." Tara rolled her eyes, turning to lay flat on her back again. Jax slide closer to her. "Actually…I take that back. Cute isn't the right word…it's more like _hot_," Jax amended before gently tugging at her earlobe with his teeth.

Tara sat up rod straight, her back against the headboard. "_Okay_, Teller. I think _you_ need a little less Tequila in _your_ system."

Jax laughed when she peeked over at him through her lashes instead of facing him. "I disagree. Being drunk is actually perfect for me right now."

"How's that?" Tara asked the wall on the opposite of the room.

"You have a boyfriend," Jax answered.

Tara's head snapped towards him, her eyebrows scrunching together. "_And?_"

"Sober me has to be the good guy…the one that doesn't hit on his _just friend_," Jax explained. "But you want to know something?"

Jax's lips were on hers before she could blink.

Tara gasped in surprise and he took advantage, deepening the kiss, his tongue tangling with hers. Tara wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him in towards her but Jax gripped her waist, pulling her over into his lap.

Their tongues danced, a slick rhythm that had him threading his hands in her hair. Gently nudging her head to the side he placed a hot, wet kiss on her neck. For some reason Jax's mind flashed back to the fading hickey that was on her collarbone before. Tara's moan vibrated against his lips as Jax began sucking a bruise along her throat, making his own mark—a brand that was sure to last more than a day.

Jax was slipping his hands underneath her shirt when Tara grabbed both his wrist. Pulling back she pinned him with her gaze, emerald eyes sparkling even in the darkness. "Tell me," she asked. "….tell me _something_."

Jax smiled. Leaning into her, his breath tickled her ear. "_Drunk _me doesn't give a fuck," he finished. Then he slid his hands up her back.

Unclasping her bra, Jax circled around to her front, palming her breast in his hands. Tara moaned low in her throat, her nipples hardening underneath his touch. Jax dropped his hands from her breasts, but her whimper of disappointment was cut off when he crushed his lips to hers. Flipping her onto her back, Jax's hips were a perfect fit as he slid in between her thighs. Tara wrapped her legs around him. Folding her legs behind his back, she pulled him in tighter, and Jax groaned into her mouth as she pressed against him. Jax had to wriggle his hand between them to slide the button of her jeans through the loop, yanking her zipper down right behind it.

Suddenly the bedroom door creaked open and light seeped into the room. "What the hell are y'all doing—"

"GET THE FUCK OUT!" Jax shouted, looking up to glare at the teenager standing in the door.

Opie chuckled. "This is _my _room, asshole," Opie said but he still stepped back out into the hall, pulling the door shut behind him.

"You'd think he'd be more upset that we're about to have sex in his bed," Tara observed.

"And I don't give a damn _which_ but _one _of you is washing my fuckin sheets!" Opie shouted through the door as an afterthought.

Tara and Jax burst out laughing at the same time.

Jax raked a hand through her hair. Brushing it behind her ear, he cupped one side of her face. "I think he's a _little_ upset."

"I changed my mind," Tara cracked. "You're an _angry _drunk."

Jax shook his head, grinning. "I'm just tired of him always interrupting me when I'm with you."

Tara rolled her eyes. "Right. Because we do this all the time."

Jax brought one of her hands up to his mouth, brushing the tips of her fingers lightly against his lips. "I'm not just talking about this…it doesn't matter where we are and what we're doing. I can never get five minutes alone with you without someone popping up like a fuckin poltergeist."

Tara giggled. "I'm usually happy for the distraction," she admitted.

"_Honesty_," Jax chimed, his eyes widening. "It's about time that liquid courage kicked in…" Jax leaned down, the tip of his nose pressing against hers, his lips parted, just barely touching hers. "Tell _me _something, Tara….were you happy for a distraction this time?"

Tara's smile faltered. Pushing against his chest, Tara sat up, turning to face the bedroom door when Jax reluctantly lifted up off of her, sitting up behind her. "Not at first," Tara admitted.

_Why the FUCK did I ask her that? _

Jax swallowed hard. "And _now?" _

Tara shook her head. When she turned to look at him, her eyes were glassy. "I'm not doing this on purpose, Jax. I _swear._"

Jax wrapped his arms her, his hands folded into a tent on her stomach. "I know," he said, kissing her shoulder. "Trust me. I'm not either. _I_ swear."

"I can't have sex with you," Tara said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You _can't _or you don't _want _to?"

"I have a boy—"

"—that's not what I asked you." When Tara didn't respond Jax sighed, moving one of his arms from around her waist to reach for her hand, threading her fingers through his. "_People make mistakes_, huh?"

"Yeah," Tara agreed. "We all do."

Tara's words were an echo that stirred something deep inside him. Jax didn't know what it was—he just knew it felt like shit.

"Maybe it's not a mistake," Jax wondered out loud. "Maybe you're just acting on what you feel…it's—"

"—I swear to God, Jax. If you say _fate_ I'm banning you from ever reading Shakespeare _again._"

"Come on, babe," Jax said, tracing circles around her navel with his fingers until she squirmed. "Does that sound like some shit I would say?"

"I don't think we should say anything anymore," Tara admitted. "Something tells me I didn't drink enough to forget it in the morning."

"If you _did_ we wouldn't even be talking right now."

"You're probably right."

Jax crawled backwards towards his side of the bed, laying on his side. It was as if she could feel him staring at her—as if she could sense what he was asking with her eyes.

Without even looking back, Tara wordlessly scooted backwards, stopping only when her back was against his chest. She reach a hand around, pulling his arms around her. And they laid there in silence.

For a little while anyway.

"Tara?" Jax whispered against the back of her neck.

"Yeah?"

"I'm so _fuckin_ hard it hurts."

Tara giggled. "I can _tell._"

"Well then call you move over a little bit? _I'm gonna need a minute_."

"Sure..sorry," Tara answered, sliding away from him.

The chill hit him like an avalanche—and Jax found his hands involuntarily gripping her hip.

"Never mind," Jax said, pulling her back against him again. Her hair smelled like vanilla and honey. The scent washed over him, intoxicating him in a way all the liquor in his system could never accomplish, as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. "I can handle it…it won't be the first time you tortured me."

_And something tells me it won't be the _last, Jax thought, as he closed his eyes.

* * *

When Jax opened his eyes two minutes later he immediately noticed three things.

One—two minutes was really two _hours_.

Two—Opie was snoring on his bedroom floor.

And three?

Tara was gone. She'd slipped out when he fell asleep.

_Whose stealing whose material _now?


	23. Chapter 23

**Skip, **skip,** skip to my** lou,

**Skip to **my lou**, my Dar**lin'

\- **Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

Tara spotted his car a couple seconds too late.

She'd already reached back up to pull Opie's window closed. And when she turned around David was leaning over the railing of her front steps, looking at her like she was Big Foot.

"Tara?"

Tara rushed to the front of the house, cursing under her breath when she realized she didn't have her house keys—again.

"What are you doing here, David?"

"Did you just climb out of Opie's window?"

_Sounds like you already know the answer. No worries though._

_I'll play along._

"No," Tara lied. "I was in my backyard."

"What were you doing in your backyard then?" David questioned behind her as she bent over to try to find the key she'd hidden in the front yard somewhere.

_Digging your grave for when you finally make me snap._

Where the hell had she put it? This was why drinking and maintaining basic cognitive function didn't mix.

Sarcasm was her only functioning ability.

"You're lying, Tara. I saw you," David accused.

Tara spun around, steadying herself on the railing. "And I saw _you, _asshole!" Her temper still worked fine, too. "And it turns out I'm not the only one seeing you around with that Maize O'Keefe _bitch_!"

"Are you _drunk?_"

"What's the matter? You think I'm turning into my daddy? I'd be more scared of turning into my own father if I were _you_."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Tara stuck up her middle finger. "_Fuck you_. That's what it means."

"Tara, nothing is going on with me an Maize," David explained. "It's not what you think—"

"—I'm bored with thinking about anything that has to do with you, _Davey boy_."

"I guess that answers my question as to _who _you got drunk with…and who's feeding you bullshit to turn you against me."

"_Whatever._" Tara moved to walk past him, but David held her in place, one hand on her shoulder, the other nudging her head to the side.

"Is that a _hickey_?"

"Get off of me." Tara jerked away from him.

David glared at her. "You're such a hypocrite, Tara. You call _me_ a Liar? You cut _me_ off for cheating on you?" David pointed at her neck. "Where the fuck did _that_ shit come from?"

Even in her slowly fading Tequila haze, Tara had the decency to look guilty.

David shook his head. "I'm the biggest idiot in the word. Here I am trying to make you jealous and you're fuckin Teller."

"I am _not!_"

"I guess Sarah was right," David continued as if she never spoke. "It only works if the person actually gives a shit. Clearly you don't."

"I never said that—"

"YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO!" David pointed at the mark on her neck again.

Tara's eyes snapped towards the window she'd vacated moments before.

David followed her line of vision. "Is he in there now?" David walked around her, headed through the middle of the two houses, Tara on his heels.

Tara placed a hand on his shoulder. "David, don't—"

David whirled around and she stumbled back balancing herself on the side of Opie's house.

"_He's an asshole, Tara. _He'll have a gun in his hand before he gets a diploma and he goes through girls like they're items on a shopping list. And yet you chase after him like he's going to treat you any different. _You _know he's just going to hurt you in the end. It doesn't matter if he does it purposely or not, it all ends the same way. What the hell do you even see in him? I know it's not his looks. You're not that shallow, Tara."

"It's complicated—"

"—then let me _simplify_ it for you," David interrupted. "Right now you're the thing he can't have so he's chasing you…but that's all it is. It's the chase. He's just playing a game, you're the trophy and as soon as he wins he'll put you up on the shelf and move on to the next season. _I'm not waiting around to be your plan B._"

"You're not a plan, Dav—"

"—I love you, Tara. _Not_ him_. I _do. Why can't you just let me? And stay the hell away from him."

"He's my friend—"

"_Bullshit_." David violently jerked his head left to right. "Friends don't suck on each other's necks."

"_I'm sorry._"

"Do you even want to be with me? Or am I just your security blanket for when he's too busy screwing other girls to hold your hand. Do you love me?…Do you love _him_?"

Tara raised her hands, her fingers stinging as she slapped them down against her thighs. "_I don't know_."

David moved towards her. Closing the gap between them, David grabbed her face, an almost bruising grip on her cheeks as he crushed his lips to hers.

It was all Tara could do to keep up with the frenzied tempo—the movement of his lips, the ways his tongue lashed out at hers.

When she reached up, snaking her hands around his neck, he pulled them off of him, stepping back.

"_Figure it the fuck out,_ Tara. I'm done taking all the blame. All my cards are on the table now. It's your move, baby."

Tara was still leaning against Opie's house when David's car pulled off from the curb.

_What hell are you doing, Tara?_

Tara climbed into her dining room window, tripping over a cap to one of her father's many finished bottles of bourbon on her way to her bedroom.

* * *

The next morning Opie was waiting for Tara, sitting on her front steps when she stepped outside, pulling the front door shut behind her.

"No three musketeers this morning?" Tara commented as she twisted the lock on the door, shoving her house keys down into the front pocket of her shorts.

The sun was beaming down on them and Tara was happy she'd done the smart thing—she'd popped the advil _before _she got ready. Wincing at the brightness of day aside, Tara's hangover was nonexistent.

Thank god for drunk daddy-day camp. That and the gift of youth.

"Jax went home dipped out shortly after you did," Opie explained. "I think he went to meet up with Wendy."

"I haven't seen her around in a couple days," Tara droned. "I bet they have a lot of _catching up _to do."

Opie chuckled. "I think Donna's rubbing off you. That passive aggressive bullshit is why I'm sitting out her waiting for you instead of driving to pick her up."

"What happened?" Tara asked, sitting down next to him.

"That Hale asshole contacted Donna's parents. They came home early…grounded her for breaking curfew and getting into a fist fight."

"_Shit," _Tara hissed. "I guess if he can't go after Gemma he needs another target."

"What does Gemma have to do with anything?"

Tara stood up. "That's right. I forgot to tell you about my favorite day of work to date. I'll tell you on the ride. I don't want to be late."

"Of _course_ you don't." Opie smirked, falling in step with her as they headed towards the truck.

* * *

Tara was just finishing up on the Gemma part of her shift when Opie pulled into a parking spot on the school lot.

Neither one of them noticed the familiar car parked a couple rows over as Tara waved her hands in front of her, fully animated as she rehashed the story.

"...so I told her exactly where she could shove her tarot cards—

"—you told her to shove tarot cards up her ass? Really?"

Tara slapped his arms. "Shut up. You never heard of paraphrasing stupid? This is why Donna forces you to go to all your classes. You need your education, _Harry._"

"I love her, Tara... but I don't know how much longer I can put up with the crazy."

"I'll try to talk to her in English—"

"—like you did last time? Nah, I'm good. It's my shit. I'll handle it."

"As you wish, champ." Tara shrugged. "Good luck with that."

Opie cocked his head to the side. Tara mushed his hand way when he poked the purpling bruise on the side of her neck. "I'm curious…what excuse are you gonna give the douche bag for that hickey on your neck?"

_Since when do _you_ call him douche bag?_

_Hmmm…maybe he caught David flirting with Donna or something._

_Wait, no. He'd tell me _that.

"He saw it last night," Tara admitted. "You're not the only one on probation. I got it covered though. I told him it was Dracula. Vampires have that glamour shit. I can't be held responsible."

Opie chuckled. "There's nothing glamorous about Jax. I don't give a shit how many girls he gets. He dresses like fuckin Farmer John. I never knew plaid existed in so many colors…"

Tara cocked an eyebrow. "How do you know I wasn't talking about _Kyle_? I hear he has a thing for me."

"I know because he wants to _wear_ a reaper on his back. He doesn't want to _meet _one," Opie said, grinning.

Tara folded her arms across her chest. "What are you my big brother now or something?"

Opie plucked her on her forehead. "I wasn't talking about _me_ and you know it."

"Whatever…and you wonder why I don't feel bad about Donna."

Opie fixed his mouth into a mock-pout. "You don't feel a _little _bad?"

"Okay…maybe a little…"

"Thought so."

"Come on _Big brother Opie," _Tara teased. "You know what? I'm gonna talk to Tinkerbelle anyway. Do the whole girly bonding thing in English."

Opie shrugged. "I'm still not helping you with David. Unlike you _I_ can pick a side. And I'm backing your _vampire."_

The first period bell rang.

Opie held his arm out, bending it at the elbow. Tara linked hers within his and the two of them walked arm in arm—Tara giggling as she tried and failed to get Opie to _skip-to-my lou_ with her through the parking lot.


	24. Chapter 24

**Seeing is **believing**.**

**Or is **believing** seeing?**

**I think people only see what they want to believe. Well…**sometimes** anyway.**

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

**P.S: This chapter almost didn't make it. I **hope** you guys like it. I had to force myself to post instead of highlighting everything and pressing [**delete**]. #truestory**

* * *

Opie Winston was one lucky son of a bitch.

Because if heat vision actually existed, Jax would have already turned his best friend into a human torch when he set his ass on fire with the glare he was shooting him.

Opie and Tara were leaning against Piney's truck, laughing and whispering to each other like the High school prom King and Queen that everyone secretly wished would get pregnant and break the fuck up already.

That's what Jax saw in his mind anyway.

When Tara's rubbed her hand along Opie's arm, Jax wanted to take a tire iron to his best friend's Humerus bone.

When Opie tickled her neck, making Tara giggle, Jax wanted to give his friend a bruise that was entirely different from the one he'd branded on Tara's neck the night before.

When Opie flicked her forehead and Tara laughed Jax wanted to punch him in _his _forehead.

And when Opie puckered up his lips like he waiting for a kiss, Jax reached for the handle on the car door.

"Easy there, Tiger," Sarah said from the driver's side. "They're just talking, Jax."

_"Just talking_ is the reason for all that make up caked on your face," Jax taunted.

Instead of reacting, Sarah looked back out across the lot through Jax's passenger side window. "You gotta admit…they do look cute together….they're just like you and Tara _used_ to be….well sort of."

_I should have let Donna get a few more punches in before I pulled her off of you._

"Shut up, Sarah."

"They'd make a cute couple. I actually think—"

Jax spun around to glare at her. "—you think this shit is funny don't you?"

Sarah giggled. "Kind of. Yeah, I do…._relax_, Jax. It's not like we have any proof its true…although if it _is _I think it'd be best if we shared a little family history—"

"—well I _don't!"_

_And they're friends just like Opie said. Friends as in _friends_. Not _our _fucked up version of friends._

"No need to get hostile," Sarah warned. "I'm following your lead, Darlin. If you think we shouldn't say anything I won't….but you know how chatty I can get. Sometimes things just slip out…"

Jax pulled the lever on the car door, pushing it open. "I'm going to class."

_Before I kick your annoying ass._

"See you soon," Sarah called after him as he swaggered off towards the school building.

* * *

The last time Jax stepped foot in his science class was the third week of school.

He'd promised the new secretary in the main office that he would go to all his classes for the first month without cutting any of them. But the Club put everybody on lock down the last week of September, otherwise he would have honored his word. Jackson Teller always strived to keep the promises he made.

That's why he didn't make them often.

But Miss Breann? The twenty something with the tight ass and no gag reflex? She could have gotten an extra month out of him if she knew better.

She was the reason he'd found out about Mr. Whitman sleeping with students. _Takes one to know one_ was Jax's guess.

"_Jackson Teller,_" Mr. Elkridge exclaimed as soon as he stepped into the room.

Everyone turned their heads to gape at him in shock.

Tara was the first one to turn back around and resume her conversation with that damn band geek Jax recognized from their third period math class.

_Is this the boyfriend you'd forgive?_

_HA._

_I bet you only said that shit cuz you know he'd be stupid to cheat on you._

"Morning, Mr. _Ell," _Jax said, staring over at Tara.

"You're late," the science teacher commented. "Although I suppose it's a miracle you showed up at all. You're like a solar eclipse, young man."

The whole class laughed but it was Tara's giggle Jax honed in on. "Do I just pick a table or what?"

"I just finished pairing everyone in groups of two," Mr. Elbridge announced. "I suppose I could stick you in…._hmm_…where should I—"

Tara turned back around. The small smile on her face almost looked like an invitation.

But then her eyes widened briefly, before she rolled them, turning back around.

Seconds later, Jax didn't have to wonder why.

_"Is this Mr. Elbridge's class?"_

The teacher turned towards the classroom door. "Yes. That's correct," he said, adjusting the glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose.

"I just transferred here two days ago," Sarah explained, handing him the paper in her hand. "Guidance is still working out the kinks in my schedule."

"I see," Mr. Elbridge said, scanning the paper. "_Wonderful." _The middle aged man looked up at Jax. "Looks like I'll get to keep my groupings of two after all. Teller, _Ms. Hale, _grab a test kit and booklet. Get to work."

* * *

Gemma was waiting for him at the door when he got home. His father was in his usual spot at the head of the dining room table, reading a novel. The second he looked up him, Jax was ready to cave.

To hell with all the anger, he missed his father. And if him feeling guilty about what the club did to Tara was the trick to getting JT to come out of the catatonic state he'd been in these past few months Jax was willing to swallow his own disappointment and patch things up—be a family again.

But then Gemma sat down with them.

And before his father could get a word in Jax's mother was lecturing him on Tara, casting all the blame on her. If _SAMCRO _was a company, Gemma Teller was its spokesperson. And _Tara_ was the Salmonella outbreak that started their PR nightmare. JT was blameless, according to Gemma. He did what he had to do for his family, she explained. That's what men do, "they know how to make the hard choices," his mother told him.

Gemma Teller was way off the mark and she didn't even know it. She thought it was the threat of retribution from the Club that saved her ass when really Tara did it for her son.

And Tara never wanted to cause his mother—his family—trouble to begin with.

Looking in his father's eyes he could see through the mask JT normally hid behind. That was how he knew his father understood what was bothering him the most. It wasn't that he threatened her. Jax threatened people all the time and he always followed through.

So that was the question.

Tara doubted it.

Opie didn't believe it at all.

And Jax didn't _want _to believe it but he knew he'd never get right with his father if he didn't ask him point blank.

What if Tara hadn't done what they wanted? Would JT sit back and let it happen? Let his brother's take care of his problem for him? Hurt a teenage girl? Or would he _be a man _as Gemma says and handle it himself. Jax always thought he knew his father. But lately he had him questioning everything, even the men he'd always hoped to share a patch with when he was old enough to prospect.

He had to ask him outright. The truth was waiting for him, he knew it by the wistful expression on his Old man's face. But what he couldn't tell was if he'd love or hate the answer.

Jax sat in strained silence as his mother ranted about the girl who'd been "nothing but trouble" since she gave Jax the chickenpox. He wasn't really listening. And when Gemma finally left to go take care of something at _TELLER-MORROW, _Jax grabbed his hoodie and walked out, leaving his father at the table. He wanted to talk to him, sure. But there was someone else he wanted to talk to. JT made Jax wait all this time for him to let him back in.

_You can wait a few hours_, Jax thought as he pulled the front door shut behind him.

* * *

It was a happy coincidence.

Jax was about four blocks up from his house when Piney's truck drove past him. Seconds later the pickup pulled in at the curb several feet ahead of him. Jax opened the passenger side door, climbing inside without saying a word. He was enjoying the silence, it was the reason for him walking.

Opie had other ideas.

"So what are you running away from home or something?"

Jax smirked. "No, asshole. I needed to clear my head."

"How is it that we're teenagers and we're always the ones clearing our heads about something?" Opie wondered out loud.

Jax shrugged but Opie was too busy make a left turn to see it.

"Piney's back," Opie said.

Jax nodded. "Do you think he'll notice?"

Opie snickered. "After the damage you and Tara did? _No shit._" Opie leaned down, reaching his hand down towards the floor on his side of the truck. When he pulled his arm back up, there was a familiar glass bottle in his hand that had yet to be opened. "I got you covered….I snatched from the Club house when Kozy wasn't looking. Even if they do notice its missing they'll probably just blame the prospect."

Jax and Opie laughed together.

"That's fucked up, bro," Jax said. "I appreciate it though. Better Kyle than me."

"So…where we headed? Piney or Clubhouse?" Opie asked, as he stopped at the light.

"Actually, I want to go see Tara," Jax admitted.

"_Wow,"_ Opie said. "Too bad Donna's still pissed at me. She would have loved to hear this shit….Jackson Teller just said _Tara _and the word _want _in the same sentence."

"_Shut the fuck up."_

* * *

Jax felt silly knocking on her front door.

He could hear the music blasting all the way from her front yard. When he looked over at Opie, his best friend offered him no explanation or comment. He just laughed, shaking his head as he walked towards his own house. When no one answered, Jax craned his neck to peek through the window but the blinds were too shuttered for him to make out much, so he took a gamble and pushed the front door open.

Tara was in the middle of her living room—_dancing_.

She wasn't stressing, wasn't biting her nails in frustration. She didn't look conflicted or confused.

She was just…dancing.

Jax briefly wondered if Tara had been wrong. Maybe she_ had_ drank enough to forget the next morning. But when she turned twirled around, hands high above her head, her eyes widened and he knew the alarm wasn't because she was surprised to see him standing behind her.

Maybe it was at first, but he saw the moment when her mind flashed back the night before. _There _was that confliction he'd been expecting—that and every other emotion he was feeling reflected back at him.

But then her face change. She swallowed it all, a mischievous smile spread across her face.

This was Tara sweeping it under the rug—hoping he'd fall in line like always and just let it go.

_Nope. Not today._

Jax walked over towards the stereo, turning the dial for the volume down.

"Just make yourself at home, Teller," Tara snarked, walking up behind him.

Jax turned around to face her. "_Tara, _last—"

Tara leaned in close to him, pressing her nose against his. Slowly, she shook her head _no_—the most playful of Eskimo kisses. Then she reached around him and cranked the volume up even louder than it was before. Grabbing his hands, Tara pulled him back towards the center of the room, shaking her hips to the music.

Jax shook his own head this time, pulling out of her grip. But then she started _voguing._ It was the worse Madonna impression he'd ever seen in his life. And it didn't even go with the song.

Tara shoved against his shoulders. At first he thought it was because he was laughing his ass off at her, but then she mouthed, "Dance with me," and he realized she _actually_ expected him to join in and dance with her.

Jackson Teller didn't dance. All the cardio he did on Saturday nights was strictly behind closed bedroom doors.

_HELL NO. I'm not—_

Tara's smile fell.

Jax couldn't believe this chick had the _nerve_ to pout—fake pout at that. Like he couldn't tell she was full of shit. How many girls had tried to guilt him into doing shit with no results? Jax would need more than just his fingers to count them all out.

But the brunette standing in front of him now seemed to have the blueprint on how to get her way with him. Every string he had, she knew just how to pull on it.

_Fuck it._

Jax started shrugging his shoulders up and down to the beat and Tara's giggle rippled straight through him, warming his chest even though it didn't quite carry over the music.

"_Check this out_," Jax shouted—trying and failing to talk over the music.

He transitioned into the most malfunctioning Robot dance Tara had ever scene. He couldn't hear her voice but he watched her mouth moving. She was too busy bouncing and twisting around for him to make out everything but he definitely caught the word _Tin Man_, when she pointed at the stiff movement of his arms.

Jax reached out to pull her into him but she scooted back, never once losing her groove. He lunged towards her again and she side-stepped, sticking her tongue out at him. Pretty soon he wasn't even trying to grab her. He was simply mirroring her movements. When she rocked her hips to the left, he was right there with her.

When the song changed, Jax took a couple steps back from her. Tara's eyebrows briefly knotted together in confusion but then he abruptly broke into the scariest _running man _in the history of dance moves.

Tara leaned back almost falling over the back of her living room couch. She gripped her knees, keeling over, laughing at how ridiculous he knew he looked.

Jax came over to talk to her.

He was here to confront her—and he _would._

Just as soon as they got tired of making fools of themselves, with Jackson Teller being the biggest fool of the two of them.

Jax moved in towards her, pulling her back up on her feet.

Tara was sandwiched between Jax and the back of the couch, moving against him.

It didn't happen until she twisted around, one hand reaching back, her palm curled at the back of his neck.

It wasn't until she rocked back against him.

That was when he realized that _sober _him didn't really give a fuck either. But this time he wouldn't tell her. He wanted to show her, and when he spun her around, picking her up by her waist to prop her up on the back of the couch that was exactly what he intended to do.

Then the music died.

Tara craned her neck over his shoulders to see what happened. Her eyes widened, she shoved his hands off of her hips, and Jax turned around to see her father leaning against the counter above the stereo, an open bottle of bourbon in his hand.

"Well _this_ is new," Arthur Knowles half-slurred, before taking a long swig from the bottle in his hand. He and Jax had twin expressions of disgust as they looked at each other from across the room. "So you're fuckin _SAMCRO Junior, _huh? I guess you got tired of the other one…._Harry _was it?"

Jax couldn't help spinning around to study her expression. He felt like shit but it was a relief for him to see her nose wrinkling in disgust instead of eyes widening in shock at being outed.

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about, _Arthur_," Tara said through her teeth.

All her father did was laugh. He didn't even look in their direction again. He just turned the corner leading into the back hallway of the house, tipping his head back as he guzzled down his favorite meal of the day. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Your mother was a biker whore, too. Why should you be any different?...You better make sure this one wraps it up," Arthur tossed over his shoulder. "Bikers don't make time to take care of their own kids…"

_I wonder if Tara would be okay if you just went missing one of these days, you stupid, ungrateful son of a bitch._

Jax reached for her without looking and all he felt was air. He turned to see Tara had moved away from him. When he turned his head she was sitting on the couch. Her shoulders were shaking, her hairs a long, thick curtain of brown, concealing her face.

Jax walked around, sitting down next to her. He didn't know what to say to her. But he knew he had to say something. "I'm sorry your Old man's such an asshole."

Tara's head jerked up, and the suspicion in her eyes made it chest feel tight. "You sure that's _all_ your sorry about?"

_Huh?_

"What are you talking about, Tara?"

Tara cocked her head at him, her eyes narrowing. "My Old man, the asshole? You were watching him…but I was watching _you_. If _he's _the asshole why are you the one that looks guilty about something?"

_Jesus Christ._

"I just think it's shitty that you have to deal with that all the time," Jax lied.

Tara shook her head. "He calls my mother a biker whore all the time…always going on and on about _SAMCRO, _but my father's a lazy drunk so most days I just ignore him…..but you looked like you knew what he was talking about. You want to tell _me _what he was talking about?"

It was the first and only G_et out of jail free!_ card Tara had ever given him. Never before had she ever granted him the opportunity to throw her own words back at her until now. Twenty-five seconds left on the clock, and this was Jax's Hail Mary pass.

And he knew Tara would only let him use it once.

"_Not now, okay?"_

Tara's eyes widened. "What do you _mean_—"

"—I trust you, Tara," Jax urged, "so you need to know it's not _that. _And you're right I do know…_something_. But it has nothing to do with"—Tara's eyebrows rose, and Jax switched gears—"okay, it _does _but you're not the only one involved."

Tara looked down at her lap. "So my mother was like a croweater or something?"

Jax chuckled before he could control himself. When she glared up at him he sobered up pretty damn quick though. "_Nah_, babe. It's nothing like that." Jax moved over, closing the space between them. He placed a hand on her knee, pressing it over hers. "I'm not saying I can never tell you….It's just gonna take a minute—"

Jax stopped short when Tara rolled her eyes, smiling at him. "_Don't push it_, Teller. You're already trying to use the excuse _I _gave _you _for your own benefit…Jesus, Jax. Do you or Opie ever go to English class? Didn't anybody ever teach you how to paraphrase? You're stealing my words verbatim."

"Actually," Jax corrected, "I'm using your words against you. It works better when you use the _exact _words."

"I think you're finally getting this whole _Prince Charming_ thing down," Tara taunted. "Just as long as no one expects you to Waltz. I see why you never dance at parties, Jax. You have no rhythm."

_Wanna bet?_

"Trust me, Tara. I've got rhythm where it _counts."_

Jax caught her off guard when he grabbed her face, pressing his lips to hers. It was a kiss of contradictions—tender yet _rough_. Jax coaxed her mouth open, a shiver rippling through him when she moaned into his mouth as their tongues tangled together. She leaned over towards him, not quite on his lap. His hand was raking along her side, he couldn't figure out where to put it. He had so many tempting options—her slender waist, the perfect curve of her hip, the tight ass that was always taunting him in those denim shorts she loved to wear.

He couldn't decide—and he didn't have to.

Tara abruptly jumped back, landing on the other end of the couch. He heard her hiss, "_Damn it!" _under her breath right before she smacked her hand over her mouth, shaking her head at the floor like she'd just stepped on someone's pet by accident.

_I can't believe _I'm _the one saying this. _"I'm not saying it wasn't fun but I didn't come over here to dance with you…I came because I _wanted to talk to you_."

Tara snorted. "Isn't that _my_ line, too? Try being original for once."

Jax chuckled. "It might be your line but of course you never say it when I want you to…or when you _need _to…"

Tara turned her head towards him—slightly. Face slanted, she peeked over at him through thick lashes. "You want to know why I would forgive my boyfriend for making a mistake? Because I'd want him to forgive me…and I honestly think he _would._"

Jax shook his head. "Maybe the first time he would. But what about the second time? The third? At some point it stops being a mistake. It's a _choice."_

Tara giggled—and it reminded Jax of Maize O'Keefe. The laughter was forced, and it only made his frown deepen.

"You sound like an afterschool special, Jackson Teller."

"Damn it, Tara. Can you stop cracking jokes and be serious for minute?"

Instead of giving in like he wanted her to, Tara posed a challenging question of her own. It was one with a double meaning that made him regret ever pursuing this conversation.

It was amazing how she always managed to flip the script.

"Since when do you want _serious _anything, Jax?" Tara fired off.

_Since I can't stop fuckin thinking about you._

_Since you won't leave me THE FUCK alone even when I close my eyes to go to sleep._

_Since I sat in the middle of the school parking lot and thought of all the ways I could murder my best friend because he's there for you in the way you won't let _me_ be._

_Since THEN you stubborn pain in my ass._

He should have said it.

He should have said everything he was thinking about as her eyes searched his, her breath shallow as she drank in every emotion swirling in the ocean-blue.

And he wanted to….SO BAD.

But she was looking at him like she already knew the answer. Like she wasn't confused, she just needed a confirmation, some sort of sign that she'd finally won.

But won what exactly?

Opening up meant throwing caution to the wind, putting his heart on his sleeve.

Like Opie did.

_And look where the hell that got him._

Like Donna did.

_Always fighting. Always scared someone's going to take her spot._

Like Piney.

_Ope sees his mom once a year if he's lucky. And she was supposed to be SAMCRO for life—Piney's ride or die for life. The tattoo on her shoulder was proof...that promises don't mean shit._

Like his Old man.

_Gemma drives _me _crazy. Is she making him miserable, too? Is my mother, the reason JT can't stand to be around anymore. Is the woman in his life—the one he gave his heart to the reason he's always running off to Ireland without giving the son that's still living a second thought?_

Jax didn't know what it was he was feeling. All he knew was that he couldn't put a label on it. It had to remain nameless. Tara was asking for the opposite. She was demanding the truth from _him _as if she wasn't the one in a relationship.

He couldn't do it.

His pride wouldn't let him.

_Fear _wouldn't let him.

"I _don't_," Jax lied, giving her his signature Lady Killer smile. "I'm just trying to help this mysterious boyfriend you won't tell me about…I feel kind of bad that I'm the reason you need his forgiveness all the time. I guess we're still adjusting to this whole being _just friends _thing."

Tara stood up from the couch. Turning her back to him she began walking away. "I have homework to finish. I'm helping the Monroe's and Oswald's with setting up their booths at the Fundraiser tomorrow morning so I need to get myself together so I can go to bed at a decent hour."

_Hot and Cold. Cold and Hot. I swear I'm gonna catch fuckin pneumonia being around you._

"Is that your way of telling me to leave?"

Tara spun around to glare at him. "Is that dumb ass question your way of telling me you don't _want_ to? If you got something you want to say to me than say it. Otherwise I have better shit to do then sit around and let you toy with me."

_I've got fuckin blue balls that says _you're _toying with _me_._

"Make sure you come check out my mom's chili," Jax suggested standing up. "I'll see you tomorrow, Knowles."

He walked towards her front door, closing it behind him before he could do something stupid like tell Tara how he really felt about her.

* * *

**NEXT CHAPTER:**

**It starts on an early Saturday afternoon.**

**And Sarah's party is the **same** Saturday just later on in the night.**

**I **would** tell you the [Charming Annual Fundraiser ] is Chapter **25 **and Sarah Hale's party is Chapter **26

_BUT!_

**there's a lot of drama going on at the Charming Fundraiser so I might end up breaking it down into |2|, _maybe _|3| chapters before I upload the chapter for Sarah's party.**

**Just a quick heads up on the Drama-studded guest (**read: _cast_**) list for this year's Annual Fundraiser:**

\- **_Gemma Teller_**

\- **_John Teller_**

\- SAMCRO (background actors who observe the carnage but don't weigh in LOL)

\- **_Kyle Hobart_**

\- **_Donna Lewis_**

\- **_Opie Winston_**

\- **_The "Councilmen" who slept with Sarah _****and _paid off Tara_**

\- **_Jackson Teller (DUH)_**

\- **_Sarah Hale (DOUBLE DUH)_**

\- **_David Hale_**

\- **_Maize O'Keefe_**

\- **_Wendy Case_**

I want you all to ponder this. Everyone in **bold** (which basically means _EVERYONE_) has something going between the POV's of the _Prince_ of Bikers and his ever-stubborn _Un-charming_ brunette.

**Fists** will fly, **Accusations **will be thrown, everyone on that list is a **target **for someone else's **rage **or **jealousy….or **_both._

I'm headed off for my cruise in two days. I may or may not **_finish_** and post **25**-27/29 before I go.

**X**oX**o**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: **Charming Fundraiser: Tara's **POV.**

_Drama, drama, drama. Teenagers, man._

\- **Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

Charming's annual fundraiser was in full swing.

And it was clearly the place everyone in town wanted to spend their afternoon. Tara could close her eyes, throw a rock and it would land on someone she'd either met before or knew of. But it was a good thing Tara didn't have any actual rocks to throw at the moment.

Then again, she was pretty sure she could still do some damage with one of the many fruits she was supposed to be stacking at the booth for Monroe Market.

The public display playing out across the lot wasn't surprising to her at all. Tara wasn't seeing him through new eyes, not by a longshot. But it was times like these that reminded her that every girl she couldn't stand or that couldn't stand her somehow always ended up in Jackson Teller's lap.

Tara had spent some time in that very position two nights ago. And based on the mere sampling she'd gotten she'd be lying to herself if she said she didn't get the allure. Yet she couldn't stop herself from shaking her head at them. It really was disgusting the way they all fawned over him.

Jax's legs were spread wide as he leaned back against the bench directly across from his mother's booth. Ima sat on one leg, some other dark-haired girl Tara recognized from P.E on the other one. Jax smiled up at the camera Ima had extended in front of them as both girls pressed their lips to his cheeks.

Wendy walked up from behind them, leaning down to kiss his neck. Jax turned his head slightly, and the Lady Killer smile was on full blast as his favorite Blonde began rubbing his shoulders. In a matter of seconds Tara noticed she wasn't the only annoyed one. Ima glared up at her "friend" Wendy like she wanted to choke her. When Wendy abandoned the massage against his shoulders, she slid her hands down on either side of his chest, whispering something in his ear. Jax bit his lip, chuckling at whatever she was saying to him.

Tara had barely a second to glimpse Ima's nostrils flaring before Jax's second favorite Blonde made her appearance. Sarah's slow strut came to a halt right in the center of the gap between his thighs, where Tara was sure she felt right at home. Sarah handed Jax the extra ice cream cone in her hand before suggestively taking a lick of the one still in her hand.

Sarah Hale was bringing him frozen dessert.

Ima and her friend—who couldn't seem to keep her paws out of his unruly blonde head—were a part of his photo shoot for Vogue magazine.

And Jax's favorite flavor Wendy Case was now resuming her role as his personal masseuse.

Tara took a quick peek around him. Everywhere her eyes landed, there was a leather kutte and a look of pride or amusement on the face of the SAMCRO member wearing it. She wished she could see the humor in it.

The only thing missing from the scene in front of her were the palm leaves for the girls to fan him with, and a platter of grapes and cheese for them to feed him.

And Tara had an overwhelming desire to launch every fuckin cantaloupe in the basket beside her at all four of them bitches. It wasn't until Wendy looked up and winked at her that Tara finally found the sense to look away.

The view at the other end of the lot wasn't much better.

But at least she could find _some _humor in it.

David was helping Maize O'Keefe carry boxes over to her family's booth. Help, of course meant she walked alongside him, batting her eyelashes while he did all the actual work. When he sat them down on the table, Maize began rubbing his shoulders not unlike Wendy was doing to Jax. Only thing was, David seemed so oblivious that Tara found herself biting back laughter.

_If you're trying to make someone jealous you have to make sure the person you're using is actually paying attention to you, _Tara thought to herself. Of course that just reminded her of who Maize supposedly wanted to make jealous and she found herself sneaking a peek over at Jax again.

Sarah was gone.

And her replacement didn't bring frozen treats. Stacey Wilson, Charming High's cheerleading Captain had another means of being an attention whore. She was unzipping the side of her miniskirt, pulling it down at the front to reveal what was apparently a wad of pink lace _string_. Tara watched in shock as the leader of the Charming High School pom-pom squad pushed her poor excuse for panties aside at the low curve of her hip without the slightest care that she was in public. Whatever she was showing Jax earned her an appreciative grin as he looked up at her.

The skimpy underwear was pink but for some reason all Tara saw was red.

That is, until two familiar faces appeared suddenly in front of her.

"If looks could kill you'd murder all potential customers with that glare on your face," Opie commented. "Who the hell's idea was it to put _you _in a position that requires being nice to people?"

_Bite me_. "Hi, _Harry._"

"Hey, Tara," Donna said quietly. Being timid was so out of character for the tiny teenager that it actually made Tara forget she was angry for the moment.

"Hey, Donna," Tara answered. Then she nodded up at Opie. "I see he's off punishment...or is he just on parole until his next offense?" Tara teased.

Donna managed a small smile. "I'm actually the one on probation this time," she admitted. "I'm sorry about the other night. I kind of flipped out—"

"—it's cool," Tara interrupted. "There's a lot of irrational feelings floating around these days."

_Trust me, you really have no fuckin idea…_

"So I've heard," Donna commented, a wry smile forming on her lips.

_There's the annoying midget I know._

Opie's sudden fit of coughing sounded a lot like laughter.

_And her boyfriend with the big ass mouth._

Tara glared up at the teenage boy standing in front of her. She didn't even have to know exactly what he told her. The fact that he said anything at all was enough. "Asshole."

"I guess you can't really judge me for flipping out about Sarah," Donna continued. "Especially after the way you lost your shit with David the other night. I guess I'm not the only with territory to protect. What are you going to do about Maize O'Keefe?"

"Ummm…" Tara looked to Opie, raising an eyebrow at him but he kept his face neutral as he turned to look at his girlfriend.

"I'm gonna go see if Gemma needs help with…yeah…I'll be right back, baby." Opie leaned down to give her a quick kiss before swaggering off—probably to get the hell out of dodge before Tara's foot was lodged up his ass.

"You should just do what I did," Donna suggested as soon as Opie was out of earshot. "Just punch the bitch in the face a couple of times. It might not stop the insecurity but it'll make you feel a little better."

"What the hell are you talking about Donna?" Tara asked finally.

"You're mad at David because you think something's going on with him _O-Queef_," Donna explained, her eyes widening as if to say _DUH. _"That's why you were flirting with Jax the other night. The whole chopsticks, lady and the tramp bullshit. Ope said you came clean with David about it which I think is really great. When you're in a relationship honesty is…and I just think that….besides the fact..…..you guys are weird by the way. I thought I figured you guys out. I could have sworn you were in love with Jax but then I _also_ thought Ope was still into that Sarah bitch and I…"

Donna's lips were steady moving. And Tara wasn't listening to a word of what she was saying. She was too busy looking over her shoulder. Only this time, it wasn't at Jax. She was staring at Sarah.

Or more specifically, the older man standing next to her. The man old enough to be her father. The man subtly sneaking a glance down Sarah's shirt every so often as she ran a hand up and down his arm as if the flap of the tent whipping in front of them in the light breeze was concealing enough for them to get away with flirting.

A familiar churning made her sick to her stomach even as her eyes narrowed in anger at the audacity of the married father of two standing several feet away from her with the girl who used to tie ribbons in Tara's hair.

"…trust me, Tara. Don't let that fool you. Believe it or not Prince Charming has feelings, too. No matter how big of an ass he is you shouldn't use him to…" Donna paused, finally noticing that the green-eyed brunette wasn't paying her the slightest bit of attention. "What's wrong? Who are you glaring at?" she questioned even as she turned around to see for herself.

Donna turned just in time to see Maize and David walking in their direction, blocking her view of the real reason Tara zoned out.

"He doesn't even look interested in her," Donna said turning back to face Tara. "Trust me. That O'Keefe bitch is no Sarah. You shouldn't worry about it." When Tara's scowl didn't change a tick, Donna sighed. "_Fine. _I owe you one anyway…"

Tara caught on too late. Donna was already turning back around to face them as they walked past the booth.

"HEY, MAIZE!" Donna bellowed, causing quite a few heads to turn, including David and Maize's. "Could you come here for a minute? I need to your opinion on something." Donna turned towards Tara, adding under her breath, "I'd love to know if she brought a cantaloupe or a pineapple to her plastic surgeons office to demonstrate what she wanted her new boobs to look like."

Despite the tension she felt, Tara couldn't help but giggle as Maize approached them.

David was rooted where he stood as Maize left his side, heading towards the booth she stood behind. Tara didn't have time to decipher the question in his eyes because Mrs. O'Keefe, Maize's mother and Charming High's most hated History teacher approached him, pulling him back towards the booth he'd just finished setting up.

"What do you want, Lewis?" Maize asked, folding her arms across the breasts spilling out of her halter top. "I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"I'm curious…." Donna's smile was every bit as nasty as the red-head's in front of her. "Did it ever occur to you that you might actually have a boyfriend of your own if you would stop trying to fuck everyone else's?"

_Good ole Donna._

"Excuse me?"

"You're the Queen of gossip around here," Donna accused. "So I know you know David's seeing someone…I know you _also_ know who it is…"

Maize giggled, cocking an eyebrow. "All I know is that it's always the one's that pretend to be pure and innocent that do the wildest shit…" Maize pursed her lips. "…sex in the middle of the school parking lot is—"

"—nowhere near as scandalous as being caught with someone's cock in your mouth in front of the whole student body…_and your mother,_" Donna interjected.

Tara opened her mouth to set _the gossip Queen_ straight about what did or didn't happen with her and David in the parking lot at school. That was when she glimpsed Sarah in full on vixen mode. Behind the flap of the tent across the lot, the six-foot tall living proof of Sarah's daddy issue's was facing towards Tara as Sarah's hands trailed dangerously low.

Tara was happy to silently glower at the two of them in disgust until they finally had the sense to disappear to whatever secluded spot would keep Sarah from shaming the Hale name and _him_ out of jail for screwing a minor.

The councilman suddenly looked up and over towards them, his eyes instantly locking with hers. Coincidence? Tara had no way of knowing… at first. Then he winked at her, sending a burst of color flooding into Tara's cheeks as she realized he'd known all along that she'd been watching them. And worse, still, the smug expression on his face told her that for a multitude of reasons that made her nauseous he was enjoying the attention from both of his girls.

The one he'd been sleeping with and the one he'd paid to keep her mouth shut years before.

The two teenagers squaring off in front of Tara were completely oblivious. Once again the green-eyed brunette was out of the circle even when she was the topic.

"You think you're funny, bitch?" Maize snarled.

"I think I know a thing or two about putting _sluts_ in their place," Donna snapped. "If you don't believe me ask your new pep squad BFF Sarah…in the meantime here's an exclusive for your ass. _A black-eye is definitely going to clash with your cheerleading uniform so if I were you I'd watch it_."

"Who the hell are you? The freedom fighter for girls who can't hold their boyfriend's attention?" Maize scoffed. "If I were _you _I'd be more focused on my own relationship. Or is that what this is about? You trying to get on Tara's good side so maybe she'll convince her friend not to steal _your _boyfriend?"

_You don't know what the hell you're talking about_, Tara thought. In some distant part of her mind she knew that now was the time to insert herself into the conversation taking place in front of her. But she couldn't peel her eyes away from him—away from _them_.

He leaned down, whispering something to Sarah as if Tara might actually be able to hear.

"…..she's only been back a week…I'll give you maybe two more before Opie Winston's back to trailing behind her like a lost puppy just like before!"

_No he won't, _Tara wanted to argue.

_Ope loves you, not her_, Tara wanted to tell Donna but Sarah turned around, her eyes widening as they locked with Tara's. The curly-haired blonde had a look on her face that Tara immediately recognized as mock-embarrassment.

"It seems like every time I hear my name come out of a girl's mouth it's always something that pisses you off." Tara almost turned at the sound of Opie's voice.

Almost.

"Hey, Ope," Tara heard Maize say. "Me and your girl were just talking about your _other_ girl…you know the one you loved since elementary school? Sarah H—"

"—Tara?" Opie called out, cutting Maize off.

Tara fully meant to turn around to see why there was a question in Opie's voice when he said her name. But Sarah and her Councilman were finally making their moves.

Sarah walked out first.

He walked out shortly after, his eyes managing to find Tara's again as he pulled at his tie.

"Tara?" Opie's voice was a little clearer as he stood in front of her, blocking her view across the lot. Her eyes were aimed at his chest…until he turned his back to her to follow where her eyes had been before.

"_Is that him_?"

It wasn't what he said. It was the way he said it that had Tara's eyes snapping up to meet his. Opie's eyes flitted back and forth until whatever he read in her expression made his face harden.

_Oh shit._

"Opie!" Tara reached up, grabbing only a handful of thin air because the spot where Opie's shoulder had been seconds before was vacated as he rushed off in the opposite direction.

"Where the hell is he going?"

Donna's question was barely past her lips before the three of them watched Opie's fist connect with Rick Vidal's face.

Donna slapped a hand over her gasping mouth. Tara's folded her hands into a tent at the crown of her head as her chin jutted left to right like a bobble-head doll. Maize shouted, "HOLY SHIT!"

And everyone else at the fundraiser reacted much like Tara would expect.

Sarah backed up out of the way just in time.

Vidal was already tumbling backwards from the force of the blow, but Opie saw fit to help him to the ground as he tackled him, his knees crashing down on the man chest and groin as he leaned over him, steadily pounding his face bloody.

The crowd barely had time to gather before the civilized folk of Charming, California were forced back as SAMCRO made their presence known. Tara watched as Opie's father Piney and Jax's father yanked Opie up off of the man on the ground, bleeding from his nose and mouth. Unser's arms were outstretched in front of him, palms facing the crowd as he and his deputies urged the crowd further back.

Sarah's smile couldn't have been more arrogant as she stood there, hip cocked, her arms folded across her chest as she watched Opie disappear through the slowly dispersing crowd.

Piney dragged Opie along while John Teller helped poor Rick off the ground.

"WAY TO GO, OPE!" Tara heard someone shout. She looked over just in time to see Jax smack Kyle in the back of his head.

"You're a _prospect_, not a cheerleader, moron."

Stacey Wilson stood by his side, giggling as he lazily threw an arm over her shoulders, kissing her cheek as if to put emphasis on the only type of cheerleader he appreciated.

Tara was ready to channel Opie.

Fortunately for Jax and Stacey, her cheer-mate Maize managed to grab her attention before she could fly over and break off a high herkie in Stacey's bony ass.

"So you think I'm the gossip Queen around here, huh Donna," Maize commented, pulling a compact from her purse. Opening it up to reveal a tiny square mirror, she began smearing a fresh coat of lipstick on her mouth to match the heaviness of her eye shadow. "It's actually _true… _I know all the dirt. And a while back there was a pretty interesting rumor going around about _Lauren Vidal_ and how she got her old man to buy her new BMW _annd _let her spend the summer in Europe with her boyfriend…_anddd_…whatever the hell else that girl wants." Maize snorted. "Lauren has her father wrapped around her freshly manicured finger but _I hear _it's about more than her being daddy's little girl…"

"Shut the fuck up, Maize," Tara warned but the nasty smile on Maize O'Keefe's face made it clear that nothing short of Tara lodging a fist in her mouth would stop her from making Opie's love life hell—again.

"….rumor has it she found out her dad was sleeping with one of her classmates…heard he _begged _Lauren not to tell her mom about it…thanks to Opie I no longer have to guess which classmate it was." Maize snapped the compact mirror shut, smacking her lips together with a final pop before tossing it inside her bag. "That was _yeaaars_ ago though." Maize shrugged her shoulders. "I guess he's still not over the fact that his ex-girlfriend two timed him with some old dude…Sarah really gets around doesn't she? And they say _I'm _the school slut." Maize looked over at Tara for the first time since she walked over. "You can relax, Knowles," Maize said, before nodding her head over at Donna. "Call your pit-bull off…David's just a means to an end…for now anyway."

Then Maize sauntered off leaving Tara to try….

"_You ready to give me the 'he doesn't have feelings for her' speech again?"_

…and fail at cleaning up the mess she left behind.

"It's not what you think, Donna," Tara started but Donna was already shaking her head.

"He said _is that him_…then he…what does that mean?" Donna asked. "Did you tell him Sarah was—"

"I didn't tell him _anything_—well not exa—not what you think…Look it's complicated…but it's not about Sarah, okay? He didn't do that for Sarah?"

_At least I hope he didn't. _

"Then what the hell did he do it for? Huh? Whose _him? _Him _what?"_ Tara took too long to answer. Donna was already walking off. "Wait, Donna, listen—"

"—Whatever, Tara. You're full of shit just like him."

* * *

Tara was on the fourth strawberry she wasn't supposed to eating when he approached her.

"Hey, Tara."

It was difficult but somehow she managed not rolling her eyes. "Hi, Kyle."

"I didn't know you worked for the Monroe's."

"I didn't know you cared who I worked for."

"I don't actually."

Tara smiled despite herself. "Then why start the conversation with that?"

"I was just making an observation," Kyle countered, his eyes trailing down her body.

"You do that often?" Tara asked dryly, already looking around for Karen so she could take a break.

And make a break for it.

"Yeah…especially when it comes to you," Kyle answered. "I made another observation, too…I think today is the first time I've seen you in a skirt…."

_Well at least someone noticed._

Tara smiled grimly to herself. Kyle had a point. Over the years she'd developed a more tomboyish sense of style: sneakers and sweatpants. In recent months she'd gradually started back wearing some of her old clothes, but it wasn't until today that she'd opted to wear an actual skirt.

She refused to attribute her sudden desire to switch up her style to either of the guys in her life—especially Jackson. She looked pretty today...for her. It had nothing to do with showing anyone what they were missing.

Not that he had a moment to notice, what with his fan club catering to him.

Kyle was drawling on as if he couldn't tell how bored and distracted the girl standing in front of him was. "...and don't get me wrong I like the shorts you're always wearing but that outfit you have on right now is—"

"—_Karen!_" Tara called out suddenly The redhead about to walk pass looked over at her, the smile her boyfriend Elliot had coaxed out of her drooping the second she saw her. "It's time for my break."

"…perfect I guess I came just in time," Kyle commented.

"Go ahead," Karen said, waving her off as she turned back to continue her conversation. Elliot Oswald managed to wink at Tara before his girlfriend turned back around.

"Hey, slow down!" Kyle shouted at her back.

Tara did the opposite. She'd glimpsed Opie and a short raven-haired girl that looked a lot like Donna arguing in the parking lot across the way. She had to help her friend out…even if part of her did think his reaction was at least partially because of Sarah.

It didn't hurt that defending him meant avoiding Kyle Hobart's sleazy advances toward her.

"Tara," Kyle said, grabbing a hold of her arm. Tara reluctantly pivoted around to face him, unaware of whose booth she'd just stopped in front of.

"_Yes, _Kyle?" Tara hoped he would spit whatever line he had out so she could shoot him down quick and easy and go on about her business.

"You should come with me to the party at the clubhouse tomorrow night," Kyle suggested, a little thrown off now that she'd pinned him with her emerald gaze.

_I guess you can't all be as smooth as Prince Charming, _Tara thought. _Thank God for that._

"Sorry, Kyle." Tara shook her head. "I'm not really up for an Outlaw rager and besides I'm not even sixteen yet. That's more of a twenty-one and older crowd ya know?"

Kyle rolled his eyes, shrugging his beach-tanned shoulders. "Oh please. So what? It's not like you'll be the first minor in Club Reaper. Jax is always sneaking girls in there. Your friend Sarah is always around."

Tara chose to ignore how irritated his words made her, pushing the emotion aside.

Apparently she was doing a very shitty job.

"You think too much, doll face." Kyle clearly didn't pick up on the way Tara cringed at his words. He brushed her cheek with his hand. "You should learn to chill out...Sarah's right. You could use a little—"

Tara held up her hand. "—you talked to Sarah about me?" Tara blurted, Olive eyes blazing. _I can't believe this bitch is trying to pimp out her own brother's girlfriend...or former girlfriend. _Tara didn't know which one she was at the moment. Not that it mattered. "What are you like thirty? What's with SAMCRO and their obsession with underage girls?"

_"Oi! Careful, love!"_

"I'm nineteen, Darlin," Kyle responded, almost drowning out the thick Scottish accent of the man who may or may not have been addressing her.

_Ughh. _"And the word _Darlin._"

Kyle shrugged. "You got another pet name you prefer?"

"I'd prefer we put an end to this conversation before you make me lose my temper," Tara said turning to walk away.

Tara heard Kyle snap his fingers. "_That's right_! I keep forgetting…you're all about Prince Charming…man, I really need to figure out what Jax's secret is. Even the town drunk's daughter is ready to get on her knees for him…._only _him apparently."

Tara spun around so fast her hair whipped her in the face. "What'd you just say to me?"

Kyle smirked, shaking his head. "Every girl wants to be SAMCRO royalty...the young _Princess_ to Mr. Prince Charming. But _you? _You don't even have what it takes to be an Old Lady…and Jax doesn't want you around for anything more than a good time anyway so the jokes on you…_Darlin_."

"If you think I'm even remotely interested in being another trophy on a shelf in that _shitty_ bar you assholes call a clubhouse you're an even bigger idiot than I thought. SAMCRO is nothing but a bunch of redneck, half-wit thugs on motorcycles. And right now you're their personal bitch boy. How's that for a joke?"

_"Jesus Christ."_

Jax's voice rang out behind her. It was low, a snake-like hiss that seemed almost amplified given the brief moment of silence that followed her statement.

"_You wanna run that by us again, you little gash?_" Gemma growled. Tara's head snapped over towards the booth and row of tables that the SAMCRO matriarch stood behind.

Us.

She'd said us.

Tara took a quick look around.

Yup.

_Us,_ was definitely correct.

She'd just dissed SAMCRO….in front of all of SAMCRO.

All except the SAMCRO President himself.

And worst of all—for Opie, _and_ a certain on again off again friend of hers—she couldn't bring herself to give a single fuck about it.

Anger—a steadily increasing rage about a combination of things wouldn't let her.

Tara folded her arms across her chest. Rolling back on her heel, she cocked an eyebrow. "Sure thing, _Gem. _Which part of what I said confused you?"

"Tara," Jax said behind her. Tara didn't bother turning around to face him. Her eyes were on his mother who was already walking around the table, towards her.

"I'm done giving you chances," Gemma said, sliding the rings off her finger as she approached her. "Let's see if I can beat that stick out of your ass!"

"Gemma, she's just a kid!" Piney slid in between them. "Just let it go!"

Tara craned her neck so she could see past Piney. "Why are you so determined to get the stick out of my ass? So I can make room for biker cock like you?"

"Get the fuck out of my way, Piney!"

"Let her go, Piney. That little cunt is asking for it!" Some guy said in the crowd. Once again Tara was too locked in on the enraged woman in front of her to turn and put a face to yet another SAMCRO voice.

"I've been curious about something," Tara continued. "Is it true you _Old Ladies _let your men sleep around? Does what happen on a run really stay on a run? If so I guess that's why Jax doesn't get to see his dad much these days. He's always on a run from _you_."

"_Motherf_—Tara, what the hell?!" Jax turned her around.

Or he tried to rather. The second he touched her shoulder she shoved his hand off, took a moment to glare at him and spun right back around.

She took another heated glance around at all the leather-clad bikers and "Old Lady's" staring at her, some in shock, some different degrees of angry or annoyed. Her eyes finally landed on a shell-shocked, Kyle Hobart.

It was her turn to smirk now. "Do you want to know what _I _think, Kyle? I think you're not the only one that wishes I was old enough to be a croweater." Her eyes darted over to Gemma. She looked the woman up and down before adding, "That's a fair statement right, Gem? Your SAMCRO boys are a big fan of pussy…and I'm sure they'd appreciate one that didn't have as much mileage as yours probably does."

"_FUCK._"

The curse flew from Jax's mouth. But it wasn't nearly as fast as his mother when she abruptly shoved Piney aside and lunged at Tara, grabbing a fistful of her shirt with one hand, Tara's neck with the other.

"I'll teach you to run your fuckin mouth!" Gemma spat through her teeth.

"yeah, that's right, Gemma. Get her ass!" said a female voice in the crowd of SAMCRO members, Old ladies and Club hopefuls.

Jax stood there, frozen.

Everyone except Piney just stood there along with him and watched, no one daring to intervene in the Queen of SAMCRO's Outlaw justice.

"Gem, let her"—Piney started to yell, reaching for her.

"GEMMA!"

Once again, Piney was shoved sideways as Jax's father suddenly appeared.

"LET HER GO!" John Teller demanded even as he pulled her hands off of her. Tara dropped to the ground immediately, coughing as she held her own hand to her throbbing neck.

"That little bitch needs to learn some respect!" Gemma screamed.

Every direction Gemma maneuvered to try to get around JT, he was two steps ahead of her even as he tried to get her to see reason by yelling at her. "She's a teenager for Christ's sake! She's doing what teenagers do. Let her go! ...Damn it, Gemma. Walk away…just let her go."

Tara rose to her feet, finding her voice once more. Even raspy, the venom in it was unmistakable. "You better do what he says, Gemma. The whole town's here as a witness this time. I wonder if your husband can threaten all of them into silence."

Tara turned away before Gemma could bite back a response or lunge for her again. Walking off, she headed towards the back entrance to the High school, rushing past the gym into the locker room to take a look in the mirror at the damage her smart mouth and short temper had earned her this time around.

She didn't notice that Jax had followed her inside until she saw him through the mirror leaning against the end of the row of lockers behind her.

* * *

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	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: **Charming Fundraiser... Jax's **POV.**

\- **_Veritable_** Old **Lady** _Crow_

* * *

"_Do you not hear me talking to you?_"

The answer to Gemma Teller's question was simple.

No.

Her son wasn't paying her any attention at all. Jax was too preoccupied with the brunette pulling boxes out of the _Monroe Market_ van parked in the last row on the other side of the parking lot. Jax was enjoying the view as Tara leaned into the back of the of it, reaching for the last of the boxes. She was wearing a black kilted skirt that stopped in the middle of her thighs. The straps of her sandals were laced around her long legs, stopping mid-calve. The off the shoulder top she was wearing may as well have been a crop-top; it was two sizes to small, already stopping just under her navel and that's when she wasn't reaching or leaning over. Obviously someone wasn't ready to let go of some of the clothes she'd grown out of. And he couldn't be mad at that at all. Shit, he wouldn't mind if every clothing store within driving distance banned her from buying new ones.

Jax shook his head, smirking to himself. Of course she would show up looking like that the day after basically telling him to go play in traffic.

"Ow! What the hell?" Jax turned to glare at the pint-sized teenage girl standing next to him. Opie stood next to Donna, snickering as she raised an eyebrow at him in a silent challenge for him to flip out at being smacked in the head with the magazine in her hand.

"Your mother is talking to you," Donna commented, flipping to the next page in the gossip mag. "Stop drooling and listen…before you end up screwing everything up."

"These two," Gemma said, waving a hand between Opie and Jax, "are useless for anything that doesn't involve heavy lifting. I bet you're used to this kind of thing with all the fundraisers and volunteering you and your folks do at your church. Why don't you help me set up, sweetheart?"

Donna beamed. "I'd love to, Mrs. Teller."

Gemma tossed an arm over her shoulder, and they began walking towards the lot where the booths were being set up. "It's Gemma, sweetheart. Or _Gem_."

As soon as they walked off, Jax went back to the view he'd been enjoying as if his best friend wasn't standing next to him. This time around he had a different reason for the smile spreading across his face.

Some redhead that was probably the manager Tara always bitched about was standing at the side of the van in front of one of the van's open back doors, scribbling something down on a clipboard. Her mouth was steady moving, and Jax didn't have a clue what she was saying but whatever it was, she was clearly annoying the hell out of the green-eyed brunette standing on the other side of the door with her back facing her.

Tara looked like she wanted to drop the box in her hand on top of the young woman's head. She didn't look nearly as angry as she'd been when she'd kicked him out of her house the night before but he knew that look in her eyes. It was the look a rhinoceros might give right before it speared you with the horn on top of its head.

"_Here_," Opie said. Jax looked over to see him holding out a napkin. When Jax scrunched his eyebrows together, Opie laughed, shaking his head. "It's for the drool."

Jax flipped his middle finger up at him but Opie missed it as he leaned over stacking one box on top of another. Reaching for a third he repeated the same motion, slamming the back of the truck shut with a loud snap. Lifting the three boxes in his hand, he slid a large blue plastic bag up his forearm, then he nodded his head over towards Tara. "I got this….you should go help her out. I doubt the future Mrs. Oswald is going to lift a finger…she might break a nail."

"You're going to bust your ass carrying all of that," Jax joked. "And when you drop Gemma's shit she's gonna be pissed."

"Stop making excuses and go talk to her," Opie shot back, walking off. "I'm sick of you two. You're giving me whiplash."

Jax shouted at his back, "This coming from the guy that breaks up with his crazy ass girlfriend every two hours!"

"I'm telling her you called her crazy!" Opie tossed over his shoulder, still walking off.

Jax stood there for a moment, considering if it was worth it to take another trip into the lion's den. When the redhead strutted off, he'd finally made up his mind to approach her. He was already headed in her direction when the guy he recognized as her lab partner in science and a younger guy with a striking resemblance to him stopped at the back of the van just as she slammed the backdoors shut. Whatever he said to her made her smile, shake her head, giggling. They had a very brief conversation, what appeared to be an easygoing dialogue that immediately remedied the bad mood her boss had left her in. Jax looked on in annoyance as Geek-boy lifted two boxes and a large brown paper bag into his bony ass arms and walked off towards the lot with her, his younger brother trailing behind with his eyes glued to the videogame in his hand.

* * *

"So how long do I have?" Donna asked the question so quietly Jax almost didn't catch it over the blend of voices. Gemma Teller was infamous for more than just the club her husband founded. Her chili was legendary, hell, her cooking in general. And everyone in town, it seemed, wanted a bowl…or three.

"How long do you have for what?" Jax added as he looked over, towards his mother's booth as if staring would somehow will Gemma to bring him a bowl so he didn't have to get up off the bench he was sitting on.

"How long before you convince Opie he's better off."

Jax fought the urge to groan even as he rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ, Donna. Why do you have to make everything so damn dramatic?"

"Can you answer the question?"

Jax sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I told him to break up with you two weeks into your relationship."

"You did _what?_" Donna shrieked.

Jax held up a hand. Before she could speak again he used the same hand to mime the zipping of his lips. "You wanted me to answer your question. I'm answering so shut up."

Donna narrowed her eyes but didn't say a word so he continued.

"Opie's my brother. You weren't even around a whole month and next thing I know I'm cutting class solo with no one to smoke up with…I'm not saying that's a bad thing…but…._ah, fuck this!_ I'm not about to have a heart to heart with you, Tinkerbelle. All you need to know is two things. One, Opie doesn't give a shit what I say or what anyone else says because he loves you. He does whatever the hell he wants just like I do. We still have that in common at least."

"And…two?" Donna prompted when Jax didn't answer right away. She turned to see who he was smiling at behind her, rolling her eyes when she saw it was Ima and yet another member of his fan club sashaying over towards them—well, him.

"Hey, Jax," the girls said in unison, giggling when they realized they'd done it.

"Ladies." Jax jutted his chin up towards them, lips slanted into his signature cocky grin. Each girl sat on either of his legs, Jax spreading them wide to give them plenty of room in his lap.

"Jax?" Donna said. Jax leaned back to look over at Donna over Ima's bare shoulder.

"Yeah?"

Donna sighed, rising to her feet. "What was the second thing?" she repeated.

"I'm on your side," he said solemnly, before scowling up at her. "Even though you're the biggest pain in my ass!"

Donna smirked. "Jerk."

Then Donna spotted Opie headed towards Tara's booth. Shaking her head at the three—yes, three—attention whores on the bench beside her, she walked off to join her boyfriend in his daily routine of annoying the hell of his next door neighbor.

Jax looked up at the camera above his head, his mouth spread into a lopsided grin as the camera flashed. He felt someone lean down, kissing his neck. He didn't even have to turn all the way around. Her perfumed gave her away but the laughter in her voice and the comment she made the second she walked up had him tilting his head back to look at her.

"You're going to get Ima and Natalie killed…me, too if I'm not careful."

Instead of responding his eyebrows rose towards his scalp as he beckoned with his eyes for her to elaborate.

Wendy leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Your little girlfriend is watching you…keep it up and Tara's going to storm over here and that cantaloupe on the table in front of her won't be the only thing getting sliced and diced….unless that's what you want? ….I haven't seen you in a few days…maybe with all the time you've been spending at the Clubhouse, that _Tig_ guy is wearing off on you…." Wendy kissed the spot behind his ear, before tugging at his earlobe with her teeth. "You like a little pain with your—"

"Jax." Jax and Wendy both looked up at the sound of Sarah's voice. Well Wendy looked up at her. Jax was pretty much looking through her. He had Tara right in his peripheral vision, and he had to fight the urge to look straight at her.

Wendy was right. She was definitely watching him and much to his enjoyment, she looked pissed.

"Where did you sneak off to last night?" Sarah asked him.

"I went to Opie's," Jax lied. He'd actually gone home for a change. Granted, he snuck through his window so that he wouldn't have to deal with either of his parents but still, he'd needed a night in his own bed…without company. He didn't know why she even bothered pretending she was hurt. When he'd snuck back into grab his hoodie Sarah looked right at home on the barstool leaning over the counter, talking with Kyle.

"Here, I got you one," Sarah said, handing him an ice cream cone.

"Thanks, Darlin," he said, not even looking at her. Even at a distance he could make out redness creeping into Tara's cheeks as she looked over towards the other side of the lot. Just that quick he'd missed whatever had embarrassed her. Although Wendy's light chuckle behind him gave him an idea of what may have just happened.

"Are you coming to my party tonight?" Sarah asked.

"I doubt it," Jax responded. "I'm not really in the mood to hang out with Douche bag and Douche bag Junior."

"Me either, honestly," Sarah pressed on. "My brothers are lame…I figured we could knock back a few shots, steal Jake's stash and go hang out somewhere just us….like old times ya know?"

"Yeah, sounds good," Jax agreed. He didn't have shit else to do tonight as far as he knew.

He was still looking across the lot. Tara looked very amused about something. He followed her eyes to where David Hale and Maize were standing. Jax wondered if she was thinking about their conversation two nights ago about Maize trying to make him jealous…among other things.

"…when I'm finished just come find me…or I'll find you….Jax?"

Jax nodded his head absently at whatever Sarah was saying.

Tara's eyes suddenly flitted over his direction. His own eyes widened in surprise until he realized she wasn't looking at him at all. She was glaring at Sarah in front of him. He looked up and that's when he realized Sarah had walked off. Standing in front of him was Stacey Wilson.

Stacey was the girl responsible for the Teller's longstanding absence at the local Catholic Church. His mother was banned for slapping the pastor's wife during a nasty argument about Jackson's repulsive behavior during Sunday school when he was twelve. She'd caught Stacey with "_her hands in Jackson's shorts!_", an act that she seemed to blame solely on the future Outlaw's charm and the _"lack of morals displayed at home."_

Tara had gotten banned, too funny enough. Apparently she was supposed to be the lookout but she'd gotten all wrapped up in some book she was reading and didn't realize Mrs. Kent had walked pass until it was too late. Stacey called herself flipping out on Tara for getting her into trouble. A couple heated words exchanged later and Jax and Opie got to spend their last day of Sunday school watching Tara shove Stacey's face into the potted plant on Mrs. Kent desk.

Jax laughed out loud as he recalled Tara's sarcastic remark when Mrs. Kent yelled that she should be ashamed of her behavior.

_"She started it," _Tara had answered, shrugging. "_And besides…God made dirt and dirt don't hurt right? A little soil's not gonna kill her. She'll live._"

"Hey, Jackson," Stacey purred.

"It's _Jax_, Darlin'." Behind him Wendy snorted. When Stacey stood there, smiling at him mischievously, Jax nodded his head up at her. "What you need?"

Stacey giggled. "I just got this new tattoo…it was a total dare! Emily didn't think I would do it! I wanted to know what you thought of it."

"Let's see it, then," Jax encouraged. When she moved to pull the zipper down on the side of her skirt he chuckled.

_Oh, boy._

Stacey slid the hem of her panties aside, pulling down the bandage stuck to her hip to reveal her new ink.

"A butterfly? How original," Ima snarked. Her friend, whose name he couldn't remember was snickering at the bitchy comment.

"I like butterflies," Jax admitted, forcing himself to focus on the literal one in front of him instead of the metaphorical butterfly in his peripheral vision. If he said he wasn't enjoying the prospect of irritating the hell out of her with the harem of hot girls fawning over him he'd be full of shit.

But the anger in her expression now wasn't the same as before. She looked disgusted. And from the angle he was sitting he couldn't see who she was staring at in the tented booth directly across from hers. Whatever or whoever it was had definitely stolen his thunder. She'd forgotten Jax completely. He was itching to find out why.

And somehow he doubted it had anything to do with the heated conversation Maize and Donna were having in front of her. Opie walked over, momentarily blocking his view. When Opie moved further down, standing directly in front of her, Jax found himself craning his neck as if that would actually help him to hear the words Opie said that made Tara's eyes finally shoot up towards him. Jax didn't have long to try to decipher what the latest top-secret exchange between them was because the second Tara's eyes widened he watched his best friend storm off across to the opposite side of the lot. He noticed Sarah first. Her grey eyes were as wide as Tara's.

And that was when Opie threw the first punch.

Jax didn't even see the guys face good. A crowd was gathering and all he knew was some guy standing suspiciously close to Sarah was getting his ass whipped.

Ima and the girl whose name he'd already forgotten were smart enough to jump off of him, Stacey falling in step with him as he rushed over towards them. All of SAMCRO was there at Gemma's behest so he already knew he wouldn't have to actually lift a finger. He just wanted to get a good look at the guy getting his face pounded. The secrets between his best friend and the girl next door to him were steadily piling. Still, part of Jax wondered if this one had something to do with the grey-eyed blonde with a self-satisfied grin on her face as Opie beat a man to a bloody pulp at her feet. A man Jax was sure she'd been alone in the tent Tara was glaring a hole into just moments before.

_Just when you're starting to get a handle on Donna's crazy you pull this shit._

It was over pretty quick.

Piney dragged Opie off towards the parking lot while Jax watched his father picking the poor sucker off the ground.

"WAY TO GO OPE!"

Jax scowled at the sudden appearance of Kyle Hobart. He slapped him in the back of the head, daring him to react when he turned to glare.

Stacey giggled beside him at his joke about Kyle being a cheerleader. That was when he remembered Kyle had dated Stacey back when he was in High school. Stacey was two years behind him, graduating this year. Judging by the bitterness in his expression he was flashing back to that night two years ago when Stacey—his prom date—ditched him to get high with two very charming HS freshman. Stacey was Jax's _first_ in more ways than one. She'd checked off every box except the one that entailed feelings.

Rumors aside, Opie was the only one who knew about his history with her.

Or at least he thought so.

Kyle seemed privy with the way he was glowering at her. And just a few paces behind him, Tara's glare was drilling a hole in the side of her head that made him wonder if Opie had told her something he shouldn't have.

Jax didn't know which one of them he was aiming to piss off more when he wrapped an arm around Stacey, kissing her cheek. But it had the desired effect on both parties.

Kyle and Tara.

He'd only wished he had a little longer to enjoy it before Donna shoved her way past them, causing Stacey to lose her balance, accidentally stomping a ring of dirt from the bottoms of her sandals on the tops of what used to be crisp white sneakers.

"Damn it."

"Sorry, Jax."

"It's all good, Darlin," he answered as he crouched down to try to dust off the stains. Behind him he could have sworn he heard a familiar giggle.

* * *

If Kyle was looking for a way to get back at Jax for Stacey Wilson, going after Tara Knowles was definitely the way to do it.

Of course if he'd taken the time to glance in the young biker prince's direction he might have realized that Tara was also the way to guarantee he didn't live long enough to earn his top rocker.

Jax was already actively trying not to be jealous…of a fuckin strawberry. He'd finally managed to look away from the show Tara didn't even know she was putting on for him when she saw Kyle walking over towards her.

Tara's nose had that pinched look she always got when she was trying not to roll her eyes at someone. That was enough to quiet the voice in his head telling him that it might be a good idea to intervene.

He should have listened to the voice.

He really should have.

Kyle was as predictable as ever. Jax knew he loved to throw around the fact that he was prospecting for the SONS. He always used the fact that he was months away from earning his patch to get girls. He was seriously barking up the wrong tree using that with Tara, though. That approach wouldn't help him at all.

_I guess I'll just let him hang himself,_ Jax thought smirking. It was about time someone else got a healthy dose of Tara-rage.

As he looked on, Jax was disappointed when Tara began walking away from Kyle without so much as a scowl. Kyle Hobart was possibly the only guy in the town of Charming that could steal David Hale's title as Honorary Douchebag. How is it she could be cordial with him but all _he_ ever got was her short-temper and mixed signals?

"Hey, slow down!" He heard Kyle shout at her back. When Kyle wrapped a hand around her forearm, Tara stopped in between the bench where Jax sat and his mother's booth. All around her was SAMCRO.

She was the one in the lion's den this time around and she didn't seem to notice at the moment.

She didn't even notice that Jax wasn't even a full three feet away from her—or she was doing one hell of a job pretending she didn't.

When Tara said, "Yes, Kyle?" in her I'm-trying-really-fuckin-hard-not-to-smite-you tone of voice, Jax barely resisted the urge to rub his palms together in anticipation.

One.

Kyle only had to say one thing she didn't like and he was in for a treat.

Jax could hardly contain himself waiting for the fireworks. He was on the edge of his seat when Kyle mentioned Sarah.

But then he heard her say SAMCRO—then he saw all eyes surrounding her flit towards where she was standing.

Jax realized too late what a very bad idea it was to let Kyle get under her skin. Tara's snarky remark had earned her a response from one of his father's patch brother's, Chibs. He definitely didn't miss the fact that his mother had put down the ladle in her hand to press both palms into her hips.

When he saw Tara turning to walk away, Jax silently praised the God Stacey had a "hand" in him shaming that Sunday in church years ago because he'd thought for sure shit was about to get ugly.

Then Kyle made the mistake of opening his mouth again.

_"Every girl wants to be SAMCRO royalty," _the idiot taunted_. "...the young Princess to Mr. Prince Charming. But you? You don't even have what it takes to be an Old Lady…and Jax doesn't want you around for anything more than a good time anyway so the jokes on you…Darlin."_

Jax rose up from the bench, hands already twitching as he swiftly closed the gap between them. Kyle was about to be the Mr. Suit &amp; tie to his Opie.

"_If you think I'm even remotely interested in being another trophy on a shelf in that shitty bar you assholes call a clubhouse you're an even bigger idiot than I thought. SAMCRO is nothing but a bunch of redneck thugs on motorcycles. And right now you're their personal bitch boy. How's that for a joke?"_

All Jax could do with his twitching hands then was palm his face with them, muttering a understated, "Jesus Christ," as the fireworks began.

"You wanna run that by us again, you little gash?" His mother's voice rang out.

The fourth of July had come early this year. And it wasn't the party he'd been hoping for.

Not by a fuckin longshot.

* * *

Tara never shied away from saying how she felt about the club. And even though it annoyed Jax, even though he wished she would stop prejudging everything about the club he couldn't wait to be a part of, he never faulted her for being real with him.

_"…which part of what I said confused you?"_

But now was the wrong time and place for her to speak her mind. He had to get a handle on the fire Kyle had started before the whole forest went up in smoke.

"Tara," he called after her. She either ignored him or didn't hear him at all.

His mother was advancing on her. Gemma's hands were doing that twitching thing his had been doing before as she pulled the rings from her hands, shoving them down in the back pocket of her tight black jeans.

Tara was seconds away from a world of hurt and he didn't see how he could stop it without offending his family.

Jax stood there, rooted to the spot on the field behind her in stunned silence. He was conflicted. His body was taut, every muscle wired but unmoving as he struggled to pick a role in the disaster playing out in front of him.

Even if he didn't think he could take him, part of Jax wanted to rush the bald-headed patch standing next to Chibs for calling Tara a cunt.

Even though he knew it would put him at odds with his own mother and all the men in leather kuttes around him, part of Jax wanted to dive in front of Tara, pick her up and take off with her before anyone could hurt her.

But most conflicting of all was that last part of him.

Tiny as it was, he couldn't deny it. There was a part of him that wanted Gemma to put Tara in her place.

He resented her constant disrespect of his club. Her disdain for his father even though he knew JT had thrown the first stone.

He hated her for putting him in a position where he might have to choose between her and his family. He resented the fact that she made it such a tough choice.

And he hated that she'd once again awoken the voice in his head that told him his mother was one-hundred percent right about the brunette standing in front of him.

The marker slid back and forth along the scale that was Jax's emotions.

Back Piney up.

Support his mother's position.

He didn't know what he wanted.

But when Gemma wrapped her hand around Tara's throat, watching his mother choke the girl he couldn't seem to shake off, Jax knew in an instant what he _didn't _want.

Lucky for Jax, his father wasn't just a silent figure in the corner today. JT rushed forward, diffusing the situation in the mere seconds it took for Jax to take a single step towards them.

Once he got a hold on the mad woman struggling against him, John Teller looked over at Jax, conveying a silent message meant only for his son.

Jax gave his father a curt nod. As far as olive branches go, that was the best Jax could manage for the time being.

He and his father still had a lot of shit to deal with.

And while he may have spared Tara any major backlash for all of her harsh words, he was still a big part of the reason her hate for the club…her mistrust of Jax was so strong. Jax couldn't shake that he was a part of the reason Tara wouldn't let him completely in again.

And of course there was also the whole abandoning his family part that still had Jax …hurt.

Not angry. Hurt.

Now wasn't the time or place to deal with any of that either.

* * *

Tara got the last word in.

She made one final remark, yet another jab at the man that had just saved her from being choked unconscious…or worse. Then she stormed off like she'd done so many times before.

And it was if Jax was connected to her by a chain-link.

Because he ignored his mother's gasp.

And Donna and his best friend Opie's wide-eyed expressions when he spotted them in the back of the crowd.

And all of the disapproving, outraged, disbelieving looks on the familiar faces in the crowd of people around him.

Jax bypassed them all to follow after her.

* * *

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	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: **Locker Room Riot

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

"I came in here," Jax said, looking in her eyes through the mirror. His voice was shaky, quaking with barely controlled anger that would put the fear of God in anyone with half a brain. "I actually followed behind you in front of ever—everyone I care—everyone you diss—," Jax raked a shaky hand through his hair, his voice rising just a little higher as he continued. "…and now I don't even know what to say to you. I don't know what I want to say to you first or how I can even say it without yelling loud enough to shatter your fuckin eardrums."

"How about you start with _I'm sorry my mother's a psychopath_?" Tara joked, looking away from his image in the mirror to inspect the purple bruising forming an angry ring around her neck.

Tara spun around, her ass hitting the counter, when Jax kicked a dent into the locker he'd been leaning against.

"_Goddamn it!_" Jax screamed at the ugly row of pea-green lockers. He needed to compose himself before he looked at her again. Or he might end up picking up where his mother left off.

"What was that you were saying about _girls _flying into rages?"

Jax blew out a heavy breath. "Damn it, Tara, nothing about this is funny and you think it's a joke."

"I didn't ask you to come after—"

"_Who the fuck else was going to?" _Jax bellowed, spinning around to face her again. He tilted his head to the side, nostrils flaring as he moved a couple steps closer to her. "Who are you waiting on? Your _boyfriend_, Casper the friendly fuckin ghost?" Slowly, Jax walked in a full circle, making a point to stare in every corner of the room. "I don't see anyone else coming in here to make sure you're okay. Even Opie is staying clear of you after the shit you just pulled!"

Tara turned away, her eyes fixed on the middle of the sink she stood in front of. "You should take a page out of Opie's book then….just leave me alone, Jax."

_Oh, believe me, I want to. _

_I'm getting closer and closer to fuckin doing it, too._

Jax sighed, opting to once again swallow the rage dancing on the surface, making him hot all over.

Through the silence, his footsteps sounded loud even to his own ears when he approached her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, pushing down the urge to shake her like a fuckin Polaroid picture. At his touch, Tara looked up and their eyes met again in the mirror.

When he spoke, his voice was careful, measured. "Just friends? More than friends? It doesn't make a damn bit of difference. If we're going to be anything you have to stop doing this shit every time you get annoyed about something. I understand how you feel…I even get why you feel that way, but you can't just disrespect the club like that. What you did back there was reckless and dangerous. How am I supposed to defend you? You really want me bumping heads with them? This isn't like you and the Hale's…"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" _Shit. _Tara turned around to glare at him directly. "You know what, Jax? Don't even answer because I really don't give a shit. And I didn't ask you to defend me to anyone…especially your mother. Maybe if I had you wouldn't have stood there while that crazy bitch tried to choke me to death. Why don't you do me a favor? Take your bullshit chivalry and shove it!"

_To hell with being nice, _Jax thought as he spoke, slowly—through clenched teeth. "I just watched you diss _everyone_ I care about—I stood there frozen like a goddamn scarecrow while you insulted the only family I've ever known, the family that always has my back…the family that's _always_ going to have my back. I just walked out on them _for you. _I'm hurting the people that would never walk away from me even when I say or do things that piss them off! _Stupid shit like running after a girl that doesn't give a shit about anyone but herself!_" Jax flung his arm out, pointing towards the door he'd entered the locker room through. "Those people out there would kill for me…_die for me_ if they had to. That's who you just shit on, Tara. If you were David or anyone else you'd be at St. Thomas right fuckin now, getting your jaw wired shut. And you know what?" Jax used the same hand to jab his thumb into his chest. "I would have been the one that sent you there. Not my mom or anyone else."

Tara shrugged her shoulders at him and if Jax were a snake he would have skipped right over the hissing and got straight to striking.

"Go ahead and hit me, SAMCRO Junior," she challenged, echoing her father's name for him. "I'm sure being a woman beater is probably part of the criteria when your father's interviewing potential prospects for his biker gang."

Jax suddenly raised his hands high above his head. He lacked the focus or concern to be offended when Tara jumped as if she feared he might actually do it.

"You are the most stubborn, miserable, judgmental chick I have ever met in my life. _I fuckin hate you!_"

Tara raised her own hands above her head. Slapping them down against her thighs, she shouted, "Then why won't you leave me the hell alone?"

"_BECAUSE I FUCKIN _WANT_ YOU, TOO!_"

Tara's eyes ballooned and Jax had the satisfaction of seeing her mouth form an O-shape before she quickly clamped it shut. Turning her back to him for umpteenth time, she aimed her eyes down in the sink as she braced her hands against it. "Well I…..I want you to keep your distance. That's what _I _want…."

"I lied to you yesterday," Jax admitted. Tara looked up, into the mirror just as he closed what little space they had left between them. His grin was sharp, predatory when her lips parted, surprise—at his proximity, not his words—shining in her eyes.

Jax's eyes were a steadily darkening indigo, yet somehow it was like the bluest of clear skies—no clouds for his emotions to hide behind.

Jackson Teller was unguarded, an open book. And he wasn't angry with her.

He was furious.

"I lie about a lot of shit," Jax said, leaning down to speak against her ear. "But you're a liar, too and a fuckin hypocrite. All this bullshit you keep talking about mistakes and you keep making the same one over and over again. _I'm not the mistake._"

Jax grabbed a hold of her arm. Unlike Kyle he didn't wait for her to turn on her own. He jerked her around. Gripping her waist with both hands, he moved just a quickly when he lifted her up, sitting her on the counter space between two of the five sinks that lined the left side of the locker room.

Tara gasped, but she made no move to scoot back against the wall. She stayed there, right at the edge. And he took a moment to wallow in triumph at the rapid rise and fall of chest as his hands caressed the tops of her inner-thighs.

"You want _distance_?" He didn't bother to mask the sarcasm in his voice. He even smirked when her eyes narrowed. "You sure as hell don't act like it."

Tara's nails dug into his wrist when she yanked his hands from underneath the fold of her skirt. All he did was slam his palms down on the counter on either side of her hips and lean in closer, lightly brushing his lips against her ear.

"If you want distance why are you always so _pissed_ when you see me with someone else?" His mouth was a ghostly trail along her neck, so close to pressing against her skin he could feel the heat emitted from her against his lips, but with no payoff—for either one of them. "_I'm not the mistake, Tara_," Jax repeated, whispering it against her neck as he slowly drew his head back to meet her eyes. "The mistake is every time you pull away from me when you know you don't want to."

Jax reached a hand up to comb his fingers through her hair, before sliding his hand around to the back of her head. His other hand reached for her chin, cupping it between steady, determined fingers.

He had her right where he wanted her, but as always he'd left himself open to attack in the process. Jax was tired of being the only frustrated one. It was time for Tara to have some frustration of her own. So when he'd advanced toward her, when he'd moved in, invading every bit of space she had he'd done it with one goal in mind.

Jax leaned into her, as close as he could get without kissing her, his hands circling the patch of skin at her waist where her shirt had risen up. The tips of their noses were barely touching as he struggled with driving his point home.

Her eyes were a smoldering emerald, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she waited for his next move. Just thinking about all the things he could do that she'd love, all the things he knew she wanted, the things she begged for with her eyes without the courage to tell or show him—his imagination alone had him straining against the zipper of his jeans.

_Damn it, Tara. _

He'd wanted to get a rise out of her. And instead she'd gotten one out of him…without even trying.

But Jax was done thinking with his dick. That was how she got him every time.

"If you want distance why do we always end up right back where we are now?" he asked quietly. "Why aren't you pulling away from me right now?"

Silence.

His questions were met with silence.

And when she didn't respond, it was fresh kindling for the fire that kept his temper simmering. Just like that, his laser focus was back. "You're waiting for the _Teller Charm _to kick in aren't you, Tara?" he growled. "You're waiting for _me _to show you how I feel…_again…_so you can pull away from me…_again._"

He didn't spare her a second to confirm or deny what he already knew.

Jax pulled away first. The look of disappointment that flashed in her eyes was the spoonful of sugar he needed to help the bitter taste of his own medicine go down. How many times did she have to prove, without effort, that every action he took against her had a ricocheting effect.

He would walk away with the same frustration, the same lack of fulfillment he'd dealt with every time she walked away from him.

But at least this time he'd been the first to leave.

"You don't want distance from me, Tara," Jax accused. "You want as little distance as possible, but you're too afraid to admit it and that's too damn bad. _I'm done being rejected. _There are way too many other girls willing to give me what you won't."

Tara pushed against his chest, backing him up so she could slide down off the counter. She met the arrogance in his smile with a scowl that packed enough heat to sear a steak. "You think you're so fuckin _irresistible _don't you?"

_CHECK. FUCKIN. MATE._

Jax took another page out of Kyle's book. He smirked at the Viper, rearing its deadly head up at him. "If you don't want me, walk away," he challenged, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm done chasing after your stubborn ass, too. You want out? Take off. It's what you do best, Darlin."

"Fuck you, Jax."

_That and sound like a broken fuckin record._

Jax waved a hand towards the exit. "The doors that way, _Darlin._"

"I have asked you not to call me that shit!"

_And channel the spirit of Donna Lewis._

"I don't care what you want…unless you're ready to admit you want me." Tara growled, all but foaming at the mouth. "You're stalling, _Darlin'. _Start moving."

"I'm not going anywhere," Tara shrieked, folding her arms across her chest. "I came in here first. Why don't _you _get the hell out?"

Jax chuckled, shaking his head at her. "Fine, I'll leave." He turned his back to her like she'd done to him so many times before, walking off. "Have fun dating Casper!" he yelled over his shoulder.

"Asshole!" she shouted at him.

"Frigid bitch!" he bit back.

That was when the force of something sent him tumbling forward, banging his leg against the bench posted between the two rows of lockers he was walking through. Barely catching his balance as his palms shot out to grip that very same bench, he flipped around, his butt grazing the thick, rusted strip of wood beneath him as he looked up at the force standing at the end of the front of the bench, breathing like she'd just finished pushing one of those football dummies teams used during practice, and with Big Foot on the other end of the padding.

Jax rubbed at the sharp pain in his knee, needing something to do besides go against the oldest rule in the book of life: boys don't hit girls.

His hands may have been busy, but it wasn't completely metaphorical to say the gloves had come off where his mouth was concerned.

"I'm thinking my Old man should have held off for a little while longer….maybe my mom could have actually choked some sense into you."

Tara lunged for him again. And he was ready for her this time.

Jax jumped up, grabbing her by the tops of her arms, he swung her around, shoving her back against the lockers. He pinned her hands above her head so she couldn't strike him, held her legs together like a vice in between his own to hold off the Kung Fu Crouching fuckin Tiger he knew she was itching to let loose on him.

Against his better judgment he found himself leaning in dangerously close her mouth, as he whispered a threat against her lips.

"Keep it up, Tara. One of these days I might slip up and lose my respect for the fairer sex."

Tara caught him by surprise.

That was the only reason she was able to free up one of her hands. One was all she needed to shove hard against his chest until he grunted, stepping back away from her before she ended up adding actual weight to the empty threat he'd made against her.

He didn't say goodbye. He didn't call her out of her name again. He couldn't even muster up another glare to shoot her way. He simply turned his head to resume his exit.

The dry sob that cut through the air was the only thing that gave him pause.

He looked back, the glassiness of her eyes made him want to reach for her.

But angry tears wasn't enough to make him cave and actually do it.

"_Why, Tara?_ Why do insist on being so fuckin miserable?"

Tara nails scraped against the side of his neck as her hands shot out, twisting the collar of his shirt in her hands. A single tear slid from between her bottom lashes.

Jax didn't even get a chance to see it fall.

Tara was already pulling him towards her, crushing her lips against his. His mouth opened against hers as she released the all-white SAMCRO| Tee bunched up in her hands to wrap them around his neck.

It was hunger, desperation and a soul-scorching demand all in one. Tara tilted her head, deepening the kiss as she switched angles left to right and back again. He matched the rhythm of her tongue stroke for stroke as he reached around to cup her ass. In a matter of seconds she managed to drop her hands, sliding them through the tiny gap of space between their chests to reach for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head just before Jax lifted her up, her legs automatically curving around his waist as he pressed her back against the lockers.

Jax moved in closer, pressed his body tight against hers as he balanced the remaining weight of her with one hand, the other crawling its way up to a favorite spot of his. The Vanilla honey scented locks adorning her rapidly shifting head. Fingers tangled in Tara's hair, the groan climbing its way up his throat vibrated against her lips as she rocked forward pressing down hard against him.

He gave her hair a gentle tug as he eased her head to the side for full access to her neck. Jax paused, pulling back to frown at his mother's handiwork. His frown deepening as the harshness of his earlier words echoed in his head.

Then Tara's voice was in his ear. "_Kiss it better._"

Of all the words she could have stolen from him she'd picked the perfect set. And was more than happy to oblige as he dipped his head, pressing a hot, wet trail of kisses from the sweet spot behind her ear, down to the pulse at her throat, sucking on the soft skin there.

Tara's breath was hot and heavy against skin. She was moaning in his ear and it was driving him crazy. Somehow her hands had found their way between them again. And when he felt her grip the buckle of his belt in her hand, Jax recoiled, abruptly setting her down on her own two feet before she did something to make him lose it in an entirely different way.

Jax laced his hands in hers, mostly to keep her busy fingers in line. He leaned in pressing his forehead against hers, nose-to-nose, green eyes locked with blue. Tara tilted her chin just a little to suck his bottom lip into her mouth, grazing it with her teeth as she pulled back resting her forehead against his once more. Jax's eyes were closed as he tried to summon the control he needed to stop him from pushing up her skirt and pulling the thin fabric underneath it down her thighs.

He knew it even if the increasing tightness of his jeans at his groin made him want to throw caution to the wind and take this opening like it was the last chance he'd ever get. And knowing his track record with the girl wrapped up in her arms it very well may have been.

Tara wasn't giving him time to think, the chance to gather up all the willpower he had. She was tugging at his bottom lip again. He didn't even fight it when she shook her wrists loose from his grip.

Jax squeezed his eyes shut just a little bit tighter when she raked her nails down his chest. Her other hand reached for the curve of his jaw, gently nudging his chin up to place an open-mouthed kiss just underneath it, where the trail to his throat began.

Then without warning the hand on his chest dropped, snaking between them. His reaction was delayed, he moved too slowly. Jax's eyes flew open. He drew in a sharp intake of breath as her hands slid down. Stopping at his groin, she cupped him in her hand. Her eyes were glued to his as she slowly stroked him through his jeans, watching his reaction.

Jax couldn't mistake the smile quickly spreading across her face even through the fluttering of his lids as he fought to keep them open. Clearly she'd gotten the reaction she wanted.

Too soon, she stopped.

But then her hands were on his belt buckle again and Jax found himself mentally kick himself in the ass when his fingers curled around her wrists again.

There were two reasons they couldn't go any further.

He couldn't form the words for either reason so he wracked his brain desperately for any way of holding her off without offending her.

All he could manage to say was, "_not now, okay?"_ to which Tara laughed at.

"You only get to use my words against me once," Tara chastised.

It was like she snapped her fingers and his zipper was down.

He knew it didn't happen that way. What had actually happened was a mental stutter. She'd thrown him off course with the look that flashed in her eyes, illuminating the green. Tara reached for him and Jax jumped back, forgetting all about the bench.

The bench that cut him off at his legs, sending him flying backwards. The backs of his knees curved around it. It was like they were back in the cafeteria, only this time Tara was in the driver's seat. She reached a hand out, pulling him up so he was sitting on the bench. His hand immediately flew to zipper, pulling it closed again. When he looked up she was standing over him, dipping her own hands underneath the sides of her skirt. Black as the kilted mini was he'd still managed to zero in on her the hooking of her thumbs underneath it. Convinced he'd officially shredded what was left of his sanity, he found himself stilling her hands, his fingers wrapped tightly around her forearm before she could start the shimmy that was sure to make him lose his resolve.

"Tara," Jax said, his voice strained. He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. He tried to convey the message in his head with his eyes.

_As much as I want you to—and believe me, I REALLY FUCKIN want you to…. if you do _anything_ to me right now I'm going to embarrass myself._

It was either lost in translation or she'd done what she was best at—ignored him. She threw his hands off, and the look of determination in her eyes had his heart lodged somewhere in his throat.

He was done for. He was her puppet. And there was nothing left to do but let her pull his strings.

Jax threw in the towel, giving up on controlling the situation at all.

He was ready. He made it clear when he widened the gap between his legs, his palms facing down against the bench on either side of him.

That was when her face changed. He'd finally stopped fighting her off and just like that her nerves kicked into high gear. The sight of her biting at her bottom was still hot as ever, but he knew it had less to do with her being turned on and more to do with her being nervous.

She wanted…something. It was definitely some version of what he wanted. But she wasn't counting on him not trying to stop her, not trying to take over. Somehow her confidence had diminished the second he'd handed over the reins completely.

It was cute.

Cute in a way that Jax made a mental note to tease her about at some point later on.

"You don't have to show me"—_right now, _Jax added in his head—"…I just wanted to hear you say it, babe…I needed you stop playing hot and cold…"

Jax rolled his eyes at slight pout Tara was struggling to keep off of her face. In the end she'd played right into his hands, and if it was one thing Charming's resident know-it-all hated, it was when someone outsmarted her.

Especially when that someone was Jackson Teller.

"I'm gonna get fired...my manager is probably pulling her hair out right now wondering where I went…"

Jax smiled up at her, his mouth lopsided. "It was worth it though, wasn't it?"

Tara scoffed.

"_Ugh. _I hate to have to bring you and your big ass head back down to Earth but you're not half as charming as you think you are, Jax," Tara said, making him chuckle.

"_Bullshit._" Jax bit back. Reaching for her hands he laced his fingers between hers. Tara squeezed his hands tightly, smirking when his eye twitched at the pressure. "You trying to cut off my circulation?"

Tara smirked. "You scared they're gonna fall off?"

"Messing around with you, they might," Jax countered. "I'm a mechanic, babe. I kind of need them…and I don't think I need to remind you how good I am with my hands."

"_He's got a point, Tee."_

* * *

Tara and Jax's head's snapped over towards the locker room entrance, where Sarah was leaning against the wall, staring down the aisle at them—well, Tara mostly.

Her eyes were on the joining of their hands.

Jax bit back a curse when Tara pulled her hands out of his.

"What do you want, Sarah?" Jax asked the top row of lockers in front of him.

"I've been looking for you," Sarah answered. "We were supposed to meet up remember?"

Jax vaguely remembered a conversation they'd had earlier that may have been to that effect.

"Hey, Tara," Sarah called out. "Are you okay? I heard what happened. I was with Davey picking up my car….is that a bruise?" Sarah walked towards them.

Tara cleared her throat. "I'm fine."

Sarah's smile was pitying at best. And Jax knew she meant for it to have that effect. "I know you are…you had Jax to back you up right? I knew Maize was full of shit when she said he just stood behind you, smirking as it happened. What the hell's gotten into your mother, Jax? She's like Jekyll &amp; Hyde. One minute she's making me oatmeal and the next she choking people your...well, Tara in front of half the town."

Never in his life had Jax ever wanted to hit a female so badly.

As it turned out he didn't even need to.

Tara had finally had enough.

"_Shut the fuck up, Sarah."_

And the force of her words packed a punch of its own.

"Excuse—"

"—You're not excused you duplicitous, _bitch,_" Tara snapped, cutting her Sarah off. "I'm done excusing all the fucked up shit you do...the shit you do to _me. _All the backhanded, passive aggressive comments you make to get under my skin. I'm not excusing you,,anymore. I'm done _making _excuses for you. We're not in elementary school, I'm no longer the knock-kneed girl that hasn't grown into her ears yet. I'm not your shadow and I'm done hanging out in your back pocket. _I'm done with you._"

Once Sarah retained control of her jaw, picking it back up off of the floor, she narrowed her eyes at the girl she'd stopped treating like her best friend a long time ago. "I'm glad you finally grew a backbone, Tara…at least where I'm concerned," she added looking over at Jax. "Any other declarations you want to make?"

"Just one more," Tara sneered. She turned, catching Jax off guard when she gripped either side of her face in his hands, mashing her lips against his, the kiss, the taste of her lips against his immediately sending blood rushing to his groin all over again.

Pulling away, she spun back around to face Sarah. "Jax doesn't want _you…_so you really need to get off his dick."

Sarah's laughter was nasty. "Why? So you can take it for a spin? You wouldn't even know what to do with it."

"If I tell you _mine_ is tighter than yours you're not going to try to choke me are you? I can guarantee you won't be as fortunate as _Gem_."

_Jesus Christ. I din't not need to hear that, _Jax thought to himself.

He was referring to the first part of her statement of course. For some reason he never got around to hearing the question about choking or the comment about his mother.

"Cute," Sarah snarked. "I wonder how my br—"

Jax's eyes widened as he watched Tara slam her ex-best friend into the lockers.

"Keep fuckin with me, Sarah," Tare dared. "I'll match the black eye Donna gave you and throw in a split lip for good measure."

"I see you've got your father's temper….or d_o you?" _Sarah craned her neck around Tara's scowling face. "What do you think Jax? Think she's taking after her old man? I wonder wh—"

"—Let het go, Tara," Jax said, raising his voice over Sarah's as he pulled Tara off of her. "She's not worth it, babe….I'll deal with her. Go see about your manager. I'll catch up with you later….okay?"

Jax felt like tap dancing when Tara nodded.

She mumbled a simple, "Bye," walking away.

Jax turned to glare at the curly-haired blonde in front of him.

He wanted to tap dance, alright. He wanted to tap dance all over Sarah Hale's smugly face.

"What are you gonna do, Jax?" Sarah taunted. "You're gonna straighten me out with your fists? That's the outlaw way isn't it?"

Jax lunged towards her, fists clenched. Sarah ducked unnecessarily. If he'd really wanted to hit her, shrinking down wouldn't have spared her. His fist met its target—the locker right above her head. And it had the desired effect he was aiming for.

Sarah was more rattled than the caved in metal door above her. She flinched when his other hand flew up towards her face. But he didn't crush her jaw between his fingers. His touch was feather-light as he brushed his knuckles against her cheek.

"I was being nice," Jax whispered. "I was willing to bite the bullet _for her. _I was willing to play along with this twisted fantasy you have in your head where you and me end up together. Now I'm saying _fuck that. _She's done with you so there's no reason to try. The secret you're holding over my head? It's not your truth to tell. We both know I'm not the only one you're gonna piss off if you say anything to her….and if you do….I can promise you, Darlin I'll be more than happy _to stand behind _you _smirking as it happens…_she's going to break your fuckin neck."

Sarah's eyes widened in genuine surprise—and fear. "You wouldn't tell her—"

"—why wouldn't I?" Jax barked at her. "Because I'm not a snitch? There's a difference between me talking to the Feds and me letting the club know you're digging up old history just to amuse yourself….and by the club I mean the woman who _made you oatmeal. _I'm talking about—

"I KNOW WHO YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!" Sarah shrieked at him.

Jax shrugged his shoulders and smiled, his eyeteeth looking sharper than ever. "I'm just making sure you understand, Darlin…with the way you've been acting lately I thought for sure all that _coke _you overdosed on a while back permanently fucked up your brain," he remarked, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans.

Jax flicked his lighter against the tip of the cigarette between his lips. Looking up, he almost dropped the lit cancer-stick from his mouth. The stunned expression on Sarah face had laughter clawing its way up his throat.

"Did you really think I didn't know? Tara reversing her statement ain't the only reason your old man backed off. i don't think he wanted anyone to find out how much his daughter liked her nose candy...or the fact that she got from her older brother. It was real nice of you to let everyone go on thinking I corrupted you somehow…pressured you into the ways of the Irish…more whiskey than you could handle." The only thing missing from Jax's barking laughter was a finger to point in her face as he chuckled. "Ah, man...if you know what's going for you, Sarah…you'll keep that big mouth of yours closed until the next guy tells you to open wide."

Jax backed away, walking past her.

"Look whose balls are the size of Texas all of a sudden," Sarah said to his back. "Tara's lips must be _magic._ One little taste and you're ready to slay dragons for that frigid little bitch."

Jax spun back around, blue eyes darkened like the ocean at sunset. "I know whose lips aren't magic. _Yours. _If they were I wouldn't have said her name instead of yours when you were on your knees for me you stupid whore."

Tears welled up at the corners of Sarah's eyes. Instead of guilt, all he felt was victory.

No more venom. The rattlesnake was harmless.

His triumph was sweet without a trace of bitter to chase it.

"How often did you think about her when you were inside of me?" Sarah choked out. "Was it every time? Even the first? _My _first?"

Jax frowned, shaking his head once. "I didn't know it was your first time. You lied to me like you lied about everything else. I would have never—"

"_never slept with me? _Are you really going to stand there and pretend you're one of the good guys? It wouldn't have mattered. You were happy to screw anything with two sets of lips…anything to keep you from taking advantage of little Orphan Tara. She's the only one you can be a gentleman for, right Jax? It's all about her. It always has been…"

Jax waved her off, turning on his heel. "I'm not doing this."

"….I guess you and the guy you call _douchebag _have a lot more in common than I thought. You're both in love with the town charity case...you and Davey…always competing for the same thing. I never thought he'd actually one up _you. _Not Jackson Teller, the Prince of Charming."

An awful feeling was swarming in the pit of his stomach even as Jax opened his mouth to play the game with her one final time. "What the hell are you hinting at?"

Sarah laughed, wiping the tears from her eyes. "You can't take a _hint _to save your life so I'm not implying anything anymore. I'm telling you outright. The girl you can't stop having wet dreams about is fuckin my brother the _douchebag._ How's that for _truth_? Asshole."

Sarah stormed past him.

But it was the force of her words, not her shoulder slamming into his that knocked him off balance.

David Hale was the mystery boyfriend?

Hell no.

Opie would have told him if it was David.

There was no way.

She couldn't be.

But if she was…

_That explains so fuckin much._

* * *

**|REVIEW|**


	28. Chapter 28

**Quick A-NOTE**: _Hang in there with me guys. No one's more anxious than **I** am to get to and surpass John Teller's arc in the Fic. That's when all the fun stuff happens_. *Pinky swear*

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

The further Tara walked past the adjacent boys and girls locker rooms, into the gymnasium, the more she was beginning to regret leaving Jax and Sarah alone. It wasn't jealousy that had her nerves on the fritz either. It was the million and one possible ways that Jax "handling" Sarah could end badly for her—for them.

Especially since nobody _handled_ Sarah Hale.

That bitch was resilient. Nothing could keep that girl down and when she struck back there was always carnage left for somebody else to clean up. Tara didn't want to be collateral damage.

And that's exactly what she would be if Sarah was granted even a second to finish her sentence.

The sentence Tara had cut short, the very reason she'd shoved the grey-eyed blonde against those ugly green lockers in the first place. Tara had been so excited by the idea of Jax putting Sarah in her place, him telling Sarah once and for all who he _really _cared about that she'd left the girl who could ruin her life alone with the very guy she'd use to do it.

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_

She had to go back in there before Sarah did what she did best: Stir the pot. Tara had no doubt that her dating David was ammunition Sarah had been waiting for the perfect opportunity to use. What better time than now?

Kissing Jax must have scrambled her brain a bit because she was all the way on the other side of the gym before reaching this delayed epiphany.

Tara spun around, full prepared to hightail it back into the war zone she'd left behind to make sure she didn't end up being a casualty.

"Tara? _Finally. _I saw your dad's car in the parking lot but I couldn't find you anywhere!"

Tara shut her eyes, squeezing them tight, hoping to chase off the dots beginning to dance beneath her lids.

Opie.

She _really_ wished it was Opie's voice she'd heard behind her.

Or Donna. She'd even take the nosey, judgmental, hot tempered midget right about now.

Tara had no way of knowing if time was on her side, but she knew for damn sure that _luck_ wasn't.

Tara fixed the most neutral expression she could muster on her face before slowly, turning around to face him.

"_Jesus Christ!_" David hissed, reaching out to touch her neck for an entirely different reason that the one from two nights ago. "Baby, are you okay?"

Tara didn't know if her cringing had more to do with his words or his touch and it didn't matter which. She felt shitty all the same.

"I'm fine, David," she answered, gingerly removing his hand from her throat. That same hand moved to brush her hair out of her face, no doubt so she could see the earnest expression he was giving her.

"You have to press charges, Tara. Unser can't make _this_ go away. Half the town saw her do it."

Tara cocked an eyebrow in challenge. "Including you?"

_Jax on the fence about choosing me over his family is one thing. What was your excuse for just standing there? _

_For not making sure I was okay?_

David shook his head. "I didn't want to have to chauffer Sarah around all weekend so I drove her to pick up her car," he said.

_Oh. Right._

He did say he was looking for her when he first walked in.

"I wish I was there," David admitted, his hand slowly gravitating towards the purpling bruise around her neck again. "I can't believe everyone just stood there…. Even Opie…_and Jax_"

"I get it," she confessed quietly, a sad smile creeping into her features. "It's fucked up and I won't pretend it didn't hurt me at first….but I get it."

David shook his head. "You're way too forgiving and it's always for people that don't deserve it."

_You mean people like Jax._

Tara sighed, shaking her own head. "You're too judgmental."

"I just call things like I see them, Tara. I always have," David argued. The lightness in his tone did nothing to belie the conviction behind his words. "You're the same way, Tara. That's one thing we've always had in common."

Tara smiled, shaking her head. "I disagree. I'm not judgmental….I'm _intuitive._"

David rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance. "No, you're a _smart ass_," he teased, finally giving up on trying to keep the smile from spreading across his face.

Tara winked. "But you love it though," she challenged, eyebrows rising.

David's smile dropped. The playful gleam in his eyes seconds before vanished as his face took on an expression so wistful Tara's stomach was immediately in knots. He moved in closer to her, reaching a hand to lightly cup her face, his thumb splayed against the softness of her cheek. His eyes searched hers as if committing their exact shape and color to memory when he leaned down towards her, as he softly nudged her chin upwards.

Panic sent Tara's nerves into overdrive.

Her head was spinning but the anxiety only made her dizzy—it did nothing to waylay the contradicting emotion overtaking other parts of her body. The parts of her that encouraged, that _welcomed_ what was about to happen.

Like her mouth, slick from the tip of her tongue when she'd run it across her bottom lip.

Like her eyes, every bit the green traffic lights as her emerald irises beckoned him forward without the necessity of words.

He was going to kiss her.

Tara liked kissing.

Tara liked kissing the guy that was about to kiss her.

She liked it very much.

"That's not the only thing I_ love_," David breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I love—"

And there it was.

The source of her anxiety, the reason it felt wrong to give in to what her body wanted.

When Tara closed her eyes it wasn't in anticipation of the kiss she knew she shouldn't go through with. She shut them tight, wincing at her own words before they even blew past her lips, out into the open air.

"_David, don't_," she whispered, shaking her head once. Tara stepped back, moving away from his touch, away from his words—away from him. But the distance did nothing to assuage her guilt. Regret permeated the walls of her heart until her eyes burned from tears she refused to shed this time. "Please…_don't say it…_it's not fair…I can't let you…I'm being selfish."

"What are you talking about?"

It was amazing how she knew exactly what the expression on his face looked like before even opening her eyes. When she finally did, the truth crashed down on her like an avalanche, and all the numbness from the cold pooled in her chest.

She was never afraid to tell Jax about David. That wasn't the moment she'd been dreading the most.

The moment she feared was now.

_This _was the conversation she'd been afraid of all along. The one where she'd finally have to admit what she'd been reluctant to accept.

When she finally spoke, her voice was every bit as small as the tear on the end of the _Charming HS 1989 Basketball Championship_ banner hanging on the wall behind him. "The other night you told me to _figure it the fuck out_—"

David was already shaking his head. "—I was angry. I said a lot of sh—"

"—I did what you asked me to." Tara's voice rose just enough to silence him.

"And?" David prompted when she paused.

Summoning courage she didn't know she had, Tara met his eyes. "I like you, David_. _I like the way you make me feel. I being around you. I like being _with _you. And even with all the drama, all the back and forth…even with everything you've ever said or done that hurt me or pissed me off…nothing has ever changed the way I feel about you. I don't know if anything could."

David's mouth quirked up at the corners. The warmth in his smile did nothing to thaw out the ice building up inside her. He moved to close the gap between them again, his smile quickly turning into a frown when she backed away from him—again.

"Why are you—" Tara closed her eyes, cringing once again and David cut his own question short as the words she'd spoken out loud resonated in his mind, shining a bright light on what she hadn't said—shifting his attention to what she was trying to say without using the words at all. "_You like me_." Tara opened her eyes, nodding her head once. "You _like_ me….but you love Jax."

Tara shrugged. "I don't know."

_I really don't. And I'm not ready to figure it out._

"But he's the one you want to be with…you choose _him?._" David's voice barely went up at the end. That's how she knew it wasn't a question. They both knew it. He wasn't really asking. He already knew the answer.

That didn't mean she couldn't give him the clarity he wanted, the transparency he deserved after months of being a stand-in, her security blanket, her plan B. Every accusation he'd thrown at her the other night had been spot on. After weeks of dealing with her hypocrisy, her mood swings, all the hot and cold she owed him at the very least the truth.

"I'm not _choosing_ him, David...if I had a choice you wouldn't even be standing here in front of me right now...because that would mean it's possible to control how you feel…."

But that didn't mean she'd let him completely off the hook. Misleading him was merely a byproduct of lying to herself. And even if she wasn't coming clean, unlike Jax who clueless to what David meant to her, David had known how she felt all along.

"_…_and _you_ can't turn it off either... That's why you're still here trying to make it work with me even though you already knew how i really felt before I had the nerve to tell you._"_

David nodded in agreement even as his frown deepened. "He's gonna hurt you, Tara."

"Then we'll have something else in common."

"Hearts broken by the person we love?"

"I never said I loved him," Tara argued meekly.

"I don't hear you denying it either."

Tara forgot all about being contrite as her eyes narrowed, her temper flaring without any real provocation.

_I guess Jax's rage-o-meter is on the money. Not even ten seconds._

Tara's scowling expression changed to one of confusion when David began to laugh.

"This shit is ridiculous_._...hearing you _say it_...you making up your mind was supposed to help…This is the part where I'm supposed to walk away hating you."

"This is going to sound really selfish but I don't want you to hate me," Tara admitted.

"What _do _you want from me, Tara?"

"Can we be the kind of friends that _don't _occasionally suck on each other's necks?" David scowled, and Tara swore the sweat beaded on her brow from the heat of his glare instead of the lack of AC in the building. "_Too soon?" _

"Way to soon," David grumbled. "That awful joke did the trick though. I think I'm starting to hate you now."

"If that were actually _true_…I'd deserve it."

"I hope he fucks up…_badly. _And don't care if that makes me sound like an asshole. I mean it."

Tara smirked, shaking her head at him. "You just can't wait to say 'I told you so' can you?"

"_Fuck that_. I just want you to see who you're really meant to be with…"

"_David_," Tara whined. "Believe it or not I don't enjoy torturing you….I don't want you waiting for him to screw up."

"You want to me to what? be your friend?"

Tara's answering shrug seemed to add even more of a slump in her shoulders. "I want you to at least _try._"

_I'm a selfish bitch for even admitting it…but you asked._

"Okay."

Tara head shot up. She'd expected him to tell her to kick rocks. Lord knows that's what she would have told him if the roles were reversed.

"_Okay?_"

David nodded once.

Tara had to fight the urge to glare at him again.

And Opie thought her poker face was awful.

"By the way," David said as if something had just occured to him. "I probably should have mentioned it sooner…your manager was looking for you, too. Either she was the only other person besides me and Sarah that didn't see what happened or she doesn't give a shit. Either way she told me if I found you first to tell you packing up the booth is yours and Carlie's responsibility—"

"—which basically means _mine_."

David chuckled. "…and you better finish in time to show up for your shift at the store."

Rolling her eyes towards the ceiling, Tara missed the brief glare David shot over her shoulder.

"I guess you'll have to assure me that being friends is enough some other time," Tara said, grinning despite the new hit her already gloomy mood had taken. "I'll see you later?"

"_Yeah." _Moving in closer to her for the third time, David held his arms out, chuckling lightly when she narrowed her eyes at him. "…Friends are allowed to give each other hugs you know."

_Now who's the smart ass? _Tara thought. But this time she didn't back away.

He wrapped her arms around her waist, pulling her in tight against chest. Their embrace was one of familiarity as she automatically threw her arms over his shoulders, her hands clasping together at the base of his neck.

Tara found herself more amused than annoyed when she had to be the one to pull away first. Still the kiss he'd pressed against her face as she moved her hands from around his neck sent her nerves into a frenzy that had her avoiding his eyes when she mumbled, "_Bye_," before walking past him.

Seconds later she realized she'd taken off in the wrong direction. The exit she needed to go through was on the other side of the gym.

But there was no way she was turning back around. She'd finally made up her mind and she wasn't changing it.

She didn't want to change it.

She also didn't want to get David's hopes up again, not for even a second.

She'd hate _herself_ if she did that.

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**|FOLLOW|** _  
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	29. Chapter 29

**HEADS UP: **Tara-Jax shippers…..just _breathe…._breathe okay? We all know what the [END] game is lol =)

BTW: This is short &amp; sweet (okay maybe just short). Point is..right, exactly. it's straight to the point. This is the precursor to some good old fashioned Teller-rage...the shit that makes roid-rage look like an upset toddler lol

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Jax stood there frozen.

He ignored the ice-cold feel of the lockers against his bare skin as he leaned back against them. Absently, he twisted the |SAMCRO| T-shirt in his hand, wringing it tight like one would a wet towel.

Sarah loved to stir up trouble.

She always knew just what to say to get under someone's skin. And she'd worked her magic on him tenfold. She knew exactly what weapon to use against him. But even though the stab had landed, Jax refused to let her twist the knife lodged in his chest.

Sarah Hale was lying on her ex-best friend purely to get a rise out of him—one that was different from the kind she usually worked for.

But Jax wasn't going to give her the satisfaction—he wouldn't be giving her _any _satisfaction ever again.

Sarah was lying about Tara and David just like she lied about everything else. Everyone around that girl was just another piece on the board for her to play with and Jackson Teller was out of the game for good.

It didn't matter that David Hale being Tara's secret boyfriend made perfect sense. Jax was unwilling to accept that Tara had a good reason to hide the fact that she was with that self-righteous jackass_._ Jax pushed the memory of her getting upset over him talking about seeing David and Maize in the parking lot from his mind. The hesitation in her eyes when he leaned in to kiss her in the cafeteria during their second day of detention was for that _Geek with the bike_ not the guy he hated since junior high school. The _just friends _speech Tara had given him was because she was scared of how strong her feelings were for him not because she wanted to be with David instead.

And Opie Winston was his best friend, his brother, his right hand.

Jax sure as hell wasn't prepared to even entertain the notion that Ope' knew about David the entire time and didn't say a goddamn word.

Sarah Hale was full of shit.

And when he heard the light click-clack of heels against the locker room floor he hoped that it was her, returning for round two. He was more than ready to call her out on the bullshit lie she'd just told him.

It _was_ Sarah.

Again.

But her tears were gone, dried against the apples of her cheeks just as quickly as they'd fallen. She had a look of triumph swirling in her grey eyes, her mouth quirked up to one side like she was in on a joke he'd missed the punchline for.

"You think I'm full of shit, don't you?" Sarah challenged. Crooking her finger at him, she nodded her head towards the entryway for the high school gym. "I already did the _tell _part_…._Come on, Prince. You're missing the _show_."

Slowly, as if his feet were made of lead Jax followed behind her. Sarah stopped short, folding her arms across her chest as she smirked at something all the way on the other side of the gym. Jax followed her line of vision.

And what Jax saw caused a brief stutter in his heart, followed by a frenzied thumping against his ribcage that had his eardrums ringing. There was a tightness in his chest threatening to spread further up North, until the sting of betrayal spread across the handsome features of his face. He was twisting and untwisting the shirt still in hands, every wring a little closer to cutting off the circulation in his fingers.

Sarah turned around, her back facing _them_.

It was obvious she didn't step foot in the gym to bear witness to public displays of affection on the other side of the room. She was there for front row seats to an entirely different show.

When David's eyes darted over towards the corner where they stood, hazel eyes connected with blue. Sarah didn't get to see the sharpness in her brother's eyes, the triumphant smile he wore as he pulled Tara into him, wrapping his arms around her waist. Sarah didn't get to relish the way Tara reached up to wrap her arms around his neck, embracing David's hug as he rested his chin on her shoulder. David pulled back just enough, his eyes never leaving Jax's as he picked the spot between her left cheek and ear, pressing his lips against the skin there. That would have been the cherry on top for Sarah…if she'd been looking in their direction.

She wasn't.

Instead she was studying Jax. Her eyes scanned his face, eagerly waiting.

"I'll give her one thing," Sarah said, standing in front of Jax. "Tara changes my mind almost as often as she changes her own. Once again _I stand corrected. _I thought Tara and _Opie_ were cute together…but her and Davey? _Way cuter._"

Jax could practically see drool pooling at the corners of her mouth. Watching her through the corner of his eye, he knew exactly what Sarah expected—what she wanted.

A reaction.

She was waiting for him to react—fly off the handle.

She wanted to drink in how much seeing the two of them together hurt him. She wanted proof that Jackson Teller had actual feelings that were capable of being hurt…the same way he'd crushed hers.

_No more fuckin satisfaction, _Jackson thought. _For either one of you._

Shaking his head at the curly-haired blonde in front of him once, he offered her the signature Teller smile, the grin that complimented the devil-may care demeanor he normally assumed without effort. The smile on his face took a lot of effort. And every ounce of swagger in his step was forced as he wordlessly turned on his heel, moving past the locker room, heading straight for the side exit he'd come through when he'd chased after the brunette wrapped up in his enemies arms on the other side of the gym.

But his feet moved with ease when he'd finally turned his back on them—all _three _of them.

Especially Tara.

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**FYI:**Even though I'm a natural born procrastinator, a big part of the reason theirs a long delay in the updates is because I'm unsure of where to go as far as the storyline or even which plot to present first or what current one I should maybe wrap up sooner/later. I had **three** plot ideas (post-Jax/David revelation) and not enough feedback from reviews to see which one i should lean towards so I just picked randomly.

**FEEDBACK **on the parts/scenes you like(d) the most helps when I'm trying to figure out what direction I should go next.

I'm excited about all the _**amazing**_ followers (including the guests) I have but so few of you are writing reviews. The shortest Chapter I've written was about 1,700 words but on average each chapter is usually 4,000**++.**

**Please |**_**REVIEW|**__every__*** Chapter._

|**FOLLOW**| as well. Or if you don't have an account (yet) simply sign with your name or a pen name when writing in the review section so I can respond if theirs a question or comment I want to address.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: **"Sometimes a woman needs a slap" - (Not my words; It was hilarious when Charlie mimicked someone saying it though lol)

**-Veritable Old Lady Crow**

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"Wow, Jax," Sarah shouted at his back. "I thought running away was Tara's M.O. Since when did you become such a pussy? She's _the one _right? Why don't you man up and fight for her? I bet she'd love that shit."

No, she'd love that.

Sarah loved being at the center of drama. She enjoyed lighting matches and watching everyone around her go up in flames.

_The fact that you want me to flip out and beat the shit out of your own brother just shows how much of a fuckin sociopath you are, you crazy bitch._

Instead of turning around to face her Jax made his way through the parking lot, eyes darting left to right as he actively searched for one truck in particular.

Piney's.

Where ever the truck was that was where he'd find Opie, and if he was unfortunate—which seemed to be a trend in his life as of late—his pain in the ass girlfriend Donna, too.

Jax was ninety-eight percent sure he didn't really want to hear what his best friend would have to say but he'd be damned if he let another thing slide without getting what _he_ had to say off his chest.

"HEY, PRINCE CHARMING! Didn't your mother ever teach you any manners? You're supposed to look at people when they're talking to you. You trying to hide your tears or something?"

Jax continued to ignore her, right up until he reached the vacant spot where Piney's truck should have been—where it would have been if Opie hadn't already left.

_SHIT._

"Who are you looking for?" Sarah asked, stopping behind him. "Opie?"

Sarah's laughter was pure ice. Jax's teeth may have been chattering if not for his temper, fueling the heat thrumming through his bloodstream, making him grit his pearly-whites together instead.

"You mad he didn't tell you that your childhood sweetheart was blowing my brother when she wasn't busy hiding in a corner to make out with you? I think the Prince Charming title is finally going to your head, Jax. You think you're the only one allowed to keep secrets? How would Harry feel about what _you're_ keeping from him? I tell you what...I'll let you know when I tell him—"

If Jax spun around any faster he would have given himself whiplash.

But when he faced her, he didn't yell. He merely shrugged his shoulders. "Go ahead."

_Fuck everybody. I don't give a shit who you'll hurt right about now._

Sarah's eyes widened briefly before incredulity took over her expression. "You think I won't? I'm not afraid of you or your bullshit threat about mommy dearest. Your parents aren't the only ones with power in this town. If Gemma knows what's good for her she won't come anywhere near me. My daddy's not some loser drunk. He's a judge and a very well respected figure in the comm—"

The car peeled through the lot, towards them too quickly for either teenager to really take cover. Jax was just barely out of harm's way and it was only because he wasn't the target.

The teenage girl standing not even two feet away from him was.

Natural reflexes took over, Sarah slid sideways without even a second to spare as she avoided a head-on collision with the speeding car's front bumper. Falling to the ground, her foot twisted, her leg scuffed from calve to knee as adrenaline abated the pain in her ankle, giving her the strength to get up. The silver four-door screeched to a halt, coming to a stop inches from the patch of asphalt Sarah shot up from.

"_WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?"_

Jax and Sarah's eyes both immediately shot towards the front passenger seat. The wide-eyed, shocked expression on Lauren Vidal's face matched the anxiety in her loud, ringing voice to a tee.

The driver's side door flew open almost as if it'd been kicked, and those same two pairs of eyes—both the grey and the blue—shifted towards the middle-aged woman in a wrinkled floral print dress, stalking towards Sarah.

In the seconds it took Sarah to fully register what was happening, the woman had already grabbed her by her shoulders, swinging her around, the sixteen year olds lower back colliding with the hood of the car.

Jax heard the front passenger side door open just seconds before Lauren ran around the front of the car, blocking his view as she resumed screaming at her mother, stepping back as the woman threw her elbowback when the distraught daughter made the mistake of grabbing her mother's arm.

"MOM!"

Sarah back was to the hood of the car, arms flailing as she failed to avoid angry fists and swiftly striking open palms. Mrs. Vidal clearly couldn't decide between punching and slapping the shit out of her so she chose to go with a combination of the two.

"MOM, STOP IT!"

Lauren grabbed a fistful of her mother's ugly—and undoubtedly expensive—dress, yanking her backwards. Her mother turned just enough to swat her hands away giving Sarah the momentum she needed to sit up. The mad woman turned back around and her face was greeted with Sarah's fist. It was the only blow she landed before her arms were twisted behind her back, her face smashing into the windshield.

Giving up on reigning her mother in by herself, Lauren turned an accusatory glare at the handsome blonde standing behind them with his arms folded across his chest.

"WHY THE HELL ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE? _HELP ME!_"

Jax's heart was racing, the rapid rise and fall of his chest apparent as he watched the scene play out in front of him.

First it was Donna.

Then it was Tara.

When the hell did he become Sarah Hale's personal bodyguard?

_Nope._

Jax had been parched for retribution against the girl getting her ass kicked for a long time now anyway. So unless it looked like the crazy-lady might actually kill Sarah he wasn't lifting a hand to help her with _shit._

He didn't even bother stating the obvious either. He simply shrugged those broad shoulders of his—the one's already shaking with quiet laughter.

Reaching up, he pulled at the cigarette tucked behind his ear. Patting the back pocket of his jeans, he pulled a lighter from inside the denim square, lighting the tip of the cigarette dangling from his mouth.

Jax got one good, measured pull of the cancer-stick in between his lips before the earsplitting screech of yet another car sounded, this time directly behind him.

To Jax's surprise, Mr. Suit &amp; Tie himself appeared. He was already out of his car, brushing past him before he could even turn around good to get an up close look at the damage Opie had done to his face earlier.

"ANGELA!" he yelled as he snaked his arms around the woman's waist, dragging her backward. "_What the hell are you doing?" _he screamed at her as he spun her around so that he was standing between his angry wife and the battered, sixteen year-old girl trying and failing to wipe away the steady flow of tears falling down her face away with the back of her hand. "_She's just—"_

"—A WHORE!" Angela yelled, finishing his sentence. "She's a little slut and you're a fuckin pedophile!"

"Daddy," Lauren whined, rolling her eyes. "You said you'd never do it again. You promised—"

Lauren skirted backwards as her mother whirled around, crazed-eyes widening. "_You knew about this?_"

"It was a long time ago," Lauren argued, her voice small. "He told me he'd stop."

"How could you—"

"_Save the bullshit indignation, mother,_" Lauren snapped. In a matter of seconds she looked like her mother's twin as her own eyes narrowed to slits. "Don't even try to blame your fucked up marriage on me. You knew about them, too."

"Yes, I knew he was cheating you ungrateful little brat!" Angela's arm flew out, her finger pointing behind her. "I thought the bitch was at least old enough to order a glass of wine! Not a _teenager!_"

"I'm surprised there's any wine left for anyone else to order as much as you drink!" Lauren swiped.

_All I'm missing is a bucket of popcorn._

_And a pepsi._

_No, Mountain Dew._

_And some Twizzlers._

"This isn't the time or the place," Rick Vidal tried to argue. His protest was met with yet another fist as his wife abruptly drew her hand back punching him in an already bruised nose.

"_You listen to me, you cradle robbing son of a bitch_," the woman hissed between clenched teeth. "I want you and all your shit out of the house _ta-night!_"

"You can't kick him out of his own house," Lauren argued.

_Another girl with daddy issues, _Jax thought, blowing smoke from his nose. _Hellcats in bed. Ruler's of all that is evil every-fuckin-where else._

"I can do whatever the I want including ship your ass to where your d_addy's _high school mistress should have stayed. _Boarding school._"

Lauren's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You know an awful lot about the _teenager _you claim you knew nothing about."

Angela ignored her daughter's accusation, steeling her gaze on her husband. "I already hired an attorney. He'll be in touch…Your reputation…your career….you _freedom…._This shit could get real messy for you, Rick. If you're smart you'll give me _everything_ I want…starting with not having to see your face when I wake up tomorrow morning. You have two hours to come get your stuff."Angela spun on her heel, walking towards her car.

Sarah, who had been leaning stock-still against the hood of the car quickly moved out of the way, half-limping in Jax's direction.

Opening her car door, she looked over at her daughter. "Unless you're planning on moving into the motel with your father—"

"—Go on, honey," Rick encouraged, rubbing his daughter's shoulder. He kissed her forehead. "We'll figure this all out, I promise."

_Bullshit, _Jax thought, scrunching his lips up to one side of his face. Chewing on the side of his bottom lip, he gave her a quick head to toe appraisal as it suddenly occurred to him that Lauren Vidal was probably the only girl in his grade he hadn't hooked up with.

Besides Donna.

And Tara...not that he_ couldn't_ have. He'd been the one to stop it after all.

_I should have just kept going. Why the hell did i stop her?_

Rick walked away first, purposefully not looking in Sarah or his scorned wife's direction as he got in his car driving off.

"You coming or not?" Angela asked, her french manicured hands resting on top of the open driver's side door.

"You're out of your mind if you think I'm going anywhere with you," Lauren seethed, turning to walk back towards the Charming High School football field where the booths were set up. "I'll get a ride with Stacey."

"Your squad left half an hour ago," her mother argued to her retreating back.

"Then I'll find Maize!" Lauren Yelled back. "Or I'll walk the twenty blocks...just leave me the hell alone, _Angela_."

Angela got in her car and sped off, the glare on her face making Jax wonder if she'd been tempted to run over her daughter instead of past her.

Jax took one final lung-scorching pull of the cigarette in his hand before dropping it on the ground, snuffing it out under the weight of his sneaker.

Sniffling sounded to the right of him. Against his better judgment he looked over at her.

Sarah looked a mess. Her hair was a bird's nest on top of her head, her bottom lip split at the corner. Specks of red dotted her right eyebrow where a nasty gash was. Her skin was already beginning to purple in the space between her left eye and nose. The dampness of her face seemed to magnify the swelling of her cheeks.

But considering she'd just gotten the shit beat out of her all of these things made sense.

The pitiful, puppy-dog look she was giving him did not.

Did she really expect him to feel sorry for her?

"A lot of people in this town seem to think that _SAMCRO _is the problem around here," Jax mused out loud, with a subtle shake of his head. "…and yet every time I turn around it's the _Hale's _stirring shit up…especially you."

Sarah spit on the ground, a glob of red on the dark asphalt. "I hope Harry hates you when he finds out. _Tara, too_."

Sarah spun on her heel, trying and failing to storm off. Instead of the usual saunter she stumbled, the final ounce of adrenaline gone as pain shot through her ankle.

She'd twisted it when she fell trying to get out of the way of the car speeding towards her. Jax had seen it. A sprained ankle made just as much sense as the state of her face.

But the only thing more ridiculous than her expecting sympathy from him was his reaction to seeing her go tumbling over.

Sarah Hale was a troublemaker, no question. She got off on being the center of attention, the architect behind the stages set up for all the drama she created.

She'd known about David and Tara the entire time. She'd told him the truth only to hurt him.

She'd used the secret they both had kept for years to try to manipulate him.

And she hadn't even been back a week and she'd already managed to make Opie Winston, his best friend's life a living hell.

But that was classic Sarah.

She was exactly the same as before she left. Conniving or not she played the same role in his life. Sarah and Gemma—his meddlesome mother—were the only people in his life that hadn't changed. They were the only ones whose actions didn't surprise him…or hurt him even if they pissed him off.

Walking over to her, Jax leaned down grabbing her by her hands to pull her up off the ground. "Which way is your car? Or did you ride here with the douchebag?"

Jax almost laughed at her expression, a cross between confused and nervous.

"It's on the other side of the parking lot," Sarah answered after a pregnant pause.

_Of course it is._

_I should just legally change my name to Prince Charming. Make this shit official, _Jax thought shaking his head.

"This doesn't change anything," Jax warned her, as he began helping her walk through the lot.

"I didn't say—"

Jax pulled away from her, her arm falling from across his shoulders. Sarah barely caught her balance as she looked over at him.

Jax shook his head. "_Shut up. _I'm helping you to your car and then I'm _done_. You say anything else to me and you can make like a fuckin rabbit and hop." Jax's smile was every bit as nasty as hers was back in the locker room. "Do you think _I'm _full of shit?"

Sarah's flaring nostrils didn't have the desired effect with drying blood crusting at the corners of them. She nodded stiffly, and Jax grabbed her hand, wrapping her arm back around his shoulders.

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**THOUGHTS? |REVIEW|**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: **This is for those that have been requesting some Jax VS David action. I wouldn't exactly call it a "conversation" though lol.

**\- V**eritable** O**ld** L**ady** C**row

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They made their way to the other side of parking lot in silence. When they reached her car however, Sarah's voice cut through it.

"Jax—"

_"_I said I didn't want to hear it, Sarah! You and Tara can both go to hell._ Your boyfriend _Harry_ can meet you there!"_

"I'm not talking ab—"

"—I don't give a shit what you're—"

"I can't drive."

"—talking about! I'm done list—"

"I sprained my ankle!"

"SO THE FUCK WHAT?"

"How the hell am I supposed to drive?"

_Shove your feet through the floorboard and ride like the fuckin Flintstones, bitch._

"That's your problem," Jax sneered.

He heard the car slide to a stop behind him before a car door opened and shut. Recognition dawned on Sarah's as she briefly looked at something over his shoulder. "Never mind," she said, leaning against her car door. "You can go."

"_What the fuck?!"_

A light breeze tickled the fine hairs on Jax's arm as he brushed right past him.

Back facing towards him, David Hale was a deer standing right in the cross-hairs of a hunter and he had no fuckin idea.

"What the fuck happened? Who did this to you?"

"I don't wanna talk about it, Davey," Sarah sulked, playing up the damsel in distress shtick to its fullest. "Just take me home okay?"

Jax watched as David's head tilted forward, eyes observing the way she leaned against her car, one foot not touching the ground. "What the hell happened Sarah?" he questioned again.

"_Not now, okay?"_

Jax's barking laughter ripped through the air. _It's like you two share the same fuckin brain. __That and the desire to make my life miserable._

David jerked around towards the sound, his eyes narrowing.

"You think this shit is funny? I don't know what Tara—"

Her name on his tongue was enough to sober Jax up. The laughter died in his throat, incinerated by his own temper flaring.

Jax's death glare wasn't what made David cut his sentence short, however. He was looking between Sarah and Jax, hazel eyes lingering on the marks dug into the Jax's wrists, the scratches on his neck—all courtesy of Tara Knowles.

Not Sarah Hale.

Realization of the conclusion he'd drawn only served as a catalyst to Jax's temporary return to a state of amusement.

"Oh give me a fuckin break," Jax said, smirking.

David either didn't understand the answer Jax had indirectly given to his unspoken question or he didn't want to—probably the former.

He turned towards his sister. "Did he—"

"NO!" Even Sarah was looking at her brother like he had five heads. "Just because he's a dickhead doesn't mean—no, David! _Jesus. _I know you hate him but seriously, get a grip!"

David studied her expression. Satisfied she was telling the truth, David turned towards Jax. "Can't really blame me for assuming… ..._Gemma Teller_ likes to beat on teenage girls. And you know what they say….like mother like _daughter_."

Jax took a quick glance over his shoulder before backing up slowly, his eyes locked with David. He stopped moving when his back hit something sleek and hard.

"Get away from my car, asshole," David said, storming towards him. He stopped short, the widening of his eyes matching the gasp that escaped Sarah's throat when Jax pulled a switchblade from his pocket, flicking it open.

Jax chuckled as a mixture of panic and disbelief muddled David's features.

Holding it out in front of him so both Hale's could see it good, he nodded his head up at the taller of the two, his eyebrows shooting towards his scalp, a predatory smile playing at his lips as he turned sideways—scraping the knife along the glossy black paint of David's car.

All that was missing from David's state of barely contained rage was steam seeping from his ears, but he made no move to come closer to the knife-wielding teenager. Standing eerily still, David's chest rose and fell, his shoulders bouncing feverishly up and down, jaw clenched tight.

Jax's blood was pumping, his hands shaking with the need to ball them up into fists. He was ready for him, so anxious that there was a delay in his understanding of why David wasn't already charging towards him.

Jax looked down at the knife in his hand.

"You afraid of this?" Jax asked, holding the blade up in front of him again. Jax pressed his thumb to the button on the side of it.

Just like that the razor-sharp blade disappeared from sight. And in the same breath he gripped the closed blade in his fingers, spun around and in one motion slammed it against David's driver side window, shattering the glass.

"_SON OF A BITCH!_"

David Hale was a bull and Jackson Teller was all dressed in red. He charged towards him, fist connecting with Jax's jaw.

David was pissed about his car—and unbeknownst to the sixteen year old knocking him to the ground, he was furious that he'd lost the girl he loved to the guy he hated.

But Jax was a tidal wave of undiluted rage that the adrenaline in David's bloodstream couldn't match.

David was angry with Jax.

Jax was angry with every-_fuckin_-body.

And David's face was a welcome outlet for all the pent up frustration he felt.

"Jax! _Stop it_, get off of him! _JAX!_"

Sarah had somehow hobbled her way over to the two boys rolling around on the ground. But her shrieking protests were futile as the fists kept flying—Jax's fists. David had given up on throwing punches as his hands found their way around Jax's throat, squeezing tight every time he managed to throw him off and pin him to the ground.

"_JACKSON_!" yelled a gruff voice.

The undisputable authority in his tone had a familial quality. Unfortunately the sudden appearance of John Teller did nothing to abate Jax's anger—it was merely more fuel on rapidly rising flames.

"Jax! You made your point, bro!" shouted another familiar voice.

Opie: trigger number three.

The only way David's luck would have been shittier was if Tara voice joined in with the other two offenders shouting on the sidelines.

They weren't on the sidelines very long though.

The final shift was in Jax's favor as he shoved David off him, slamming his back against the white lines engraved in the parking lot concrete, his fist crashing against his mouth. Raw knuckles grated against David's teeth, the open air stinging them as he was lifted off the ground by his waist, and pulled backwards, his shirt bunching up above the forearms of the man holding him in his clutch.

Opie stepped out in front of him.

That left JT as the source of his restraint.

Jax writhed against his father, fighting against his embrace—elbows ramming against the limbs shackling him in place with no success.

"You two!" JT yelled, his voice ringing in Jax's ear. "Get the hell out of here! _Now!_"

"Come on, Davey," Jax heard Sarah say.

"Calm down, bro," Opie reasoned. Stepping closer to him, his large figure blocked Jax's view of Sarah helping her brother up off the ground with only half the equilibrium she usually had. "Whatever he said ain't worth going to jail for killing his stupid ass."

JT spun his son around to face him. "You done?" he asked.

Slowly, as if any sudden movement might make his father grab a hold of him again, Jax shrugged JT's hands off of his shoulders, nodding his head stiffly. Once he was satisfied his intent wasn't clear, Jax spun around quickly.

But instead of charging towards the retreating backs of the Hale's he drew his arm back, cold-cocking his best friend square in his face, sending Opie stumbling backwards.

Opie managed to stay upright. Maintaining his balance, shock and confusion flashed in his eyes as his hand flew up to his face, fingertip dabbing against the blood dripping from the cut on his lip.

"HALE? Tara's fuckin _HALE _and you didn't tell me?!"

"This about that Tara girl?" John Teller asked behind him. "_Again?_"

"I'm going to go find Piney," Opie announced, eyes threatening to burn a hole into Jax's face. "I think I'll leave you here to work out all your issues with your _daddy_ before I end up kicking your stupid ass. You only get one free shot. Next time I'm swinging back, asshole..._and I'm not David_."

"Whatever, man." Both teenagers turned their backs on each other, walking off in opposite directions.

"He was your ride, wasn't he? How exactly do you plan on getting home now?" JT called out, following behind him.

"I never said I was coming home," Jax mumbled, not bothering to turn around to face his father.

"Son, listen to me. We can't keep—"

Jax whipped around. "WHAT? What the hell do you want? You in the mood to bond? Is that it? The cemetery is only about ten minutes away from here. Go have a heart to heart with _Thomas_!"

"You're too young to be so goddamn angry," JT mused, shaking his head. "I know a lot of this shit is on me, but Jackson….it's time for you to grow the hell up."

"Into _what? _What have I ever done that you don't do on a daily basis?" Jax challenged. He reached for his shirt, both hands holding up the word |SAMCRO| in large block letter etched across the white tee on his chest. "This is my future right? Anarchy…_Violence…_getting drunk and fuckin around on my Old lady when I'm not too busy running guns."

"That doesn't have to be your life," came JT's answer.

Jax stood there waiting for the solemn look in his father's eyes to crumble, for the punchline to his joke to touch his ears.

Nothing.

"So that's it, huh? I'm not even good enough for your club," Jax said. Pulling his shirt over his head, he tossed it at JT's feet. "Who said I wanted to be a part of it in the first place? That's you and Gemma's dream…well, just Gemma's now I guess."

_"….I used to hate you as much as the rest of them…but then I realized you're just a victim… …. You can't help the family you were born into…"_

Tara was right.

She was also a liar. She never stopped hating him. Whatever that was in the locker room was a fluke. A blip on the radar that meant nothing—to her.

To him it meant….well it didn't matter what it meant.

He was done.

JT sighed, looking down at the discarded T-shirt. "I've been so wrapped in my own pain…my own grief that I've neglected you—"

"—not me. _Us_," Jax corrected. "You've neglected us. You have still have a son a_nd _a wife that need you. Where the hell are you?"

"I'm sorry—"

"I am so _tired _of you fuckin apologizing! Stop saying you're sorry. I don't need an apology!"

_I need you be my father. You're MY father, too….or at least you used to be._

"Just say it, son."

"Say _what?_ What the hell do you want me to say to you?"

"There's a question you've been wanting to ask me."

Jax waved him off. "That doesn't matter anymore."

The small smile spreading across his father's face brought on more confusion than anger. "You're your father's son through and through. You're _my _son and you're every bit as stubborn…just as hot-tempered….and just as righteous. We're cut from the same cloth, Jackson."

Jax rolled his eyes. _Fortune cookie._

_Just like a fuckin fortune cookie._

"It's always going to matter to you," JT continued. "This isn't about a teenage crush. It was never about that."

"I'm gonna go find Ope...and _apologize_," Jax lied, turning to walk off.

"_I never would have let anyone hurt her, Jackson_. Not then…not today. _Never_. She's a child…just like you. You're just a kid, Jackson. Way too young for all the angst and bitterness you're holding onto because of the awful thing you think your father is…"

The proclomation gave him pause. But pride was a pill too thick for Jax to swallow. He was his father's son after all.

He almost turned back around.

Jax almost did what he _wanted_ to do, what they both _needed_ him to do—he almost gave in.

Almost.

Back facing him, Jax's voice was just barely loud enough to reach his father's ears as he spoke the words he wasn't entirely sure he meant, but were words that he _was _sure would the serve the purpose he intended—to hurt.

"_I don't believe you."_

Jax walked away, forcing down the disappointment creeping its way inside of his chest at the lack of footsteps following behind him this time.

* * *

**Bare with me people. Just a _few_ more chapters until everything comes to a head with every plot except ONE lol. I know you come here for the Jax &amp; Tara of it all but despite these characters being wholly borrowed, I'm trying to tell a story, ya know?**

**Stop pulling your own hair. It's prettier on your head, then in your hands 0:-)**

**|REVIEW|**


	32. Chapter 32

**Piney Winston **was always one of my favorite characters.

**Just saying.**

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

Being referred to as a know-it-all is never was never a fun thing for her.

Sarcasm at its best, it was a title people attributed to someone who only _thought _they were right all the time. Tara Knowles didn't think she was right—not all the time.

But if she had a dime for every time she was right, Elliot Oswald wouldn't have had to help her find a part time at a grocery store.

She would have probably owned half of Charming, California.

The field was pretty much a ghost town, the few people remaining were scattered along the other side of the field, by the time she made it across towards the vacant Monroe Market booth. Carlie, the fellow employee that was supposed to be helping her was nowhere in sight—just as she predicted.

And if that wasn't annoying enough, there was someone Tara neither expected—nor wanted—to see, sitting cross-legged on one of the two table she'd be solely responsible for packing away.

"You okay?" she asked. The genuine concern in her voice was just enough to curb Tara's attitude.

"I'm fine. Thanks."

She cocked an eyebrow at her. "You sure?"

"Positive," Tara replied, reaching for random items on the table adjacent to the one Wendy was sitting on top of. Avoiding eye contact did nothing to diffuse the awkwardness she felt at having to deal with concern of her wellbeing from the girl whose usual role was taunting her until she was red in the face—from anger or embarrassment.

Or both.

Lucky for Tara, Wendy's whole "lean on me" routine met an abrupt end.

"Alright then," Wendy said. "Well, your _boyfriend _was looking for you."

_Here. We. Go._

"Appreciate the heads up," Tara answered, diplomatically. "Excuse me."

Wendy slid off the table as Tara pulled at the table cloth underneath her.

"Aren't you gonna ask me which one I'm talking about?" Wendy teased as Tara folded the cloth into a tiny, perfect square, tossing it in a box she'd lifted from under the table.

"Hilarious," Tara grumbled, her tone anything but amused.

_You should take your show on the road._

_And never bring your ass back._

"I hope you're talking about some joke Wendy here just told you," said a gravelly voice, "because the shit you pulled earlier wasn't funny at all. It was _stupid._"

"Hey, _Piney_," Tara heard Wendy said just before she turned around.

As it usually was with Tara, sarcasm—her weapon of choice was fully loaded, safety off.

"_Wonderful,_" Tara retorted. "Another lecture about my disrespectful behavior...and from an actual outlaw this time instead of one in training. Are you here to grant me an opportunity to say thank you for not letting me die of asphyxia courtesy of your Biker Queen? How many points you think that got you on the karma scale? I imagine you still gotta a lot sins to make up for."

Beside her, Wendy wolf-whistled. "_Damn, girl. _You must really like being choked. Even I know when to shut my—"

"—why don't you head out, Wendy?" It wasn't merely a suggestion and they all knew it. "I need to talk to Tara for a minute. You two can gossip later."

_Don't count on it._

"Okay," Wendy replied. "I guess I'll go try to find Jax…who I don't think I have to mention would be _very_ upset if...you know….Tara went missing or something."

Piney turned his glare on her.

Backing away, her hands out in front of her in mock surrender, the mouthy blonde quickly added, "Or _me…._I think he'd care about me going missing, too. _Later._"

_Yeah, right. You never knew when to shut up._

Tara almost laughed out loud.

Piney turned back to face her, the sternness in his unwavering glare quickly melting away the urge.

"Well?" Tara challenged, after a moment of the two of them just staring. "Get on with it, Yogi."

Piney surprised her by smiling. "You're a real smart ass."

"So I've been told." It was a losing battle to keep her own smile from spreading.

"I won't even waste my time giving you history...telling you what this club means to _me_," Piney said. "When you look at us all you see is blood on our Kuttes and you're just as stubborn as your mother was, so there's—"

Tara quickly shook her head, her mouth in a tight line. "Don't do that. Your wife babysat me once when I had the chicken pox…when I was like five. Don't talk about my mother like you knew her. You were next door neighbors with kids that hung out together. Don't try to use her to manipulate me into Seeing Eye to eye with you about your precious biker club."

"I knew your mother," Piney said.

"_Bullshit."_

"I knew her well enough to know you're _just_ like her," Piney argued. "Beautiful. Intelligent. Strong willed. Way too _cynical. _And just a little too smart for your own damn good judging by how often your big mouth is always getting you into trouble."

Tara shrugged, unconvinced. "You're describing the average teenager."

"There's many words I would use to describe you Knowles women," Piney admitted. "_Average _definitely isn't one of them."

Tara eyes drifted over his shoulder, landing on the lone motorcycle parked near what used to be _SAMCRO's _section of the fundraiser. "I don't know what you want me to say to that."

"I don't want you to say anything. I want you to _listen._" Tara's braved a glance up at the man towering over her. "You're who you are in spite of who your father is…who your _family _is. Just like your mother you're better than him...he doesn't deserve you. And even through all the awful shit he's done…all the shit he _does…_all his shortcomings…you love him anyway."

It wasn't a question at all.

Tara nodded stiffly. "He's my father," she answered, her voice quiet.

"He's your _family_," Piney emphasized.

Tara rolled her eyes towards the sky. "Okay, _Okay_. I get it."

"Do you?" Piney questioned. "What do you think everyone would see if they judged you by who your family is? _SAMCRO_ might be far from Saints but we have each other's backs. The sons of anarchy M.C is a family. We're _Jax's_ family. _Opie's _family. It's the only one those boys will ever know. And we got our dysfunctions just like every other family. You should remember that the next time you open your mouth to condemn everyone that they love…everyone that loves them."

_Damn it._

"I was just trying to piss Gemma off!" Tara huffed, her bottom lip in a defiant pout.

Piney chuckled, making her eyes shoot from the patch of ground between them, back up to meet the mirthful twinkle in his eyes. "_I know."_

"Then can you maybe tell the rest of your biker _family _that so that I don't end up buried in the ditch somewhere. I can't have Wendy thinking she's clairvoyant now, too."

Piney's eyes narrowed, but mild annoyance couldn't keep the smile off his face. "You're just a kid, Tara," he explained. "My brother's aren't the red-neck idiots you think they are, sweetheart. They'r smart enough to know when a Child is throwing a tantrum. Honesly most of the guys are surprised you had to balls to say all that shit to Gem in the first place….I'd steer clear of _Happy _for a while though."

Tara's eyes widened. "There's an outlaw thug named _Happy_?"

"Y-uup," Piney drawled, sounding just like someone else Tara knew. "And he's not very _happy _with you right now."

"Maybe I should apologize," Tara joked, hoping like Hell Piney caught on that she wasn't being serious.

Piney snorted. "Yeah. I'll pay good money to witness that conversation."

_"Oh good! You're almost finished!__"_

Tara turned her head towards the squawking to the left of her. Waddling towards them, jumbo-sized purse on her shoulder was Carlie, the future Mrs. Baby-momma Hale.

"I tell you what, Tara. We're in luck," Carlie continued. "Tonight's gonna be a blue moon for sure. All we have to do is bring those two boxes and that big bag over there. Jake's volunteered to pack up the rest of this stuff _and_ drive me to the store. Apparently he doesn't want me overexerting myself," she explained, rubbing her overgrown baby bump. "I guess he's finally good for something instead of good for nothing. At least for today he is."

_Looks like he was good for something else….for _you_ anyway._

"Go on, Tara," Piney said, backing away. "I need to head over to that _shitty bar I call a clubhouse."_

"Bye," Tara said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly.

"Oh yeah," Piney shouted back at her, a few paces away. "The next time you and Jax drink all my damn Tequila you'll be working it off at Club Reaper. I'll even have _Happy_ show you the ropes."

_Ha. Ha._

"Who the hell named their kid Happy?" Carlie asked.

Tara giggled. "I'm pretty sure it's a nickname."

_I hope._

Carlie looked around "You ready?"

_To do all the work while you rub your belly and talk a mile a minute? _

"Sure let's go."

And towards the parking lot they went, Tara doing her best to tune out the young woman rattling off the birthing plan she couldn't give two shits about beside her.

* * *

**|FOLLOW| &amp;&amp; |REVIEW|**...that's all I ask of you =)

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**


	33. Chapter 33

Love you, **hate** you, love to hate you, hate that I love you, **Angsty, **Lusty, Lovey,Make-_**READERS**_-crazy roller coaster ride.

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

Where the hell was this girl?

The _Monroe Market _van was still in the parking lot. And her father's Cutlass was parked in the spot two spaces away from it. Jax had been pacing back and forth for ten minutes, waiting for Tara to show up.

He didn't give a shit who walked up with her either.

There would be no music, no dancing, no laughing and joking—no distractions, not another goddamn deflection.

Sarah was right about one thing. Running away was Tara's M.O, not his. But she wouldn't be running away from him this time. She was going to talk to him, goddamn it.

She was going to admit that she lied to him—he already knew the why.

He'd called it the other night when they were in Opie's bedroom alone. He'd been right from the start. Tara was just like every other girl—like Maize. Only difference was Tara was the true genius.

Pretty little Frankenstein, she couldn't have chosen a better person to make her boyfriend jealous. Why not the person David hated? And all that shit she'd said in the car on their way to school with Sarah, her childhood best friend behind the wheel.

_"…It happened to Opie. It'll happened to you, too. And God help you when you find the girl you can't get out of your head…. …. That chick's going to rip your heart out of your chest and make you eat it."_

It was one of the few moments she was honest with him. But had she known all along that _she _was the girl?

Of course she did. Why wouldn't she know? She knew what she meant to him didn't she? She knew the same way Sarah knew how Opie felt.

Or how Opie _feels._

_JESUS CHRIST._ Was there anything those two girls _didn't _have in common?

_Only one of them is the one you want_, said a voice in his head. Jax was quick to drown it out with the abrupt slamming of his fist against the side of the van in front of him.

Jax shook his hand, holding it out—palm facing down, in front of him.

_Good Job, Jackson. Because your knuckles aren't raw enough._

His mind immediately flashed back to that day in the cafeteria when he jokes with her about how flawless his hands were. Hands that felt right at home, roaming all over her body not even an hour ago.

What was the point in even confronting her? So he could officially confirmed that he'd finally gotten a taste of his own medicine? All the girls he'd run through without even the slightest concern how they felt when he used them. He was wearing their shoes now and they were uncomfortable, a tight fit and not at all his style.

Did he want Tara to deny the truth so he could force himself to forget he ever found out about it? In other words do the very thing he'd bragged to Tara that _girls _always did?

He honestly didn't know who he was more pissed at—_Tara_, for lying to him and using him, or _himself_ for the part of him that still wanted her anyway.

But did he want her really? All of her like he'd thought he did?

Or was this his ego at play? Maybe he just didn't like being bested by anyone, much less David Hale. Maybe that was what he was waiting for: a moment to pretend he knew nothing, a second chance to pick up where they'd left off in the locker room.

Maybe he wanted to turn the Teller-Charm on for her one more time. Maybe he just needed one more opportunity to get her out of his system for good, to check her off the list and still be the first one to walk away this time. A chance he wouldn't forfeit again just because he wanted to do the right thing, to be one of the good guys.

Chivalry was overrated.

What did being the good guy really get you anyway? A neurotic girlfriend that still doesn't trust you in spite of all the ways you try to prove that she should?

Hadn't he been the one to tell Opie that he would never be him?

_"Your _hands_ look almost as fucked up as my _family_."_

Jax stopped mid-pace, looking up to glare at the teenage girl standing just a few feet away from him, casually leaning against Tara's father's car.

"You work at Monroe's?" she asked, nodding towards the newly-dented van, one of the back doors slightly cracked open from the force of the blow he'd landed on it.

_You know damn well I don't spend my time bagging nobody's fuckin groceries, _Jax thought to himself. Out loud he said nothing, hoping his stony silence would be enough for her to take the very obvious hint: If he wanted company he wouldn't be standing in the middle of a fuckin parking lot…alone.

_Keep it moving, bitch, _he thought, doing his all to convey the message with hard eyes.

Instead of walking off she wolf-whistled. "Your mom should sign you up for anger management," she continued. "…but then again after that display at the fundraiser I'd recommend she join you. It must be something in the water….everyone in this town is losing their damn minds."

"Go shoot the shit with one of your pom-pom sisters," Jax snapped. "I'm not in the mood."

Eyebrows raised, her smile was sardonic as ever. "I can see that. The only thing that's confusing me is the _why _part of it. You can't be too upset about your little plaything getting her ass kicked…it didn't seem to bother you when you just _stood there_ watching it happen…but then again you did the same thing with your _other_ playmate…although from what I heard you actually ran after _her_. What's the matter Prince Charming? Tara Knowles not as forgiving as you thought she'd be? I bet _number seven_ is looking like the better choice right about now. _Cheer up, _Teller. She might not forgive you but I bet you you're the only guy that can say you banged the Football Captain's girlfriend."

_Am I the _only _one that didn't know she was dating that asshole?_

"I must be wearing a sign that says _make me hit a female. _You bitches are really tempting me today."

"Maybe that's just the _outlaw _in you." She shot back.

Jax had already turned away from her. He was busy eyeing the dent he'd made in the van, the crack in the door, noting the irony in the fact that he spent his weekdays learning how to fix cars, and his weekends smashing them to all hell.

"I never could really understand what girls see in you," she began, laughing lightly when he jumped at the sound of her voice, turning around to confirm that she'd indeed moved closer to him. "Don't get me wrong, you're handsome and all…but red-neck thugs don't really appeal to me," she continued, rubbing a freshly manicured hand along the skin exposed above his wife-beater.

Staring at her lingering hand as if his glare might burn it off, Jax bit back, "And I don't find snotty rich girls with _drunks_ and _pedophiles_ for parents appealing," he sneered, knocking her hand away from his chest.

Lauren Vidal smirked, glossy lips scrunched to one side of her face. "She might not be rich but Tara Knowles is the snottiest chick I know around here…her dad's an even bigger drunk than _Angie _and if you'd have seen the way ole Arthur was staring at my ass that one time in the post office I'd say she's got the pervert for a parent part locked in as well."

_"What the hell do you want?"_ Jax asked, already sick of the pointless back and forth.

This wasn't what he'd been waiting around for.

This wasn't who he wanted to have it out with.

Jax and Lauren had been going to the same schools since elementary like most of the other Charming kids. He was just fine with their eleven year streak of not having a single interaction. He'd assumed she was too…with her _high sadity_ ass.

"What do I want?" Lauren mimicked. "I'll give you a hint," she said, her hands making their way down his chest again. "…it's the _one_ thing I know you're actually good for…"

Jax's eyebrows rose, surprise overweighing the need to be offended by her statement. "You sure I don't have to buy you a prized pony first?" he taunted.

Her nails scraped against the cloth of his undershirt as she pulled her hand away. "I doubt you ever have to beg for it, Jax…but I know for damn sure that _I _don't…no matter how good you're rumored to be. I guess I'll find another distraction for all the fucked up shit I don't feel like thinking about right now…_your loss_, Teller," she said, backing up to walk away.

"It's actually your loss, Darlin," Jax couldn't help biting back even as he turned away from her again. _Good fuckin riddance._

Where the hell was Tara?

Lauren paused, folding her arms across her chest. "You _sound _like the arrogant asshole I've always heard about…but you're not acting like him. If I'm going by the rumors you should have already taken me somewhere by now. What's your problem, Teller? I know it's not me. I don't give a shit how stuck up you think I am, I saw the way you were looking at me earlier."

"All I had to do was _look at you_ to get you to spread your legs?" Jax goaded, still facing the van. "And here I thought my father had to own a private jet just to get your phone number."

"You sound bitter," Lauren countered. "Don't tell me you've been secretly pining over me all this time."

"Biker trash in love with the girl he can't afford…_I bet you'd enjoy that_," Jax joked. "It's like something out of one of those shitty romance novels you chicks like to read so much." _Bitch please._

"D_on't_ kid yourself."

Jax forced himself to turn around to face her.

_How many ways do I have to show you I want you to FUCK OFF?_

"Why the hell are you still standing here?" Jax asked aloud.

"I could ask you the same question," Lauren challenged. "What the hell are you doing pacing around in a parking lot? You waiting for someone?"

"_Babe the fuckin pig_."

"I'm sorry..._what?_" Even if he hadn't been facing her, the confusion in her voice was enough for him to picture the expression on her Lauren's face.

"Nothing," Jax answered, chuckling bitterly. "_Yeah_…I'm waiting for someone."

_I'm always waiting._

_I'm sick as shit of waiting on people._

* * *

Kyle may have dodged a bullet with Tara Knowles but he was seconds away from Jackson Teller punching him in the face.

The two of them were never friends.

Kyle Hobart was a prospect for a motorcycle club Jackson's father happened to be the founding president of. The twenty minute drive to the Teller-Morrow was supposed to be a quiet one.

But Kyle couldn't shut his damn mouth.

"….and I admit I was being a dick or whatever but _man! _That shit was crazy, Jax! And then when you ran after her…and even Opie was like….I never saw your mother get like that. No wonder she's the Head bitch in—_umm I mean Matriarch! _Wow. I can't believe…..Is Tara okay?"

At the sound of her name, Jax finally turned his glare from the open window to the young man behind the wheel of the Teller-Morrow tow-truck.

"You mean the girl who only gets on her knees for me? The aspiring _Mrs. Prince Charming?"_

Kyle's eye flew to the road ahead of him. "Hey, man. I didn't mean any disrespect towards you. Tara's just so damn stuck up all the time—I mean you know how she is right? Even your mother can't—"

"—If you know what I know you'll shut your fuckin mouth," Jax barked.

"Sorry, man."

"Everybody's _sorry_ today," Jax griped. "It's a recurring theme in my life lately…_Just drive_, Kyle."

"You got it, bro."

* * *

**QUICK FYI: **As I'm sure you noticed, I decided to do a minor scene-jump for this chapter. I had written two different versions of the Tara-Jax confrontation: One from his POV and one from hers.

I liked Tara's POV more. Hope you guys will, too.

But before you hit the [NEXT| button...

**_|REVIEW| &amp;&amp; |FOLLOW| =D_  
**


	34. Chapter 34

To **Joelle nettimclaughin: **_ROGER THAT_**! **I never intended to cheat you guys of an epic toe-to-toe with Ms. Knowles &amp; Mr. Teller.

Hope you guys like it. It wasn't a cake walk getting it all to come together on the page.

\- **V. Lady Crow**

* * *

"….I read all the baby books Karen gave me from when her sister had Russell so I already knew what to expect…..Braxton Hicks! You'd think my O.B was the one experiencing false labor as annoyed as she got when I showed up at her office the third time. Excuse me if I don't want to risk giving birth to my child in the frozen dairy aisle at work…._ Abigail! _ He wants to name the baby Abigail! As if I'd name my baby something so awful. And I looked it up. It means _Joy of the father_. Daddy wasn't so overjoyed when I decided to keep it!"

"I don't care," Tara said, giggling when—just as she suspected—Carlie didn't hear a word she said. She just kept on going.

_Where's a roll of duct tape when you need it?_

Carlie was still clucking away as they approached the van.

"….I decided I'm not going to petty. If he wants to try and work things out I'm ready to—_what the in the hell?!"_

Tara was equally relieved and horrified that she hadn't been imagining things.

The abrupt stop of Carlie's self-told life story—that and the appalled expression on her doughy face was proof that they were seeing and hearing the same thing.

They both stood there in stunned silence a moment, watching the van rock lightly back and forth. The moans emitting from behind the foggy, dark-tinted windows had Tara's mind flashing back to several mornings ago. The thump of Opie's headboard and Donna's falsetto chanting sending her running out of the Winston house.

_What the f—_

Carlie reach for both handles, wrenching the double doors open.

Bare hips rose up as he gripped her waist, pulling her down to meet his every thrust. Lauren's gaze was unfocused, eyes rolling back, mouth opened wide as her firecracker red nails skimmed across the tanned, lean muscles of his shoulder blades, her other hand scaling up and down his lower back, each time just a little closer to curve of his pale, sun-deprived ass.

That back looked awfully familiar. It looked a lot like the back her own hands caressed before. And that head of slicked back blonde locks looked too much like the head of hair she'd run her fingers through when her back was against those lockers. And when her legs were locked around his waist as he'd eased on her on her back in Opie's bed.

It was Jax, no question.

Tara was surprised she heard Carlie's outburst over the screaming in her own head.

"My _God. _It's like I'm reliving my own stupidity. It must be a townie thing...women losing their panties and all the good sense their momma taught them in backseats and parking lots."

If Jax and Lauren were aware they had company they didn't show it right away.

_"…..oh God…hmm…Oh my…hmm….Oh _shit!_…._"

They'd walked up just in time to watch them finish—her finish anyway.

Tara failed to swallow away the bitterness on tongue as she the look of pleasure on Lauren's disappeared behind the dented van door as Carli quickly pushed it close, the door snapping shut with a loud bang that neither teenager inside could ignore.

"Shit!" They heard Lauren whisper breathlessly. "I think the owner is—"

Carlie lightly tapped on one of the fogged back window, choosing the door she'd actually she'd actually closed. "Umm…you two need to find someplace else to—look, just get dressed. If you hurry it up I won't even call the cops. I got a shift to make anyway. Tara, what are you—"

Tara yanked the van door fully open again, fire in her veins, her green eyes—pure ice.

Lauren's eyes locked with her. "And everyone thinks you're such a prude. I didn't know you were into voyeurism, Knowles," she commented, buttoning her blouse back up.

"You'd be surprised what she's into," Jax commented, his voice hard as he pulled his boxers and jeans the rest of the way up. The toned muscles of his back were still facing Tara as she heard him slide his zipper up, the button of his jeans snapped in place with a light pop not unlike the crackling in the air.

Picking his discarded shirt off of the corner of the van floor, Jax turned around to face her. She hadn't missed the anger in his voice when he'd spoke out, yet Tara's eyes still widened in disbelief at the icy glare he was shooting her.

Whether it was the sex she'd just walked in on, her own closure in the gym with David or a combination of the two—for whatever reason her ex-boyfriend and his troublemaking sister couldn't have been further from her mind.

They never even occurred to her.

_Are you kidding me with this shit?_

"_Chop chop,_" Tara heard Carlie say beside her as she continued her stare off with one Jackson Teller.

This wasn't like before, standing in front of her house debating over who had to ride in the backseat of Sarah's car. Neither teenager had to try to decipher the others mood. Anger was embedded in both of their features.

_Why the hell are _you _pissed? _Tara thought._ I'm the one that just caught you with another girl TEN SECONDS after telling me you want _me_._

_You want me and every other girl too I guess. _

_I'm such a fuckin idiot._

_I can't believe—_

Tara's internal outrage choked off as an annoying truth occurred to her.

It was a harsh pill to swallow but she really didn't have a leg to stand on with what she'd been hiding from him all this time.

And they weren't together—not yet.

If ever.

_You know what, FUCK being the rational one._

That didn't mean she couldn't still be pissed the hell off.

"All your clothes are on. _Who gives a shit how they look?_ Just get the hell out, _Sage._" Tara snapped, calling the busty blonde by her real given name instead of the one she'd officially assumed ever since the spoiled brat's failed attempt at getting her parents to legally change it way back in Junior high school.

It was a testament of the American Judicial system. Whatever judge denied her Daddy Vidal's lawyers request was the Oompa Loompa to _Sage's _Veruca Salt.

"We need to talk," Jackson barked, his still naked chest, rising and falling in tune with the flaring of his nostrils.

_Yeah, no shit._

Tara's eyes narrowed, her jaw clenching. "I'll deal with _you_ later."

"_Fuck that_. We're dealing with this now."

"Later is actually better," Carlie interjected, checking the watch squeezing the life out of her chubby wrist. "Jacob should _hopefully_ be here any second. You think you can table this little high school drama until recess tomorrow, kids?"

If Lauren was anything like the first name her parent's had given her at birth she would have kept her mouth closed and backed away slowly.

But she wasn't very _sage _at all.

"Well _this_ was fun," Lauren commented, tucking her blouse in her skirt as she stepped down out of the van. "It's no wonder so many girls are part of the Jackson Teller fan club. I may just have to join myself…I'm starting to see the obsession…with certain _parts_ of you anyway." Looking over at a stony-faced Tara, she had the gall to widen the shit-eating grin spread out across her face. "_Cheer up, Knowles_. I promise I didn't break it. He's all yours. I'm done…_for now._"

Tara's arm snapped back—right fist flying forward, colliding with the grinning girls face. That same right hand immediately flew up to Tara's wide, O-shaped mouth as what she'd just done dawned on her only after the damage was already reflecting back at her.

"_Jesus Christ_," Carlie shrieked. All three teenagers were too preoccupied to notice the conclusion Carlie had drawn after briefly looking back and forth between the three of them.

"I think you broke my nose you _crazy bitch_!" Lauren's voice was muffled behind her own hand as she padded her fingers along the blood trickling down from her nose.

"So what if I did. Your plastic surgeon broke it _first_," Tara said shrugging her shoulders. She fixed her heated emerald gaze on the blonde girl standing in front of her, actively trying her best to ignore how much the _new_ expression on Jax's face pleased her as much as it pissed her off.

"Cheer up," Tara continued, throwing the bleeding girls words back at her. "… Just give the good doctor a call. Tell him that _deviated septum_ problem you lied to all your friend's about is back somehow."

"Wait until my father hears about this!"

"She's a cashier at a grocery store, honey…not CEO at some fortune five hundred," Carlie joined in again, her own eyes narrowing. Tara's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. _What the hell are _YOU _angry about? _"You seriously threatening to sue her? You can't squeeze blood from a turnip….I tell you…you girls love to play the victim when you're messing with somebody else's man…."

And just like that Tara knew what Carlie's assessment of the situation was.

And how she naturally found a way to relate it to her own personal bullshit with the second sluttiest Hale—Jacob Jr.

"…...girls like you are the reason I'm…."

All three teenagers went right back to ignoring the babbling pregnant woman standing with them.

Tara rolled her eyes, unfazed by Lauren's threat. "Something tells me your daddy's lawyers are going to be a little preoccupied with other things," she taunted.

"_Is it true?"_ Lauren asked. Her returning smile was one of triumph, equal parts amused and nasty. "Did I just fuck your _man_? Your knuckles are gonna be as raw as his are if you have to punch every girl Teller's sleeping with…_today alone _I'm guessing."

Instead of responding—or throwing another punch—Tara stood there in stony silence. Jax had procured a cigarette from somewhere. Shirtless still, his wife beater was in his lap as he sat on the floor of the van, flicking the lighter in his hand on and off not yet bringing it to the white stick dangling between his lips.

Lauren didn't wait for a response either. She was wise enough to walk off while she had the chance this time, her shoulder brushing against Jacob Hale's as she sauntered past him.

"_What's going on here?"_ Jacob Hale grunted from behind them.

Jax looked up, Carlie and Tara turning around at the sound of his voice, the strain it an obvious result of the two folded tables coupled together in his arms.

"These kids are about to raise my blood pressure," Carlie answered.

_"_I'll see you at work, Carlie," Tara commented, turning to walk over to her car.

Tara heard the van shift behind her as Jax climbed out of it. She picked up her pace as she heard his footsteps trailing behind her.

"_I don't fuckin think so_," Jax said, slamming the driver's side door shut as soon as she pulled the handle to open it.

_And here we go. _

"I'm done doing everything according to _your _mood," Jax growled. "I want to have this conversation _now._"

"That's too damn bad, _Prince_. My life doesn't revolve around what _you _want. And unlike you I don't have a safety deposit box full of blood money to keep the lights on in my house. I actually need to keep _my_ part-time job."

_Hey, I tried Piney._

Jax's eyes darted towards the glossy exterior of the Cutlass she was leaning against. Tara swore she saw his foot twitch, almost like he was fighting the urge to kick the car. "Tell that redhead bitch you got sick," he suggested, wringing his shirt with both hands. "….tell her the stress from nearly getting the life choked out of you is too much and you the need the night off."

Momentarily distracted by his reluctance to finish getting dressed, Tara was caught off guard by the brashness of his statement. Her eyes deviated from his naked chest to meet his eyes. Shaking her head at him, she frowned. "_I can't believe you just said that shit to me._"

"It's the truth!" Jax argued. "She shouldn't even be making you work. You should call in sick or something."

That sexy six-pack of his was doing him no favors this time.

"Why the _hell _would I do that? So we can sit around and figure out how I fit into your timetable? I guess _Sarah Saturday's _are off the schedule now so that's where _Sage_ fits in. Let's see….how about have Maize_ Monday's, _Tara _Tuesdays, _Wendy _Wednesdays…_oh! And Stacey _Sundays?! _That's some irony for your ass considering how much you two enjoyed Sunday school together."

Jax folded his arms across his chest, one eyebrow cocked towards his hairline. "You done?"

"Almost!" Tara shrieked. "We still need girls for you to screw on Thursdays and Fridays!"

"_I tell you what_," Jax said moving in close to her, as if the heat of his own glare wasn't apparent enough without the extra proximity. "Since you're my favorite let's make it Tara's _Thursday's, _too. An extra day just for you."

"That just leaves Friday then. What lucky girl gets to have you at the end of every week?"

"Six is about all I can handle, Darlin," Jax bit back. "How about I sit Friday out. _You_ take the extra day. Let's see how many times you can make that douche bag shout _T.G.I.F _before you realize that when it's done right, _you're _the one that's supposed to be doing all the screaming."

Tara was helpless to stop the sound that escaped her when her breath hitched, Oxygen lodged in her throat mid-inhale. Her eyes ballooned in sync with the razor-sharpness of Jax's smile as he nodded his head at her.

"I'm sorry if _David _fucks up the whole alliteration thing you have going on but I have a solution…. Since it's your day we can call it _Floozy_ Fridays."

"Sarah told you."

It wasn't a question. She already knew the answer.

"It doesn't matter who told me because it wasn't _you_," Jax accused. "Or Opie."

"It's not his fault," Tara argued.

"Don't you think you should be more focused on how _you _fucked up instead of him?"

"I didn't mean for you to find out the way you did," Tara replied. "And I'm sorry if it hurts you because—"

"Fuck being hurt. I'm _pissed. _You didn't hurt my feelings, Tara. You betrayed me."

Tara scoffed. "_Grow the hell up,_ Jackson. I don't owe you a goddamn thing. I can be with whoever I want. I don't need your permission or your approval."

"I guess not."

Jax took a step back. Tara thought—silently hoped—it was just so he could pull the shirt in his hands over his head, but once he'd already put it on he still kept walking backwards.

"That's _it_?" Disbelief bled from her tone.

"I don't think your boyfriend would approve of what we were doing earlier," Jax taunted. "Don't worry 'bout it, though. That's the last time you'll have to apologize to him because of _me_."

"I broke up with him…_for_ you,asshole," Tara confessed. "I'm already starting to see how stupid that was."

"_Stupid _was going out with him in the first place," Jax barked.

_The FUCK?_

"Who the hell are you to judge me for dating _anyone? _You sleep with everything in a skirt. I could put a dress on a fuckin broomstick and you'll be ready to take it for a ride!"

"I bet you know the names of every girl I've ever been with."

"One of the many perks of living in a small town," Tara snarked.

"And I never lied about _any _of them," Jax continued. "I didn't hide them from you….You can call me a man whore, an asshole. Whatever the hell you want but you could never say I lied to you about anything…especially who I care about…whether you get along with them or not. All you do is lie to me, Tara. It's always one bullshit story after another. Half-truths and changing the subject when it's time for _you _to be honest. How the hell am I supposed to trust you? How can i even take this seriously?"

There was a pregnant pause where neither teen said anything. They just stared, shuttered blue eyes locked with a gradually remorseful green.

"_I'm sorry_," Tara said finally.

"Save it for Hale," Jax remarked.

Tara sighed. "Jax, I just told you—"

"I SAW YOU!" Jax yelled.

"How? When? Jacks—"

Jax shook his head. "—It doesn't matter. _I don't believe you_. Right now I don't believe anything you say. I don't give a shit if you're pissed about Lauren or about my mother. And right about now I need to be the one to walk away from _you…_because if I actually try to put how I feel about you…what I _think _of you into words you might shed tears I won't be sticking around to wipe away, Tara. You didn't want to be late for work, right? Go ahead. _I'm out of here._"

Jax turned his back, stalking off in the opposite direction.

And Tara was damn proud of herself.

She didn't let a single teardrop fall until after he'd walked away.

* * *

**ALMOST THERE, PEEPS. One more chapter to go before the [... ... ]**

|REVIEW| **_then_ **click [NEXT]


	35. Chapter 35

Jax yanked the door to the dorm room open without bothering to knock. It didn't sound like he had company but if Donna was there she didn't have to worry about Jax sneaking a peek while she rushed to get dressed. Jackson had only one target in mind and his vision was laser-focused.

Pen in hand, Opie looked up from the stack of papers and books scattered across the bed in front of him.

"You writing love letters to Donna?" Jax taunted. "Or did she promise you a cookie if you finished all your homework?"

"I guess sucker-punching me didn't make you feel better," Opie commented dryly. "You're still acting like a little girl."

"You're a lying piece of shit!"

Opie smirked, looking up at him. "Now you sound like my girlfriend. _Are we breaking up, Jax?_"

Jax's eyes narrowed to slits. "We're supposed to be brothers and you got me chasing my damn tail. Telling me to go for her when you knew she was just using me to make that pussy jealous."

"I _am _your brother, jackass. What I'm _not _is Tara's keeper. What she does is her business, not mine. And it's definitely not any of yours. She doesn't have to hide who she's with from you."

"Then why did she?"

Opie tossed the pen in his hand on the page he'd been scribbling against. "Did you not just hear me? _Ask her. _Stop trying to put me in the middle of your bullshit. And while you're at try growing a dick and telling her how you feel."

"I already told—"

"—well then she doesn't believe you! _They never believe us! _Donna? Tara? _Gemma_? How many examples do you need? It's a chick thing, bro. They're all out of their fuckin minds! And they think they know every damn thing…until we prove them wrong. Wake the hell up! You're supposed to the ladies man, not me. You can't really be that fuckin slow."

Jax shrugged at his friend's advice. "It doesn't matter now."

"It doesn't matter because _you're _the pussy. Not Hale. And you're full of shit, too. You never once told her how you feel."

"I showed her—"

"—by trying to take her clothes off? How is that any different than what you do with Wendy or any other chick? Knowing you want to sleep with her isn't enough, stupid. If that was the case, Kyle would be hitting that instead of taunting her until she's getting choked in the middle of a fuckin fundraiser."

"_Fuck you."_

"That's your answer for everything. No thank you. I have Donna for that."

"Not for long," Jax retorted. "She doesn't _believe_ you, remember?"

"At least I'm trying to defuse the crazy. You're running around throwing tantrums like you're the boyfriend she was cheating on instead of the one she's cheating with. It's like you're waiting for Tara to fall into your lap."

Jax cocked an eyebrow. "How do you know she hasn't already?"

Opie shook his head. "For your sake I hope not because if you're acting like this now you probably already fucked her over. I don't see you getting another chance any time soon."

"_Awww. _I keep forgetting you two are _sisters_. You know her so well."

"You know her better than I do," Opie admitted, glaring over at him. "But I know _you. _If you were really done with her you wouldn't be flipping out on me right now so don't do it."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Whatever fucked up shit you're thinking of doing to even the score."

Jax rolled his eyes. "What score?"

"_Exactly_. There's no scoreboard because it's not a game. Just talk to her."

"Like she talked to me about Hale?"

Opie picked up the pen, launching it at his best friend. "Do it _before _you make a dick move and you lose her."

"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, _brother_."

Opie chuckled. "It's like I said. I know _you. _You're gonna do the opposite...or did you already do it?"

Jax scowled. "If you know me so damn well, why even bother telling me what _not _to do?"

"For Tara, retard. You're not the only one that cares about her."

"How _sweet_."

Opie got up off the bed, brushing all his school materials into one pile before grabbing them up, stuffing them into his bag. "You know what? I'm gonna go find my _crazy _girlfriend and listen to her whine instead. At least when she bitches to me I get sex afterwards."

"You're right," Jax confessed to Opie's back as he leaned across the bed to grab his sweatshirt. "…about the dick move, I mean."

Pulling the hoodie down over his head, he turned to face him. "What the hell did you do?"

"It doesn't matter," Jax argued. "Unlike _you _Tara knows she's the one in the wrong. Not _me._"

"Haven't you caught on yet? You can't have your cake and eat it, too. Not with the chicks we're into. You can either be with them….or you can be _right_ and watch them walk away. You can call me pussy-whipped if you want but I know one thing. It's only fun to watch Donna leave when I know she's coming back. And when she does…_that's even more fun_."

"I can see, that," Jax commented, smirking. "I don't call you pussy-whipped for nothing, bro."

"Y-uup," Opie drawled.

It was lightning fast when Opie's fist shot towards Jax's face, catching him square in the jaw.

"_What the fuck, Ope?!"_

"That's for earlier," Opie said, laughing. "Now…I can either go get laid, or sit here and listen to your bullshit. Guess which one I'm choosing? _Move._"

Jax slid aside, holding his right to his hand to his face, giving himself something to do beside retaliate with his own right-hook. "You going to that party at the Hale's later?"

Opie looked back at him, his hand still turning the knob, pulling the door open. "Why? You hoping the football captain's _girlfriend_ will be there?"

Jax made a mad dash towards him, almost running face-first into the door as Opie slipped through it, laughing his ass off. "You better kiss and make up fast," Opie yelled. "Or she'll be back with Hale in a week! Mark _my_ words, Jax."

* * *

**ANDDD..._THAT'S A WRAP! _ **(_NOT_ THE STORY...so many people are getting confused lol. I meant* this ARC is over)

**_WHOOO._**

**I'm finally done with **Charming Fundraiser**-gate.**

**_I really need to see a doctor about this rambling problem I have. I'm afraid it's extended to my fingers on keyboards, touch-screen or otherwise. :-P_**

FYI_: _**The VERY next chapter ****I post WILL BE featuring the Night of the party at the Hale's (#Finally). All my V-lady Crow Charming-verse **vets** know what happens. And when tragedy strikes, that's when our Charming favs show their true colors, how they really feel...they can't help it.**

**As with all fun stories they'll have their curve balls but this final arc that I've donned the **"John Teller"** arc leads into the fun stuff I had already written scenes for ages ago. I'm shocked I was able to bang out this much build up without posting one-shots of those very scenes instead of holding out.  
**

**Don't forget to |REVIEW|**

X**o**X**o**


	36. Chapter 36

**QUICK SHOUT OUT: **_Congrats to** Summerd123 **on starting her own Fanfic. You guys should definitely check it out. I know I will. We can never have too many SOA fic's am I right?_

**A/N:** I got a pretty heavy workload and a deadline attached to it so I won't be doing multi-chapter updates consistently for a little while. You guys are **awesome** though! So the continued feedback (reviews) will definitely encourage me to write for this fic whenever I do have some spare time **=)**

\- **Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

Solidarity, in a manner of speaking was a good thing.

Tara was all for women sticking together, having each other's backs. There was nothing wrong with being supportive. And she could never say that Carlie Jacobs took pity on her either. It was quite the opposite. She saw Tara as her equal, yet another female scorned by those selfish, ungrateful, unreliable human beings called men.

But her attitude towards the agitated fifteen year old girl from the time their shift started was about ten percent _girl power _and ninety percent "Jacob Hale screwed me over, too. Let's be angry about _that_ together!"

By the time the closing time came along Tara was convinced that she'd rather pick up all of Carlie's slack and every other employees as well than endure hours of the mother-to-be trying to induct her into the _He-man hater's club_.

Seriously, she just wished she would shut the hell up.

Or that her water would break so she could get carted off to the hospital and bitch at all the medical personnel until they sedated her chatty Kathy, I-can-make-anything-all-about-me ass.

Walking through the vacant store parking lot towards her father's Cutlass felt a lot like early release on a lengthy prison sentence.

And normally the ride home from work was peaceful, quiet.

Tonight was different.

At work she didn't have a moment to think between doing her job (unlike some people) and Carlie's ("_some_ people") nonstop complaining but now that she was all alone with her thoughts she couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened.

Most of the day's events made sense.

But there was one part in particular that was bothering her.

Gemma Teller snatching her up by her neck was far from shocking. That woman loved to make an example out of people and Tara had given her the perfect opportunity by opening her big mouth.

Piney Winston loved to take time out of his outlaw schedule to have heart to hearts with people he felt needed guidance—even the short-tempered teenage girl that lived next door. Hell, even his son had a few earnest moments every now and again.

Donna Lewis, was Donna—the same as usual. Quick to make the wrong assumptions and even faster with starting a confrontation.

And all the girls of Charming High did exactly what was expected of them after two years of witnessing it all—they flocked straight to Jackson Teller. He was the shit and they were a swarm of eager flies.

All the girls—including her.

Today was the first time Tara felt like one of them. It was the first time he _made _her feel like one of them.

He'd gotten her right where he wanted her, too.

Pulling out of lot, Tara cringed at the memory—her back against those lockers, her legs around his waist. The Teller Charm won out again. He knew his target well, he'd hit the fuckin bull's-eye the way he always did.

And all it took was telling her he wanted her.

All it took was threatening to walk away from her.

It was the cruelest of combinations—and it worked like a charm.

His charm.

Prince _Charming_.

He could have taken whatever he wanted in that moment. She'd caved, gave in—those mere minutes, that felt like hours when she'd thrown caution to the wind and did what her body told her to do, overriding the logic in her mind telling her that it wouldn't _this _easy.

_I'll just break up with David and be with Jax._

She knew it was a fairytale when the thought first occurred to her. And with trifling, spiteful bitches like Sarah Hale around she knew it wouldn't end in Happily Ever After.

So why the hell did she do it?

And perhaps the better question was, Who the fuck does Jackson Teller think he is?

Yeah, Ok.

She lied.

Well, not really.

He never asked who her boyfriend was.

And she didn't tell him it _wasn't _David.

Did she know it would bother him? Yes.

Was that the reason she kept it from him? Definite yes.

But that didn't give him the right to be pissed at her.

That didn't make it okay to fuck some spoiled brat right in front of her just for spite. That wasn't even eye for an eye. That was getting hit with a water balloon and retaliating with a fuckin bazooka.

_Why the hell do I even feel bad? Why do _I _feel guilty at all?_

She made her choice.

It might have been a little late in the game but she still chose him. What more did he want?

Trying to decipher the motivations of a fifteen year old boy was every bit as futile as trying to sort out her own confliction.

Hormones alone was a bitch to deal with. When you peppered them with feelings it was impossible.

Lowell Junior was a welcome distraction from trying to do the impossible.

Tara eased her foot on the gas, rolling her window down to call out to the boy walking along the side of the dark, empty road. "_Lowell?_"

Lowell slowed his power-walk, peering into the car. "…oh hey, Tara! What's up?"

"I thought you lived near Jax," Tara commented.

Lowell nodded. "I do."

"By car its no problem…but that's a nice hike by foot," Tara noted. "Not that you can't handle yourself or anything…but isn't it a little late for you to be walking that far by yourself?"

"It wasn't really my plan," Lowell answered. His laughter was nervous. "I was at that diner across from Monroe's with my old man…I guess my dad's had a lot on his mind lately."

Tara considered his words. She shook her head as it dawned on her. "Your dad left you?"

"It's cool," Lowell said, shrugging. "Lumpy says I need to do more cardio anyway."

Tara pulled the car to a complete stop. "Get in. I'll give you a ride home."

"Nah, that's okay."

"I wasn't asking."

Lowell shook his head, speeding up to a nice jog. "You don't have to—"

"—you remember what I did to you in the gym the other day?"

"You almost gave me a concussion but I didn't suffer memory loss so yeah, I remember," Lowell said, chuckling. "Now that you've mentioned it how are—"

"—I'll do it again."

"Huh?"

"Get in the car…or I kick your ass," Tara threatened. "Your choice."

Lowell laughed. The laughter died, when the sternness in her expression didn't change a tick.

His eyes widened and Tara had to fight against her own laughter bubbling to the surface. "I don't have all night, LJ. Let's go."

"You're seriously threatening me—"

"Get in the car!" she screamed before losing the battle, giggling.

"Yes, m'am," Lowell said, jogging over to the other side.

"Call me m'am again and I really _will_ kick your ass."

"Sorry." Lowell strapped on his seat-belt, before turning to give tara an impish smile. "Thanks, Tara."

"Just putting coin in the karma bank."

_Won't be the first time I filled in for a crappy father either._

"My mom's doing an extra shift at the hospital," Lowell commented after a moment or two had gone by.

Tara nodded, stopping at the red light. "She's a RN right?"

"Yeah," Lowell answered. "umm…I was wondering if…you know what never mind…"

"What is it?"

"It's just Teller-Morrow is closer…and that's probably where my dad went anyway…and I don't have my keys…although I guess I could wait outside…"

Tara sighed. "I'll give you a ride there."

_But I'm dropping you _outside _the lot._

No_ way in hell I'm driving inside._

_Can't count on the town for witnesses there._

"Cool," Lowell replied. "Thanks."

"You thanked me already."

"Right…sorry."

Tara smiled, shaking her head as she turned a corner. "Why are you always so awkward around me? We've know each other since Kindergarten. Besides I'm the spaz that almost beat your head gear off. I should be the awkward one right now."

"I'm awkward with everyone I guess," he answered, shrugging. "…especially _pretty_ girls…" Tara glanced over at him, a little taken aback by the compliment. Whatever he read in her expression had his eyes widening like before. "Oh! I didn't mean—I wasn't flirting with you or anything…I was just—

"—making an observation?" Tara finished for him, thinly-veiled laughter in her voice.

"Yeah," Lowell said. "let's go with that."

Tara snickered. Reaching over she patted his leg, laughing harder when he flinched at the contact. "A lot of people making observations about me today, Lowell. Yours is the first one that didn't make me want to cry…or punch someone in the face so thank _you._"

"You have to turn here. The lots on the next corner," he said, clearing his throat.

"Right." He'd spoken out just before she kept going straight past it.

Turning left, she could see the barb-wired gates of Teller-Morrow in the distance.

Not wanting to push her luck, Tara made a sharp U-turn, pulling the car to a stop on the opposite side of the road. "I'll see you later, Lowell."

"You want me to get out here?"

Tara shrugged, choosing to ignore the obvious _why _laced within his rhetorical question. "It's a lot less of a walk then you were gonna do before I picked you up."

"You scared of the club?"

"No," she answered quickly.

It was Lowell's turn to be amused. He turned, smilling over at her. "They're not as bad as people say they are, Tara. My dad's worked with them for years….and besides," he said, scratching his neck nervously, "You're with Jax right? It's not like Gemma can hate you forever."

_Looks like you're the only one in all of Charming that didn't see what happened at the fundraiser._

_Otherwise you'd know just how wrong both of those statements are._

_Well, the second one definitely._

_Thank God no one else was around to witness the reason that negates the first one._

"It's complicated."

"Your life is always complicated, Tara." She cocked an eyebrow at him and he was backtracking in seconds. "I mean…I'm just saying—"

"—it's fine, _junior_." Tara shook her head, smirking. "Go ahead. I'd like to get at least three hours of sleep before I have to pick my dad up from whatever bar floor he's passed out on."

"Goodnight," he mumbled, pulling the door open.

Tara didn't know why she did it.

"Hey, Lowell." He turned to look back at her. She leaned over brushing her lips across his cheek. "Goodnight."

She could see the blush creeping into his face even in the darkness.

That's when she knew why she did it.

She kind of liked not being the one up against the lockers, so to speak. The other role was more fun.

She was the gamekeeper instead of the wide-eyed doe in _this_ situation.

It felt pretty damn good—especially after the week she'd been having.

"Goodnight," he repeated, followed by a very loud "_Oww!_" when he hit his head on the door, not paying closing enough attention as he shot out of the car.

Lowell fell right back into his earlier jog just as soon as the car door slammed shut.

Tara giggled as she pulled off.

* * *

Tara had just made the right turn, headed back towards her neighborhood when the empty seat next to her began vibrating. She looked over, cringing at the cell phone lighting up in the chair. The caller I.D read "Mommy" and Tara couldn't help when her mind briefly drifted to a latent fantasy of hers where it was her mom calling her phone to see why she wasn't home yet.

Instead of Lowell's mother, calling to check on him in between her shift.

It was Lowell's phone.

He'd left his phone in the car.

_Shit._

Without thinking twice about she was quickly headed back towards the Teller-Morrow lot.

By not thinking of course, that meant it didn't occur to her that she wouldn't suddenly develop telepathic abilities until she was parked in front of the auto-shop. Just outside the gates she was tasked with figuring out how the hell she was supposed to get him his phone without leaving the car—or better yet, entering one of the seven circles of Hell.

_Shit. Shit. SHIT._

_I'll just give it to him tomorrow._

What if his mom called again?

_I'll answer it and tell her what happened._

What if she wanted to know why her son was being picked up on the side of the road?

_Who knows if his family situation is as fucked up as mines is. And if it is why risk causing the poor guy more problems?_

One day Tara would learn that sometimes it was okay to put herself before others.

But not tonight.

Cursing her actions before her foot even touched the asphalt, Tara pulled the keys from the ignition, already circling around the car, sprinting in through the gate before the driver's side door was closed good.

Once she was in she could see him standing just a few feet away from a nearly-closed garage, the light seeping from underneath the rusting metal doors just barely enough for her to see the anxious expression on his face. Lowell Jr's expression wasn't the only thing Tara could make out as she walked closer.

The raised voices coming from inside were even more clear.

_"…..running out of a time. Our window's closing. You have to_—_"_

_"Are you out of your _fuckin _mind?! He has a kid! And a wife! I—"_

_"_—_You need to be focused on _your _wife and kids, Lowell!"_

_"You threatening my _family _now? What the hell is wrong with you, Clay? You're supposed to be his broth—"_

_"—I didn't ask you for a lecture! I'm not _asking_ you anything! I'm _telling _you and if you know what I know you'll do what the fuck I'm telling you to do! _Tonight!_"_

"_Lowell_," Tara whispered frantically. Lowell Jr. jumped at the sound of her voice so close to his ear.

Jerking around his eyes widened for the third time that night. "What are you doing here, Tara?"

"What the hell are y_ou _doing?" Tara countered. "Let's go!"

Tara grabbed his arm, pulling him backwards. After a moment Lowell got the message, turning around he matched her speed as they rushed from the lot back to car, quickly shutting the doors behind them, their breathing heavy.

It was easy to believe it when people said that curiosity killed the cat. It was the satisfaction bringing him back part that didn't sound too accurate.

Tara's interest in the argument they'd walked in on was no match for the fear creeping into her bones from the imminent danger she could sense —the consequences for listening in on a conversation that wasn't meant for them.

Clay Morrow—she'd recognize his voice in a line up in seconds.

He was the one that paid her a visit the night after she'd given her statement to the cops about what happened to Sarah. It may have taken her some time, but Tara was finally ready to admit that she doubted Jax's father would ever harm her or any other child in any way.

His club brother on the other hand...

When he'd threatened her she believed him. She believed him the same way she _didn't_ believe that dead cat was ever satisfied enough to come back to life.

"That was my dad," Lowell stammered. "Clay was threatening my dad and m-m-me….and m-m-my mom…he was threatening us."

"Why?" Tara wondered out loud almost absently. Then she turned to face him. "What else did you hear?"

"He kept saying _this was their last shot_ and _it was for the good of the club," _Lowell echoed. "_It had to be done."_

Tara stomach churned. "It's probably nothing serious," Tara lied, hoping to God that the man upstairs would back up her statement and it make it true.

"It didn't sound like nothing, Tara." Lowell shook his head. "Whatever it is…that's why my dad's been so…so…_God… what the hell does he want him to do?_" Tara rubbed his arm, at a total loss for words that would help or comfort. Lowell flinched, a conclusion swirling in his eyes. "He's probably trying to get him mixed up in drugs again….probably wants him to reach out to his old dealer."

"Your dad used to deal drugs?"

Lowell shook his head. "He was an addict…he got clean a long time ago though…." Lowell eyes bore into Tara's searching for an answer she couldn't give him. "Why would he risk my—what if my dad relapses? What if my mom finds out he's—_oh God—_Tara he's gonna"—Lowell's words were choked off as he inhaled loudly. Every breath was a wheeze more frightening than the one before it as Tara leaned towards his side of the car, rubbing his back, trying to get him to calm down.

"Lowell! _Relax!" _Lowell's hand flew to his throat, the other clutching at his chest. "Lowell! It's gonna be okay….Lowell, look at me!" Tara urged. "LOWELL, LOOK AT ME!" His head finally snapped up towards her. But eye contact did nothing to remedy whatever the hell was wrong with him. Her eyes darted back and forth from the terror in his eyes to the tiny o-shape of his mouth as he drew in sips of air too tiny to satisfy his lungs.

She lightly tapped her palms against his cheeks as her eyes continued their dance across his face.

Still no response.

_I tried every-fuckin-thing that makes sense._

Her eyes finally settled on his lips—and she did the first bizarre thing that popped into her head.

She kissed him.

Her eyes were squeezed tight the second she leaned in as she braced herself for the involuntary head-butt that was sure to follow.

But instead of his forehead colliding with hers, Lowell stiffened, his lips just as still against hers as was the rest of his body.

Tara pulled back slowly.

The shock of what she'd done didn't wear off. But neither did the fear that had him in a frenzy to begin with.

"You good?" Tara asked. Lowell nodded slowly, looking down toward her lap. "look…we don't know the whole story…and I Know it sounded bad…I'm not trying to deny that but there's nothing we can do about it…and…it's like you said…the club's not as bad as everyone says, right?"

"That was before—"

"—I believe you," Tara added quickly. "You know why? _John Teller…_I don't know about the rest of them but JT's a good man and so is Piney." Lowell looked up at her and she offered him a small smile. "He's _their f_riend. Jax told me a long time ago that JT's the one that hired him."

Lowell nodded, wiping at his eye. "JT's the only one that would give my dad a shot after he got clean the second time around."

"You and your dad and your mom…you're like family to him," Tara said. She reached her hand up to lightly lift his chin. "Trust me, LJ….if there's one thing I know for sure about John Teller….he _always _looks out for his family no matter what." Lowell nodded. "It's gonna be okay."

"Thanks."

Tara's smiled widened then. "You've been thanking me all night," she said. "How about I give you a real reason to be thankful? There's a party at the Hale's. We should crash it…Get your mind off whatever's going on with your dad."

Lowell was scratching his neck again. "I wasn't invited."

Tara giggled. "That's why it's called party-_crashing_."

"I don't know…"

"Check this out," Tara said. "The party is supposed to be some welcome back shit for Sarah Hale...I _can't stand_ that bitch. I stole the guy she likes to fuck so she can't stand me either. I broke _David _Hale's heart by choosing to be with the guy I stole from his sister. And I don't even have to tell you about the mutual hatred between me and that pillsbury dough boy _Jacob _Hale. Moral of the story? I'm pretty sure I'm not invited either. But it's an unsupervised High school party at a rich kids house so there's gonna be plenty of free booze to help me along with not giving a shit if my presence bothers any of them. You wanna tag along?"

"Sounds like a lot of drama," Lowell answered.

Tara shook her head. "No drama. Just fun And if that doesn't work out I got one hell of a right hook...but you know that already, _don't you?_"

* * *

"Two minutes," Tara promised, holding up two fingers to Lowell as she reached for the handle, pushing her car door open.

She hustled towards her yard, briskly jogging up her walkway to head inside.

"_Where's the fire, Knowles?_"

Tara paused, fixing her mouth into a scowl before turning towards him. "Oh you can see me now? I must have been wearing my invisibility cloak back at the high school."

"Can _you _see who _you're_ talking to?" Opie challenged. "I'm Opie Winston…the other outlaw son, not Jax. You sure you want me to tell you all the ways what happened with Gemma was _your _fault?"

Tara crossed her arms. "It doesn't matter what I said. That doesn't give her the right—,"

"_One…_I'm not excusing _shit_…Gemma snapped and believe me Tara that wasn't fun to watch..._Two..._you _and _Donna love to attack people when you're pissed off so you can go ahead and hop off that horse….it's way too tall for you and my _fun-sized _girlfriend. _Three_….I wasn't just _standing there_ doing nothing. I had _fun-size _wrapped in my arms because her crazy ass was already running towards y'all before I could blink to make sure I wasn't seeing things!"

"Seriously?" Tara smirked, picturing Donna trying to break up any fight that wasn't between two ants. "What did she think—"

Opie shook his head. "—I'm not done..._four..._I can't believe you actually think I would let anybody hurt you…especially after you saw what I did to that asshole Council—"

"—I didn't ask you to do that," tara cut him off, her voice smaller and not nearly as haughty as it was at the start.

"You didn't have to! That's the point!"

"Alright, alright…I'm sorry, Opie," Tara groaned. "I just _knew _you were gonna be on my ass about what happened with Jax and I'm really not in the mood for an _'I told you so'_ so I struck first."

"I _did_ warn—"

"_See!_ I don't want to hear that _shit_!" Tara snapped. "Instead of making me feel bad about trying to avoid him throwing a tantrum over nothing why don't you go tell him off for fuckin some skank in the van I have to pack and unload groceries from?!"

Opie cocked an eyebrow. "Him and Sarah—?"

"_No! _And do you actually think it makes a difference _who_ it was?" Tara screeched. "He did it to hurt me...and if you heard all the shit he said to me you wouldn't be so damn smug…or maybe you would be…they say birds of a feather flock together. Maybe there's a reason for all of Donna's antics..."

Opie blew out a heavy breath. "You want to know what I _think_?"

Tara rolled her eyes. "Do I _ever _want to know what you think?"

"How about what I _don't _think?" he countered.

"Sure," Tara bit back sarcastically. "That'll be a nice change from the usual."

_Jackass._

"I don't think you ever liked David in the first place."

_My eyes are gonna get stuck in the back of my head if I keep rolling them._

Tara narrowed her eyes, hand on her hip. "Why would I go out with him if I didn't like him?"

"Jax sleeps around because he's a slut... _and_ he's a guy…in case you didn't notice sluts like having sex, Tara. So do guys. And guys like sex a lot even when they're not _man-whore's_," Opie said, using air quotes for the adjective she often ascribed to the slut in question. "I'm a guy, Tara. So I would know."

"What the _hell_ does that have to do with David?"

"The only reason you went out with him was to piss Jax off," Opie explained. "Jax screwing everything that walks isn't about you. But, Davey boy? That was all about _him."_

Tara scoffed, green eyes rolling towards the sky yet again. "That's a nice theory you got there, Detective Winston…too bad it doesn't make any damn sense. I never _once _threw David in Jax's face. That stupid bitch Sarah did! If it wasn't for her he'd never even know we were together because I broke up with him today…_dumb ass_."

"_After."_

_HUH?_

Tara's eyebrows bunched together. "What?"

"You hid it from him _after_ you finally stopped pretending you hated him."

_Okay, fine. I blamed him for JT. _

_How many times do I have to apologize for the same shit?_

"And what about before our little _heart to heart_?"

Opie's eyebrows shot towards his scalp. "Hale was hiding you from his parent's wasn't he?"

_Ughh. So fuckin what?_

"You're trying to say I've been using David this whole time?"

_That's bullshit…_

"I'm not _trying _to say it," Opie corrected. "I _am_ saying it. _DUH."_

"You're making me sound like Sarah."

Opie shrugged. "She was _your _best friend wasn't she? _Birds of a feather..._"

Tara punched him in his chest.

Opie chuckled, not even bothering to rub the spot her fist had landed on. "What were you saying about _Gemma_ being out of line?"

"Fuck you."

"Why does everybody want to fuck me today?"

"_Ewww."_

Opie laughed harder. "_Relax. _You're not as bad as Sarah…_or_ Jax. Sarah fucked with my head just to get under his skin. Then she got her brother's ass kicked by starting trouble when _she _got burned. And today Jax fucked some girl whose name he won't even remember tomorrow right in front of you because he's just as spiteful as the girl that won't stop chasing him. What _you_ did was fucked up but compared to those two idiots you're like…heartbreaker-_lite _or some shit."

"Thanks, Yogi Jr. I feel so much better."

"_You used him_," Opie repeated. "The only difference is you didn't have the heart to follow thru… I don't know if it was more because you were scared Jax would walk away from you like you did to him—_for no goddamn reason_"—Opie paused to answer her scowl with a shit-eating grin—"…. or if you finally realized you were gonna really hurt both of them and you didn't want to. Either way you tapped out. You wanted the situation to fix itself. _And it didn't. _ Jax pulled a dick move today….but this entire situation is _your _fault.._._just like with Gemma."

"I didn't know David was in love with me!" Tara argued, shaking her head. "If I'd known I would have never—"

"—hooked up with him because the guy you _really_ want can't stand his ass?"

_UGHHHHH._

"You and Donna are meant for each other," Tara cracked. "You're both annoying as hell. And you think you know every damn thing."

"Donna's not even _reactive_," Opie said, shaking his head. "That girl is _over-_reactive. I have no _idea_ what the hell her problem is….but _you_…you're in the middle somewhere…crazy as hell just like every other chick I know…but every once in a while you're lucid."

"Oh yeah?" Tara challenged. "Then where the hell is my moment of clarity?"

Opie shrugged. "Let's take what happened today out of the equation….name _one_ thing Jax has ever done to hurt you? _Jax. _Not his old man. Not his mother. Not any of the girls he's fucked. Name one time _he_ has ever tried to hurt _you_?"

Tara's mind went blank.

_"Uh…Tara? Did you change your mind about the party?_"

Lowell's voice rang out minutes later.

His question came after minutes of the two of them standing there, staring each other down.

Tara's face alternated between angry and dumbfounded while Opie's face never changed.

He was smug as ever.

And he was happy to rub it in.

"_Clarity," _Opie whispered. He squeezed her shoulder lightly before brushing past her, continuing the path towards his father's truck.

_I hate you._

"Even if I a_m_ in the wrong that doesn't mean I'm gonna put up with his shit!" Tara responded to his retreating back. "I'm not gonna keep apologizing to him either!"

"_You're welcome_!" Opie yelled, getting in the truck, slamming the door shut.

_I really do hate you._

"Tara?"

Tara's eyes snapped over to the awkward young man, wringing his hands together. "No. We're still going," she answered. _Opie's right again. I'm gonna need my good friend Tequila to wash that shit down. _"Just let me run inside and get my jacket."

"Okay...cool."

* * *

Tara didn't know how she was going to survive the party without bleeding from her ears. She questioned whether Lowell could hear her talk over the music blasting.

And they were still outside the house.

Turns out, by some miracle she could. She found out when Lowell turned towards her, scratching absently at that one spot on his neck.

"So I've been thinking…if we both get drunk whose gonna drive us home?"

Tara smiled. "You my friend….are the responsible boy parent's dream their daughters will bring home…_good point. _I tell you what…_you _drink and I'll dance. If I still feel as shitty as I did when I came I'll crack open one of my old man's bottles before I go to bed. Deal?"

"ummm…"

"Have you ever even had a drink before?"

"I had a sip of a beer once."

Tara giggled. "This is gonna be fun...I've always wanted to corrupt someone." Tara grabbed a hold of his hand, pulling him towards the house. "Let's get you your first shot….who knows…the Tequila might make you bold enough to feel me up when we're dancing."

Tara wondered if he could hear her laughter over the increasing volume of the music when Lowell tripped over his feet, falling into the front door.

Music blared from the speakers mounted up on the walls in every corner of the crowded high-ceiling room. She weaved her way through the pack of sweaty, overheated bodies—a blend of her fellow Charming High classmates and a crowd of what were unmistakably a pack of Jacob Jr's college buddies and other local teens.

She craned her neck, searching for the closest bar area when a cluster of familiar faces caught her eye.

Sitting in the corner on one of four scotch-guarded lounge chairs—that were clearly moved aside so the guest could dance—was Jax and three of the many members of his fan club.

Ima, Maize and the dark-haired girl whose name she refused to learn were dancing around him like his own personal go-go girls. All that was missing were the poles or a table to stand up on top of.

Tara turned towards the tapping on her shoulder. As soon as she looked at him, Lowell pointed. She followed his finger to the spot she was looking for.

Forcing herself not look towards the corner—his corner, again she lead the way towards the liquor cabinet closest to her, pulling a bottle of Tequila from the middle shelf. Forgoing the pact she'd made with Lowell out on the steps, she poured them both a shot into two glasses she'd pulled from the counter in between the two cabinets.

She knocked it back without hesitation. Lowell was hesitant, bringing the tiny cup to his lips.

Tara shook her head. "You gotta"—she cut her instructions short as it dawned on her that he couldn't hear her. She poured another shot in her glass, held it up in front of Lowell, her eyebrows raised. She threw her head back just a little slower than before, pouring the scorching liquid down on her throat. Looking over at him she nodded in encouragement.

Lowell shrugged his shoulders the way only he could and did exactly as she'd done.

_I might have to keep him around just for grins and giggles, _Tara thought as she laughed, patting his back when he choked a little.

She poured him another one.

He repeated the act.

Tara leaned over the bar top, reaching for a beer from the ice bucket on the floor behind it.

She didn't miss the way Lowell eyes drifted towards her ass in the snug-fitti jean skirt she'd decided to change into when she went to grab her jacket.

He looked seconds away from accidentally swallowing his tongue—and it excited her.

The only problem was…he wasn't the real source of the excitement. It was the fantasy running through her head. The one where Jax couldn't keep his eyes off of her.

She put off looking over where he was by pouring herself another shot. Lowell look a little less alarmed than he would have without the liquor heating him up—but he still looked alarmed nevertheless.

Tara winked at him before throwing back another shot.

_Relax, champ. It's only three shots._

She popped the cap off the beer, handing it over to him. When he sipped from it, she shook her head, throwing her head back again an imaginary beer hovering over her mouth. Lowell got the picture, quickly guzzling it down—well most of it anyway. Some made its way to his T-shirt.

Satisfied she'd loosened him up enough, she grabbed both his hands.

"Let's dance."

In case he couldn't read her lips, she pulled him towards the floor, swaying to the music that was blasting above them, making the floor thump beneath their feet.

She thought he'd need a little push.

But all she had to do was turn around, brushing back against him once and his hands flew to her waist so fast it actually shocked her.

It was a pleasant surprise.

Tara responded in kind. Pretty soon they were oblivious to the crowd going wild as they somehow managed to make it towards the center of the semicircle forming around them.

No other explanation made sense.

Lowell Harland Junior had obviously watched Dirty dancing a couple hundred times more than Tara—with a heavy emphasis on the dirty part. With every move he made against her Tara grew bolder until she'd completely forgotten the reason she'd wanted to dance with him in the first place.

What was that reason?

Tara hips swerved to Lowell, not the music. She couldn't help thinking she was possessed as she couldn't believe the way her own hands were sliding up and down her body, caressing all the places every straight guy in the room yearned to touch.

Tara didn't know it yet, but that list included Jackson Teller.

Satisfied she'd given enough of a taste of what her backside felt like she shifted against him again, pulling him closer as he spun her around, her back facing towards the gap where the semicircle surrounding them ended.

She didn't give a shit where Sarah was, if she wanted her there.

And she couldn't care less if David was somewhere watching her—unless he was enjoying the show. That would make her very happy.

_What the hell e_lse_ was in those shots I did?_

Swiping the hair out her face, a few strands still sticking to her forehead—Tara snaked an arm around Lowell's neck, lightly nudging his head down towards her.

Following her lead, he leaned into her, his mouth so close to joining with hers. But instead of locking lips he tilted his head to the side. She thought he chickened out until she felt his lips lightly brush her neck.

_It's liquid._

_It's courage._

_It's liquid courage!_

There was no way he couldn't hear her giggled this time—it was right in his ear.

That was why she assumed he'd misread the meaning behind it when he pulled away from her.

She was wrong.

When she peered up at him in question, the first thing she noticed was the sudden absence of glazed over, turned on look in his dark eyes. The second thing he noticed was the terror that took its place.

Lowell went from giving her his own inexperienced _Do-me-baby _look to his eyes ballooning like someone was being stabbed to death behind her.

He looked petrified.

Tara turn to look glance over her shoulder.

And her gaze was met with the glare of Jackson Teller.

Well, almost.

Not quite.

He wasn't glaring at _her._

He was shooting daggers at Lowell.

_So I guess someone _is _getting stabbed._

You _are._

Instead of concern for her friend or shame for doing just what Opie had accused her of doing with David all Jax's reaction did was incite another case of the giggles.

It was Jax's glare _and_ the astonished expression on the faces of all the girls dancing for him, dancing _on _him—all the girls he was ignoring to drink in her every move.

With a high like this, why did anyone do drugs?

Lowell missed the humor in the situation, clamming up the more she moved against him trying to get him back into the groove they were in before.

She finally got him to move again but all the liquid courage was gone. He barely brushed against her.

He was killing her buzz.

No, _Jax _was.

Before the frown she shot towards Lowell could settle in her face good someone grabbed her from behind. Tara jumped, quickly turning around.

He was twice her height and _at least_ two times her size.

And he did _not _have permission to grab her ass.

She couldn't make out what he was saying but it didn't matter.

She shook her head once, backing away when he reached for her waist. She shook her head again when he ignored her decline closing the gap between them again.

Reaching for her the third time was the final straw.

Tara was seeing red when she swung her fist towards his face, following her punch up with a hard knee to the groin. He wasn't keeled over more than a few seconds before he stood up rod-straight—all six feet, three inches of him.

He was pissed, the anger and frustration roiling off him, snuffing out whatever righteous fight she had in her as fear took its place. The onslaught of the music against her eardrums couldn't quite match the sound of her heartbeat speeding up, thrumming a bruise against her rib cage.

His expression was a lot like Gemma's right before she started choking her. Tara's flinch was at the ready for the strike that was sure to come.

But then the Frat boy did something Gemma Teller would never care enough to do. He took in his surroundings. His eyes darted left to right at the crowd of witnesses—people who may or may not take issue with him hitting her back.

Flaring his nostrils, Frat boy bumped shoulders with Lowell as he brushed past him. Tara watched as he yanked a beer from the bucket behind the bar.

Avoiding the crowd staring at the _second_ scene she'd caused that Saturday she looked over at Jax.

He was on his feet, his fists clenched at his sides, shoulders rising and falling fast. But once again he wasn't doing what she'd wanted him to do all along—he wasn't looking at _her. _

He was too busy glaring at the asshole she'd just decked in the face. The one that looked like he wouldn't have hesitated to take a swing at her or worse if it had been just the two of them in an alleyway somewhere.

Jax had got up to protect her.

She knew it without ever seeing him move, without knowing how much he'd actually seen in between lap dances from his fan club.

That was why she stepped towards him, ready to make the first move in spite of all of three of them.

Then Maize pushed him back onto the couch, sitting on his leg. Ima sat on his other leg. Stacey assumed the position in the wide gap between his thighs.

She was okay.

He knew she was okay.

And it was back to being the fundraiser all over again, only this time Jax was intentionally ignoring her when he wrapped his arms around the two girls in his lap, running his hands up and down their thighs. The infamous Teller smile was a thousand megawatts as if he'd never been angry at all—and none of the brightness was for her.

Looking away, she searched the crowd for Lowell when she didn't find him immediately next to her. Her eyes found him leaning against the wall several feet away, next to some girl she recognized from her art class last year. She didn't need an up close look to know he was flirting with her. She looked every bit as tipsy as he was, and when she put her arm on his shoulder Tara cracked a wry smile, shaking her head.

_Someone's not waking up a virgin tomorrow._

She couldn't help but feel bitter as she swerved her way through the crowd towards the bathroom down the familiar hallway.

Fuck a boyfriend.

All she wanted right now was someone to take the edge off all the sexual frustration that had been building up inside her ever since she'd tried to tease Jax and ended up getting herself all hot and bothered…taunting him about a meeting in the janitor's closet.

Ever since Jax eased his hands up the legs of her shorts in the cafeteria during detention.

Ever since she felt him brush against her stomach in Opie's bedroom.

Ever since he'd taunted her to _kiss it better _in the alley behind Lumpy's gym.

Or when he leaned in towards her right there in the backseat of Sarah's car, his breath tickling her ear as his palm pressed against her thigh, breaking the promise she never quite got him to make about keeping his hands where she could see them.

Ever since he pulled her earlobe between his teeth that night on Opie's bed.

Ever since she lost her damn mind, willing him with it to show her all the things she was missing out on, all the things that kept the girls running back to him right there in the middle of the girl's locker room.

Jax had stirred something in her.

It was unfortunate for him that he couldn't stop being righteous and angry long enough to see that he could have anything he wanted from her.

But did Tara share his misfortune? Moments like these, it damn sure felt like it.

But what would happened if he finally got what he wanted? Would he do what David said? Walk away? Could she shake off the pain? Would the moments of pleasure that came before it be enough to stop the world of hurt that followed from crushing her?

Tara pushed the bathroom door open absently, rolling her eyes in annoyance at the couple having sex on top of the sink.

Sarah took the time to toss her a wink, and a knowing smile before the next stroke Kyle rocked into her had her eyes fluttering closed.

Shaking her head, Tara made note of the mismatch of the honey-blonde's footwear as she moved to slam the door shut. On one foot was the kind of heels she'd expect from her former friend. On the other—a cast that obviously did nothing to stop her fun times with the SOA's latest prospect.

She didn't even look angry that the girl who was seconds away from kicking her ass earlier was in her house.

_I hope you break the other foot, bitch, _Tara thought as she stormed off, heading off for the staircase.

Tara Knowles was the friskiest cat around and she needed some goddamn satisfaction. Without it, the curiosity was sure to be the thing that killed her.

* * *

The steady bump of the music blasting from the speakers down below tickled the soles of her feet as she walked through the dark hallway, nostalgia hitting her hard when she stopped in front Sarah's bedroom door.

She'd spent the better part of her childhood in there. Slumber parties and plotting on ways to torture Jacob Jr. She couldn't help but feel a little disappointed when she turned the knob, discovering that it was locked.

_What you hiding now, 'Rah? _Tara wondered as she continued down the hall. She'd found the door she was looking for—the one attached to the second floor hallway bathroom, when something caught her eye. Directly across from the bathroom, his bedroom was cracked open slightly. Without thinking she diverged from her original destination, slipping into David's room for the first time ever.

His room was wall to wall awards, certificates, trophies and accolades. The sheets on his bed looked freshly made, his carpet brand new. Between that and the stellar organization of his computer desk and bookshelf his bedroom looked like something out of the athlete's edition of architectural digest.

_Wow. _

She headed towards his bathroom, making sure to check that both doors were locked, the one on David's end and the one to the adjoining bedroom—Jacob Jr's bedroom.

When she came out he was waiting for her—just outside the bathroom door.

She jumped at the sight of him, and he took her moment of surprise as an opportunity to pull the door she'd come in from shut—the same as the bedroom door she didn't remember closing behind her.

"That wasn't very nice what you did," Frat boy said, sneering down at her.

Tara backed away from him slowly—he was stray pitbull and she was terrified that running fast would only make it worse.

Her fingers tingled, begging to be balled up into fist, her legs quivered, anxious to be slid into position—a fighter's stance.

He laughed at the mix of emotions crossing her face. "Relax, doll…I'm not gonna hurt you," he slurred, moving closer to her, his pace increasing as she continued backing away. "But you hurt me... and you hurt my feelings…don't you think you should make it up to me?"

_I should have never set foot in this house again._

The adrenaline was still there and she was no damsel in distress—she'd fight no matter what.

But she couldn't shake the paralyzing fear seeping into her marrow as two very obvious problems seized every ounce of confidence she had that she would get out of this okay.

One—drunk or sober, this guy wasn't Rick Vidal….he was bigger…soo much stronger.

Two—the music was too loud for anyone to hear if she screamed….when she screamed.

Tara refused to take her eyes off of him for a second.

That decision cost her greatly as she unconsciously backed herself into a corner. She realized too late that she had no way of getting past him.

The towering young man chuckled as her eyes widened when she caught on to what she'd done. Her back hit the wall at the same time the bedroom door he'd closed behind him flew open.

"There's two other bedrooms on this floor," Frat boy grumbled, reaching for Tara, completely oblivious that he now had a witness to his unwelcome advances. "This one's taken."

Tara craned her neck, looking over the sloshed frat boy's shoulders, her eyes meeting a familiar glare at the same time an equally recognizable voice rang out.

"_Get the _fuck_ away from her." _

Tara never thought she'd ever be so excited to hear Jackson's angry voice.

* * *

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	37. EXTRASODE: Voluptuous

**A/N: **An "_EXTRASODE_" aka Flashback.

I mentioned this particular event from Jax's **POV** in **CH2** &amp; he and Tara even reminisced on it in detention (**CH4**). Originally |CH 37| was supposed to start with Jax dreaming about the first time he kissed Tara but it didn't fit but i didn't want to delete it. I decided I'd do a quick and sweet one-shot of it instead…and then the "ramble monsters" took over.

**P.S: **I will probably be doing more of these throughout the story where I feel they'll tie into the present day story.

* * *

_ **  
**_**"You remember when you called Jacob Hale out for mispronouncing the word voluptuous?"**

**\- Jackson Teller**

* * *

_"You're looking very voluptuous today, Nicky!" Jake jumped up and yelled at the leggy blonde jogging past the row of benches where they all sat._

_The Charming Junior High school Varsity Soccer captain neither slowed her pace nor glanced in his direction at all. But his outburst was followed by a chorus of laughter behind him._

_"It's not Velp-chew-us," Tara corrected, rolling her eyes. "It's vull-up-chew-us."_

_Sarah Hale's eyes were rolling next. "Jake can't even _spell _voluptuous, Tee. Why the heck would you expect him to know how to _pronounce_ it?" she teased. _

_"Shut up Sarah," Jake snapped, scowling._

_His younger sister shrugged her shoulders, unfazed by his death-glare. "I'm going to get an ice cream from the truck…you want one, _Jax_?"_

_Jackson nodded. Lifting up off the bench, he pulled a few bills from his back jean pocket to hand them over to her, "thanks... Darlin." _

_Jax couldn't keep the grin off his face when Sarah fluttered her eyelashes at him the way all the women did whenever he heard his father or one of his club brothers call them _Darlin'.

_Sarah pushed his hand and the money in it away. "It's okay, I got it."_

_"You got Tara's, too?" Jax looked from Sarah over to the brunette tucking her long hair behind her ear. "Vanilla or chocolate?"_

_Tara smiled, twirling her finger in the air in front of her._

_"Right." Jax smirked, looking back over at Sarah. "I want mines to be the swirl flavor, too."_

_"She can't carry _three_ ice cream cones, Jackson," Tara scolded. _

_"Oh."_

_"I'll go with her," Opie volunteered, getting up from the space on the bench next to his best friend._

_"What about you?" Tara wondered._

_"I'm getting a Bomb-pop," Opie answered, patting his pants leg. "I'll just put it in my pocket."_

_"What about me?" Jake interjected._

_"Spell voluptuous and I'll get you an icee too," Sarah taunted, already walking away, arm in arm with Opie._

_Jax and Tara laughed together._

_Jake turned his glare from his sister's back to Tara. "What are you laughing at Tara? The only reason everyone's always offering to buy you stuff is because your daddy spends all his money on alcohol!"_

_"Shut up, Jake," Jax said. If the warning wasn't evident in his tone his expression made it clear._

_But Jake was too busy sneering at the dark-haired girl rocking back on one leg, her hand sliding up to meet her hip. "Maybe if your dad uses his money to buy you your own gym you won't be so fat, _Porky_!"_

_Jax chuckled, raising his hand in the air. Tara slapped her palm against his without turning her taunting glare away from Jake._

_Jacob's eyes narrowed to slits. "That's why you're an orphan….your mom died to get away from you."_

_Jacob Hale Jr. was too busy scowling at the wide-eyed girl in front of him to back away in time. He briefly glanced over at Jax, doing a double-take at his outraged expression just before the kick to his groin had his eyes watering._

_"Unnnhhhhh," Jacob moaned. "What the hell, Jackson!"_

_"Go ahead," Jackson dared. "Stand up straight so I can do it again."_

_"Only girls are supposed kick boys in the balls, dude!" Jacob Jr. complained, keeled over towards the ground, one hand holding his stomach, the other on his crotch._

_"Good point," Jax answered. Jacob Jr. made the second mistake of the day by looking up in question. His curiosity was met with Jax's closed fist._

My old man taught me that, Jerk.

_Jacob crashed those last few inches to the ground._

_Satisfied that he'd gotten his point across Jax looked up to smile at Tara. _

_Only she wasn't there._

_He scanned the park._

_She was already several feet away, rushing towards the sidewalk leading back towards her house._

_How the hell did that girl move so damn fast?_

_"Tara wait!" Jax ran after her, grabbing her shoulder as he finally caught up to her._

_"I'm fine, Jax!" she shrieked, shrugging his hand off. "It's not like it's the first time he talked smack about my mom. Jake's just full of cancer jokes.'_

_"If I was there the _first_ time there wouldn't have been a repeat," Jax declared. "Come on…let's go back. I'll make _him _leave."_

_Tara shook her head. "I want to go home."_

_"Fine." Jax tossed an arm over her shoulder, pulling her with him onto the sidewalk. _

_When they reached the corner of the block, Tara pulled away slightly, peering up at him. "We forgot about the ice cream!"_

_Jax shrugged. "She can give it to _Porky," _he responded, winking at her._

_Tara laughed and her eyes were doing that sparkling thing in the sunlight that always stunned him, leaving him tongue-tied._

_"Jake's gonna _love _that," Tara said. She came to a stop, slanting her head at him, her eyes narrowing. "But what about your sweet tooth?"_

_"I can think of something sweeter than ice cream," Jax blurted out, staring at her mouth._

_He quickly looked across the street towards the next block, color flooding his cheeks as he realized he'd accidentally said what he was thinking out loud._

_Tara Knowles was notorious for losing her temper whenever she felt a boy was being fresh with her. Ricky Rosen—who had to sit his first three junior league soccer games out while his knee healed, was proof of that._

_No pulling the _Darlin _trick on her. _

_There was no charming that girl at all._

_And if you tried Tara Knowles was as _un-charming _as a girl could be._

_When Jax was finally brave enough to glance over at her, he fully expected her signature death glare._

_But instead of a scowl her lashes were doing that fluttering thing—only it didn't seem forced, or practice….or intentional at all._

_The look in her eyes was magnetic, pulling him in towards her. _

_His hands moved of their own volition. One slid around to the back of her head, threading into her hair. __The other slowly, timidly curved around her waist, pulling her into him. He slanted his head, brushing his lips against hers._

_He moved to pull back when her hand flew up to face, caressing his cheek. "What was that for?" _

ummm...

_"Sweet tooth?"_

_Tara smiled at his lame joke and he took that as a good sign. _

_Anything that didn't include her eyes narrowing to slits was a good sign._

_"I don't know what to say to that," Tara replied, blushing._

_Jax decided to push his luck. "How about...we don't say anything. Just..." _

_He didn't need to finish. She was already leaning into him again._

_"_God, Jax! _Do you have to be _every_ girl's first kiss?"_

_Tara's head snapped towards Sarah, a look of horror on her face. When her eyes landed on Jax again, the genuine surprise—and a little something else—in his expression left Tara more confused than embarrassed._

_"That was your first kiss?" _

_Jax's question was met with silence as Tara looked down at his feet._

_"Who the hell else would she kiss? Opie?"_

_Tara glanced up, her nose wrinkling the same way Opie's was. She turned to see if Jax was amused like her best friend but he was glaring at Sarah. It looked a lot like yet another Hale was about to incur his wrath._

_And once again Sarah shrugged, giggling. "I can't believe you really believed me when I said her first kiss was with Davey! I was _kidding _Jax. I had no idea you were that easy to fool!"_

_Tara rolled her eyes at her storytelling friend. "Why would I kiss David? I don't like him..and he runs out of the room every time I say hi to him!"_

_"So you like _Jax_?" Sarah challenged._

_"NO!" Tara pointed at the handsome blonde boy standing next to her. "_He_ kissed _me!"

"You _were about to kiss _him, Lady Tee. We saw. Right, Harry?"

"_He kissed me _first!_"_

_"Liar! That's not what I saw!"_

_"I saw it," Opie mumbled, shaking his head with neither girl paid him any attention._

_"Stop minding my business, 'Rah!"_

_"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, Tee. Lots of girls never..."_

_The girls continued their back and forth argument, completely oblivious to two teenage boys standing beside them. Opie shook his head, licking the drops of icee sliding down towards his hand._

_Jackson Teller wasn't paying attention to anyone or anything in front of him._

_He'd thought getting a girl to bat her eyelashes at him was exciting. _

_But now he had something even better than knowing how to be charming to grin about._

_He was Tara Knowles' first kiss._

_And he didn't know why that made him so happy._

_But it did._

_And he was right about the kiss._

_It was the sweetest._

_There wasn't a single ice cream flavor invented that could compare._

* * *

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	38. Chapter 37

_**-**_**Ver**itable **Old** La**dy** C**ro**w

* * *

_"This is my future, right? Anarchy…violence…getting drunk and fuckin around on my Old Lady when I'm not too busy running guns…"_

_"….That doesn't have to be your life.."_

Jax's latest confrontation with his father was running through his mind on a never-ending loop ever since he'd drifted into the vacant dorm room JT slept in whenever he stayed at the Club house.

Jax had somehow found himself sitting on his bed, rummaging through old photographs that had been tucked away in the bottom drawer of the nightstand. Pictures of him and his little brother Thomas. Pictures of Jax and his family when the _four_ of them were alive and happy.

The thick-bearded biker in the photos was a ghost of the man he saw at the dining room table on the nights he bothered showing up for dinner. This man had a smile on his face. It was a cocky grin, his eyes crinkling with mischief and joy—this was a man who didn't look like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

The man in the photos he held between his fingers wasn't conflicted or depressed, he wasn't withdrawn or disconnected. Anyone could look at the pictures scattered across the bed and see that John Teller loved his family.

And he never stopped loving them.

Especially not his son—definitely not the teenage boy that was as much his offspring as the apple that landed somewhere underneath the shade of the fruit tree's branches.

Jackson knew his father loved him.

It was just easier to stay angry at him when he pretended he didn't.

But something about his father's words to him stirred something in him. And it wasn't the anger and hurt feelings he'd feigned when his father suggested that SAMCRO didn't have to be his future. It was…wonder. He found himself wondering what exactly his father had meant by it. He wondered what kind of future he could have that wasn't SAMCRO.

And he wondered about his father on top of everything else.

Was JT tired of the life?

Was it the reason he always looked so miserable?

Did something happened that made him question the family he'd built from the ground up, the brother's he'd spent half his life shedding blood and tears with?

Jax needed answers—No, not need.

He wanted them.

And he would only get all the right ones by asking the man himself.

That was exactly what he intended to do.

Just as soon as he found him.

Again.

_"...Jackson...it's time for you to grow the hell up."_

It was.

It really was.

* * *

"Hey, Lowell," Jax said as he approached the man leaning underneath the front end of the car in the well-lit garage.

Lowell Sr. sat up underneath the car, patting greasy hands against worn, stained jeans as he squinted up at him. "What's up, Junior?"

Jax shook his head, chuckling. "_Your _son is Junior…not me, man."

The greying man shook his head, a wistful smile on his face. "You don't need his first name, kid. All I _see _is JT when I look at you. You ask anyone else around here they'll tell you the same thing. You two are—"

"—cut from the same cloth," Jax cut in. "Yeah, yeah….well since we're already talking about my _twin…._have you seen him around? JT's not answering his phone."

"I think he said he lost it when he was out with the guys doing…._hey, wait. _You were at the fundraiser right?" Jax nodded. "…I think he said something about it slipping from his pockets…can't say I'm surprised. Sounds like he had a very eventful day…_playing referee _left and right."

"That asshole Kyle is such a gossip," Jax said, rolling his eyes when the sheepish grin on Lowell's face confirmed his assumption. "If Clay's smart he won't patch him in…I don't see him working out."

"Check you out," Lowell said. "You not even in your prospect Kutte and you're already trying to make policy."

"_Policy?_" Jax chuckled. "They're outlaws not politicians…although I can see why it's easy to get the two mixed up."

"Especially the suits in this town."

"Yeah," Jax agreed. He looked over, across the lot, towards the front doors to club reaper. "I'll let you get back to your work…maybe if Kyle's here he can make himself useful and give me a ride home…this not having my own ride shit is killing me, man…_six more weeks_."

Lowell laughed. "When you do get your bike you better take good care of it. I taught you how so there's no excuse."

"Why would _I _have to do it?" Jax challenged playfully. "That's what you're here for…they don't keep you around for nothing."

"Right." Lowell looked down at the ground between his legs. All of a sudden, it was like he was having a moment and Jax wasn't sure what to say or ask—so he said nothing at all.

Instead he took two steps backwards. "I'll see you later, Lowell," he said, holding up a hand to him. "If my old man pops up tell him I'm looking for him."

Jax turned around, and was headed back across the lot when Lowell's voice rang out behind him.

"Jackson, wait."

When he turned around the look of discomfort in Lowell's expression had his eyebrows threading together in confusion. "What's up?"

"I just want to say..._I'm proud of you_...and I'm happy you're ready to patch things up with your old man," Lowell admitted. "You've been needing to get right with him for a long time, son...and I know first hand that it's always rough when you think your own son resents you…..I'm not saying he's perfect…no parent is…but he's always tried to be a good father…and JT was always a good man."

Jax smiled despite the awkwardness he felt. "_Was?_" he joked. "You're trying to say he's not anymore?"

Lowell's eyes widened and Jax never noticed how much Lowell Jr. resembled his old man until then. "Of course not! What I meant was—listen…Jackson—"

"—_you about done here?"_

Both Jax and Lowell snapped their heads in the direction of the gravelly voice. There they found Clay Morrow—all six feet, five inches of him.

_As big as your Hellboy looking ass is how the FUCK you walk up on me and I ain't hear you?_

"Just about," Lowell answered quickly. "Jax was looking for JT and I…"

Lowell's sentence died off as Clay's piercing stare shifted from his face to that of the teenage boy standing next to him.

Unlike Lowell, Jax didn't flinch under his gaze. "Did you check your house? I heard you haven't been spending much time there lately."

"Everything you hear ain't gospel," Jax bit back. "You got the prospect doing anything? I need a ride..to my _house_."

"I'm almost done here," Lowell said, rising up from underneath the hood of the car. "I can give you a lift and finish up tomorrow. It's kind of late any—"

"—I promised Mrs. Timmons her car would be ready first thing in the morning," Clay interjected. "You need to stay put." Clay turned back to face Jax. "Kyle's in the clubhouse…y'all are the only ones still around. Go tell him he can finish cleaning tomorrow…head out, now. Your mom is looking for _you_."

_Since when is this place a ghost town after hours?_

"Whatever," Jax said, narrowing his eyes at the strange behavior of the grown men in front of him. "Good night, Lowell."

"Get home safe, Jackson."

Jax was only a few feet away from the Club house when he gave into his curiosity and turned back towards the garage. He looked back just in time to see Clay, pulling the gate down. He had only a second to glimpse the peculiar mixture of angst and outrage on Lowell Seniors face before both men disappeared from sight—everything obscured by the iron gate but their feet.

Fighting the urge to walk back over and satisfy the growing curiosity in him he walked into the clubhouse instead, yelling out for kyle.

"Clay said you're good on _bitch-boy duty _until tomorrow!"

"Sweet!" he heard Kyle say from the back room. He quickly emerged, swinging a dish towel in his hand. "You need a ride home _don't_ you?"

If his hands weren't so sore he would have punched the smug look right off of the nineteen year old prospect's face. _six more weeks. _ "Just hurry your ass up."

"You're just as bitchy as your little girlfriend," Kyle mumbled under his breath…just loud enough for Jax to hear.

"Oh really?"

"Seriously, Jax," Kyle said, looking up at him. "You're too young to be getting all stressed over a chick. I don't know what it is with you and Opie...trying to be all knight in shining armor all the fuckin time…it's just _pussy_ man and there's plenty of it being thrown at you left and right. Enjoy it…stop stressing over girls who get on your nerves more often than they get on their knees. You're gonna go prematurely gray."

Raw, sore knuckles was the _only _reason Kyle was spared a bloody nose for the last comment he made.

It was that and the voice in the young blonde's head telling him that perhaps this asshole was onto something.

Jax cocked an eyebrow. "You're taking the whole Prince Charming thing too seriously...When have I ever signed up to be anybody's knight in shining armor?" Jax challenged, choosing to ignore the elephant in the room—the overgrown safari animal that said Kyle and all of SAMCRO saw him run after the same girl that called his mother a biker whore for everyone to hear.

"Exactly, bro," Kyle said. "Why start now? Listen…there's a party at the Hale's—"

"—I knew about it before you did, stupid. I was _personally _invited," Jax bragged. _I was. _

Kyle pulled keys from inside his kutte as he walked around the bar. "How about you skip family dinner for a night and come party with me? You need to start acting like a teenager instead of someone's grouchy ass grandfather."

Jackson slapped him in the back of his head just as soon as he was close enough.

"And you might want to try some fuckin anger management, too," Kyle added, rubbing his head as they left through the clubhouse doors.

* * *

"Hanging out with me isn't gonna make all the girls falling in my lap want you, too," Jax commented, as Kyle zoomed out of the lot. "That overflow bullshit only works in fiction."

"_That's what you think_," Kyle mumbled, once again loud enough for a smirking Jax to hear.

"You're such a"—Jax choked off his latest insult as a familiar car whizzing past them caught his eye, his neck craning as he turned around to see nothing but black top and the corner they'd just turned behind them.

"What?" Kyle looked over at the confused expression on the handsome blonde's face.

"I coulda sworn I just saw the Cutlass drive past," he answered.

"_the _Cutlass?" Kyle chuckled, shaking his head. "You do know Tara's father's not the only one that owns a cutlass right?"

"No shit," Jax bit back, shaking off his assumption.

For once in his life Kyle Hobart had a point that made sense.

And it was driven home by one very important fact.

There wasn't a chance in Hell Tara or her father would be heading towards Teller-Morrow—especially Tara.

_I need a drink._

_This girl is fuckin with my head. _

_I'm seeing shit that isn't there._

No more thinking, no more stressing, no more raging, no more analyzing.

Jax was looking forward to not having to use his head for anything else tonight—not the head on his shoulders anyway.

* * *

Walking across the lawn, Jax felt a little off balance—he couldn't remember the last time he partied _with _or _without_ his best friend. Donna Lewis was seriously fuckin up his bro-time.

He knew things were shitty when he was arriving at a party with Kyle Hobart as his wingman—not that he actually needed one to begin with.

Something was telling him he shouldn't be there, that he should be home…or at Ope's….or at Ta—anywhere but at a loud party with all his fellow Charming teens, most of whom he didn't even like.

That feeling was gone just as soon as he stepped inside.

The front door wasn't closed all the way before Ima was hooking her arm in his, Maize O'Keefe assuming the same position on the opposite side of him.

Before his ass could settle into the couch they brought him over to, Stacy Wilson joined them—holding a red cup filled to the brim in front of him—bringing their party to four.

Jax nodded up at her as he sipped from the cup, a slight wince had his eyes squinting the first few seconds the lethal mixture of booze in the cup slid down his throat. A few healthy gulps and he was happy to lean back, relax and watch the burlesque club-worthy show they were putting on for him.

It was a battle of the sexiest and none of his girls were about to surrender. Slender, exposed hips swerved, barely concealed breast bounced in his face, flawlessly blown out hair flying—tight asses wiggling every time they made an about face.

Stacy wasn't cheer captain for nothing. She had more perk than the other two put together. Despite their efforts she was the heavy-weight titlist, her slim waist swirling with ease like she was hula-hooping. She flipped her long, auburn hair to one shoulder as she spun around, dropping down into a sexy squat—the waistband of her jeans sliding down to expose the thin, red strings of her thong.

That was when he saw her.

Tara walked through the crowd, her hair a cascade of dark curls, stopping at the bare shoulders, left exposed by the cut of the red halter top she was wearing. Her legs looked never-ending in the strappy black sandals on her feet—and they very well could have been.

There was no way for Jax to know for sure without tearing his eyes away from the point where the snug-fitted skirt hugging her hips ended, and the mind that was supposed to be turned off for the night began filling in all the hidden parts of her. Memories flooded his brain in perfect sync with the blood rushing to his groin as he recalled how soft her thighs were, how good they felt against his hands, how good they felt wrapped tight around his waist.

She made her way to the nearby bar, arm in arm with the last person he expected to see her with. But Jax wasn't jealous of Lowell Jr. He was jealous of the bottle in Tara's hand as he reminisced on good it felt to be in her grip. He was jealous of the shot glass she tipped back, as his mind flashed back to those baby-soft lips on his, trailing hot, wet kisses along his throat. He was jealous of the liquid sliding down her throat as he envisioned all the ways he could heat her up like no amount of Tequila ever could. He wasn't jealous of lanky, awkward, squirrely Lowell Harland Jr. at all.

Not until she pulled him onto the dance floor. Not until the liquor in his system had a normally very timid L.J spinning Tara every which way but left.

It was always_ right._

No matter what direction they moved he always managed to brush up against her in all the right places. People on the crowded dance floor were even starting to move out of their way as they took over the floor—as _she _took it over.

Tara Knowles was a snake charmer and she had every snake in the room at attention, including the cobra throbbing between his legs. But when Lowell leaned into her, pressing a kiss against the glistening skin of her neck, Jax was venomous himself, blue eyes narrowing, nostrils flaring—the clearest threat of bodily harm in his expression when Lowell had the misfortune of locking his eyes with him as soon as he looked up.

Whether Jax had suddenly become telepathic or not, his feelings were loud and clear if Lowell's reaction was anything to go by. The clock struck twelve and_ Prince_ Lowell was a pauper again. His movements were as stiff as the pumpkin his ride home turned back into and his _beloved _was left confused, without even a glass slipper to ponder.

Lowell wasn't doing anything wrong. And Jax knew it was childish as hell.

But he didn't give a shit. If Tara felt anything like he was feeling now back at the fundraiser Wendy was definitely spot on with her joke about people being sliced and diced like cantaloupe.

He had to give Lowell credit though.

Jax had no clue how he was able to resist Tara pushing against him, trying to coax him into letting loose like he'd been before. He didn't have long to entertain the notion before his view of Tara and her pumpkin was obscured. Only this time, he had some unfamiliar jock to thank instead of Stacey's perfect size seven ass.

He watched him approach her, reaching out he palmed Tara's ass before his hands traveled to her waist pulling her back against him. It was a battle of emotions. Anger and lust.

Anger easily won the battle when Tara had to push the guys hands a way a second time.

The third time, Jax was on his feet, his fist clenching—all soreness forgotten as he moved, anxious to be the jaw-shattering bridge between the two of them. Before their was even a full-blown spring in his first step forward, jock-boy was already holding that jaw he had his eyes set on, his other hand curved over the the crotch of his jeans as he glared at the brown-haired girl that was several feet shorter than him even in her heels.

_Jesus Christ._

He'd thought he was turned on before. Anger and Lust were competing again as he watched the way she handled herself, the defiance in her eyes even as she sized him up reaching the same conclusion anyone with half a brain would draw looking between the two of them—this guy could seriously hurt her.

And the stubborn, brunette butterfly held her ground, refusing to float away—staying put as if the sting she'd bring into the mix rivaled a whole swarm of bees.

Jock-hole did the smart thing. He stalked off, keeping his hands at his sides. And Jax, with a shit-load of difficulty managed the same. To be fair, his mind was a little preoccupied. He couldn't decided which bones he wanted to break first.

She was staring at him.

Tara had finally acknowledged his presence. The swooping sensation he felt underneath the tautness of skin over his stomach was all too familiar.

It was the same feeling he'd felt in his chest in the detention when she'd given him the first genuine smile in ages.

He liked the way she was looking at him. No, he fuckin loved it. He loved it enough to override all the anger he'd felt earlier when he told her he was walking away.

And for Jax, that was just too much. Way too much power over him.

Fuck what Opie said.

David could be her puppet if he wanted to.

Jackson Teller was cutting the strings.

Maize pushed against his shoulders, and he eased back into his former position. It was effortless the way he assumed his role as CHS's playboy...complete with a bounty of beautiful girls falling all over his lap.

He was so busy proving to himself how easy it was to forget all about Tara that he almost missed her heading up towards the floor above his head. Her legs were one of a kind. He spotted them without doubt as they disappeared into the darkness above the staircase.

It was almost painful the way his body froze up. He went as rigid as Lowell, as he compelled himself to stay where he was. He wasn't following her. Hadn't he already promised her that?

_I'm done chasing after your stubborn ass, too._

He'd meant it.

He meant it the same way he did when he'd vowed not to give any more satisfaction, anymore control over him.

The chain link was officially severed. No more being strung along. Instead of thinking about her he would put all his focus in seeing how many winks and _Darlin's _it took to get the girls still grinding against him to fuck him—all three of them.

One of the girls in question, Maize O'Keefe was already gripping his chin in her freshly manicured hand, angling his face up for a kiss.

And if he hadn't seen that Jock-hole climbing the stairs over her shoulder he would have been happy to oblige. If the sick feeling hadn't churned his stomach, if his throat hadn't suddenly taken on a cotton-like constriction he wouldn't have jumped up, completely oblivious to girls he'd knocked from his lap to the floor.

He wouldn't have shown Charming High School's football team how it was supposed to be done as he shoved his way into the crowd, storming through the herd of drunken teens until he reached his destination. He knew it without knowing. He felt it deep down in the very core of his being.

That's why he took the stairs three at a time, silently praying the whole way up that he made it there before that very real line of scrimmage was crossed.

* * *

Standing in the dark hallway, heart racing, Jax looked from one door to the next until the sound of another door slamming inside one of the rooms sounded. It was a quick sprint down the hall, his grip white-knuckling as he nearly tore the knob out of the door, wrenching it open.

He could barely see her. Jax completely missed it when she craned her neck to look over at him. All he needed to see was her backed into a corner to make his focus singular.

"Get the _fuck _away from her," he yelled.

He was already rushing forward, fist drawn back as the drunk jock turned around to face him. His right hook was swiftly joined by his left. Jax's fists came undone, his palms outstretched just long enough to grip either side of the young man's face, his forehead crashing forward, connecting with the quickly shattering cartilage of his nose. Blood sprayed his shirt as he dipped low, landing a wind-knocking punch the gut. As he keeled over, Jax's leg flew out, his foot connecting hard against his chest, helping him the rest of the way down.

He fell at Jax's feet, keeled over, hands gripping his stomach. But there would be no tapping out.

Jax wasn't stopping. Every blow he landed with his foot was followed by a resounding crunch. He couldn't even see the shell-shocked girl creeping out of the corner, her green eyes wide as she looked on.

He couldn't hear her shouting, "JACKSON, STOP! YOU'RE GONNA KILL HIM!" when he launched himself, knees first on top of the battered guys chest, ignoring the pain shooting through his wrists, the searing burn against his knuckles when he kept swinging—blow after blow.

"JAX!" Tara screamed, her voice choked up like she was on the verge of tears. He wanted to look up at her, where ever she was and tell her he was there, and everything was going to be okay but he couldn't stop his fists from flying long enough to seek her out.

Strong arms circled his waist, lifting him up off the floor—off the bruised and battered barrier between him and floor with ease. His foot lashed out one final time before he was spun around, firmly planted on his feet on the other side of the new barrier between him and the guy he'd just beat the shit out of. There weren't many barriers that could hold Jax and his temper at bay.

Opie Winston was one of the few that qualified.

"_Jesus Christ!"_ Opie hissed, staring at the roadkill on the bedroom floor next to him. "When I said kiss and make up I didn't mean beat the shit out of any guy that flirts with her! _What the hell is wrong with you?_"

"It's okay, Ope, he was just—"

"—He's lucky you got here when you did," Jax seethed, cutting an all but forgotten about Tara off. He was too busy glaring a hole into the lump of barely conscious male on the floor to see the incredulous look on his best friends face.

Opie shook his head at him. "You're _drunk,_" he said. "Let's just go before—"

"—_half the assholes in this houses are drunk_," Jax snapped. "How many of them do _you _see backing girls into corners?"

Opie whipped around, looking directly at Tara for the first time. "He did _what_?"

Tara shook her head. She did it way too quickly. "He's just some drunk asshole, Ope. I'm fine. Jax got—_OPIE!_"

Jax actually cracked a smile when the teenage boy that just finished restraining him, raised his foot high as it could go before crunching the bottom of his boot with poor jock-hole's groin.

Jax moved in to join him in the onslaught as Tara looked on in horror when another familiar voice joined the mix.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN HERE?!" All three teenagers looked towards the door.

Standing with his arms curved around the waist of two girls—girls Jax had _no idea _how he got—was Jacob Hale Jr.

"Kyle?!" Jacob rushed over to where his friend was laid out in the middle of his younger brother's bedroom floor. "Get up, man! _Aw shit. _Come on, bro. Get up, man."

_Great. Another asshole named Kyle. Makes perfect sense._

Kyle's answer was a labored groan. If Jacob wanted to make sure he was still among the living that was as good a confirmation as any. He steeled his eyes on the two young men standing above him. "What the fuck is your damage? You two could have killed him!"

"He doesn't look half as bad as my brother did when his wife caught him cheating," Jacob's redheaded companion chimed in.

Her equally pretty, raven-haired counterpart, crossed her arms, her eyes darting appreciatively between an oblivious Opie and Jax. "Damn...you guys really fucked him up, eh?"

Ignoring them both Jax chose to bark back a response at an extremely pissed Jacob Hale. "Your friend doesn't understand what the word _no _means."

"What the hell are you—"_  
_

"—you need me to educate you, too?" Jax asked, switching gears. "We can go that way if you want but if i were you I'd get this asshole out of here before I really _do_ kill him."

Jacob's eyes flew over to Opie as if searching for some sign that _both _SAMCRO heirs weren't out of their minds._  
_

Opie offered Hale no comfort when he grunted a icy, "_What he said," _nodding towards his exponentially furious best friend.

"OK this outlaw shit is only sexy when you're not caught in the crossfire," redhead said, slowly backing out of the room.

"Amen," goth-hair agreed, following suit.

"Great," Jacob griped, looking down at his friend's swollen face. "You cost me _two _bitches...and on one of the last nights I have as a free man."

_Shoulda wore a condom, idiot._

Looking up, his eyes darting between Opie and Jax, his next words were in the form of a half-hearted question. "Can one of you at least help me get him downstairs?"

"You don't want _my_ hands in motion again," Jax bit back. He looked over at his friend only to see him staring at Tara instead of nodding his head at him in agreement.

A silent message passed between the two of them. Yet another secret fuckin nod of understanding and Opie walked over to the other side of Kyle, assisting Jacob in hoisting him off the floor.

"If i accidentally drop him on our way down the stairs that's exactly what you better tell the cops...it was an _accident,_" Opie warned as they walked past a shocked Jax. When they reached the hallway, Opie pulled the bedroom door shut behind him.

Jax's eyes were immediately fixed on the brunette leaning against the wall by the door on the other side of the room.

"_If I were you I'd get this asshole out of here before I kill him._"

How many times had he threatened to kill someone?

Many times—that pain in the ass Kyle _Hobart_ alone.

This felt like the first time he meant it.

He'd glared at the boy being helped out of the room with murder in his heart.

He felt ruthless, empowered—and terrified out of his mind.

Could he do it?

Was he really capable of killing a person in a blind rage?

Could he actually go through with something so awful in front of the girl that stood in the corner, holding a hand over her mouth?

There was brief hitch in his step as he walked towards her —a moment where he'd paused, giving himself a second to settle the pang he'd felt in his chest when she instinctively moved back two paces.

"You okay?" he asked, slowing his pace as he approached as if not to spook her.

Tara nodded. "That's not the first time someone had a little too much to drink and didn't want to _take _no_ for an answer._"

Jax's eyebrows bunched together. "What are you talking about?"

Tara shook her head. "Nothing." Before he could protest her latest deflection, she reached for his hand, holding it in her smaller one. Her thumb ghosted across his raw knuckles. The sting from the air was at war with the other sensations coursing through his body from the feather light touch of his hand in hers. "Your hand is bleeding."

Reluctantly, his eyes left hers to look down at his hand. Lazily, he shrugged his shoulders."They were already fucked up…I'll live."

"What happened...before?" she asked.

If she had an inkling of what happened she likely would have never asked. But as it were, her question brought him right back to what he'd found out.

The girl he….

His….

She was with David.

She'd been hooking up with the guy he hated behind his back. She'd probably done things with the source behind his _already_ fucked up hand that had his stomach in knots and his nostrils flaring at just the mere thought of it.

Tara didn't notice his shift from deep concern to anger again.

She was pulling him along along with her. Pushing the bathroom door open, she gingerly pulled him inside. She bent over, giving him front row viewership of her perfect ass as she opened the bottom cabinet door. Reaching, she pulled a first aid kit from underneath the sink.

"Of course," jax fumed. "You would know where everything is…since you spend so much time here."

Tara narrowed her eyes at him, but the emerald green lacked any of the heat that came with her temper. It was because she wasn't angry. The jab did nothing to alter her mood. She opened the kit, wordlessly tending to the raw, reddened skin of the back of his hand, dabbing at it with the alcohol towelette between her fingers. The sting from the disinfectant paled in comparison to the burning sensation he felt in his chest as he thought about where she was, what she was probably thinking about when she found herself in David's bedroom, like she'd been so many times before.

He found himself pulling his hand from her grasp before she could finish her task. "Chibs can wrap it up for me, later."

Tara rolled her eyes, snatching his hand back. "Stop being such a brat, Jax. I'm almost finished."

He let her. She worked in total silence, spreading neosporin across his knuckles, right before finally pressing the adhesive tape over the tiny strip of gauze she'd cut from the roll inside the kit.

"You done?" he asked, when she dropped his hand. Tara nodded. "Thanks," he added, before turning to leave.

"Jax, wait." Jax shrugged her hand away from his shoulder before turning his head towards her.

"That's it? You can come to my rescue but you can't talk to me?"

"If you're not gonna teach Lowell about the buddy system I suggest you find another _girlfriend_ to come to parties with," Jax scolded.

Tara's answering smile was sardonic as ever, fanning the flames that fueled his temper. "You mean someone you can't scare off?"

"You should go home," Jax bit back.

"_Just give it to me already_," Tara begged. Her next words made her meaning clear but it was too late. He was already straining against the zipper of his jeans when she added, "Just get all the venom off your chest right now so we can move on from this. Go ahead. I'll take my licks. Just get it all of your system. You can't keep torturing me, Jax. I'm not letting you."

_Are you fuckin with me?_

She had to be. No way her choice of words weren't intentional. Nor was the huskiness in her voice when she asked him to give it to her.

Tara smirked, shaking her head. Pushing the bathroom door closed, she posed a question to the angry teenager glowering at her. "But _that's_ the problem isn't it, Jax?" Tara caught him off guard. Grabbing both his hands in hers, she pulled him close enough to feel her breath blowing against his lips when she spoke. "You don't wanna _talk_..." The way she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth made him jealous. He wanted the pleasure of doing that himself again. Resolve broken, he leaned into her to satiate that need but she pulled his hands up between their faces. Jax couldn't help but look down as she slowly guided his hands down her body—from her shoulders down to the swell of her breasts. She gave him a moment too little to knead the tender flesh in his palms, to savor the soft, silky feel of her skin at the tops where her cleavage peeked out of the low cut of her shirt. Then she moved his hands further down to her waist, wasting no time sliding them down over her hips. His hands were inches away from the curve of her ass when she stopped, pushing his hands away letting his hands go. Jax jerked his head up. The knowing look in her eyes was all it took to ignite his temper all over again.

"You need to be thinking with the head on your shoulders instead of the one in your pants," Tara taunted, "because this is the last chance I'm giving you. I was wrong for keeping David a secret...and I'm sorry. Say whatever you have to say now and let's just be done with it. And I swear to God, Jax, when it's all said and done...if you ever throw David in my face ag—"

"—you don't get to decide when _I'm_ over it," Jax snapped. "And I'll tell you like I told your buddy _Sarah_...you can't control me so stop fuckin trying! You think you can manipulate me? Tease me until you get your way? You act like you're the only option—"

"—here we go. _Now _we're getting somewhere," Tara encouraged. "What else you got?"

"—you think everything is a fuckin game! you _and _Sarah. You're two peas in a fuckin pod and I'm done with _both_ of you!"

"That must be why you couldn't keep your eyes off me all night," Tara accused.

_Like I was the only fuckin one._

"You're just as full of yourself as she is, too!"

"I'd argue that _you're_ the most arrogant person around here, _Prince Charming."_

"And you're the _biggest fuckin liar_! Talking all that bullshit about how you want _distance_..."

"We're past—"

Jax crushed his lips against hers and that was the end her sentence. It was the end of all contributions she had to their argument as he thwarted every future attempt she made to respond to the flurry of angry words flying out of his mouth.

"You want _distance?" _he growled. "You wanna _talk_?" His lips grazed hers again as he gripped her waist. Picking her up, her sat her up on the sink, sending the first aid kit and all of its contents cascading to the tiled floor beneath his feet. "I don't see you _leaving,_ Tara," he challenged. He rendered her mute, her mind too scrambled to respond when he pushed his hands up underneath her shirt, snatching the clasps of her bra apart, his teeth a gentle scrape against her neck as she reluctantly pulled his eager mouth from her neck to completely free her of her shirt and bra.

His lips were closed around her nipple, eliciting a guttural moan from her before either article of clothing even touched the floor. "I don't hear you _talking _either," he taunted, his breath tickling her breast before he moved to suck the matching peak in his other hand into his mouth. Tara was limp, her back sliding just a little bit further down the mirror behind her head each time he switched.

Jax pulled back, chuckling at her whimper, the whine of protest that escape past her lips before she could suppress it. "You don't wanna _talk_...not when you wrap your legs around my waist like this," he hissed, pushing back against the crossing of her calves behind his back. There was no mistaking the tortured, desperate look in her eyes as he pulled back. Amusement stirred within him, a feeling of triumph that rumbled deep in his chest. He wasn't finished with her.

But she didn't know that.

And the wanton look in her eyes, answered the lingering question in his mind as to whether it was possible he could get any fuckin harder.

Turns out he could.

"You see what you're doing to me?" he asked, looking down at the painfully rigid bulge in his jeans. Tara's chin tilted forward, her eyes following the trail his blue ones led just as he reached for her hand, placing it on the spot that held her heated emerald gaze. "You _feel _what you're doing to me?" Tara didn't need prompting as she massaged the throbbing erection between his legs in her hand. He shoved her hand away just as she'd done to him before. Only instead of a sarcastic smile, his eyes were darkening pools of indigo, and the emotion swirling within them was that of a predator circling it's prey. In his eyes was hunger as he slipped his hand underneath the fold of her skirt. "_My turn_," Jax whispered. He cocked his head to the side, leaning in as close as he could get, pressing a kiss against the spot next her ear as his hand hovered over her center, barely pressing against the heat he felt there. "_I can see what I'm doing to _you_," _he teased. There was laughter in his voice as he drank in the sight of her naked chest rising and falling fast, as he absorbed every shallow breath she took in, every labored breath she pushed back out. He slipped his hand inside her panties, his own breath hitching as he spread her warm folds with his fingers. "I can feel it now, too..._you're so fuckin wet, Tara..._Why is that? I thought you wanted to _talk_?" He strummed his fingers against her and all it did was kill _him _softly when she moaned in his ear. "I'm all ears, babe..._talk _to me...I'm listening...tell me what you want..." He thought his fingers were already soaked until he lowered two of them to tease her entrance. Gasping for air, she couldn't begin to tell him what she wanted._  
_

But Tara was more than happy to show him as she lifted up off the sink, easing her way back down, sucking his fingers inside her the further she slid. She was so fuckin tight, clenched around him that he had to suck her earlobe into his mouth to muffle his own groan.

Up and down. Up and straight back down again. An erotic thrill on the seesaw that was his hand as she moved with the rhythm of his fingers, matching every stroke her gave her. Biting her bottom lip did nothing to stop the moans escaping her mouth, creeping up from low in her throat. Jax picked up speed, committing the sheer pleasure on her face to memory as her eyes rolled back, as he slipped his two fingers in and out of her, his thumb stroking just the right spot. He worked her into a frenzy, rocking back and forth against the mind blowing ministrations of very skilled fingers. His free hand flew up, roughly grabbing her face as she pulled him for a kiss, sucking that tempting bottom lip into his mouth, biting down on it just enough not to draw blood.

She was right at the edge. Softly as he could manage, Jax pushed another finger inside, never once stopping the strumming of his thumb against her most sensitive spot.

_"...shit...oh sh-oh God, Jax..."_

It was the final push, sending her over the cliff where the waves of her orgasm thrashed violently, the surface of the counter surrounding the sink, bumping against the wall as she white-knuckled it, accidentally nudging the water on with her wrist. His fingers were drenched in her own steady stream as she rested her bare back against the cool glass of the mirror behind her.

"I should hook up with David behind your back more often," Tara breathed, her lids closed. Her green eyes flew open as her usual habit of putting her foot in her mouth put a spring in Jax's step as he moved to open the bathroom to leave.

"I don't think so, Teller," Tara scolded, knocking his hand away from the door. "That's the second time you tried to walk away before I could say thank you." She leapt down off the sink, gently pushing his back against the door as she pulled his shirt over his head. Running a hand across his chest, her other hand reached up to caress his cheek as her eyes locked with his, the green imploring the blue, begging him to not miss even a ounce of the sincerity in her voice when she whispered, "_Thank you for saving me_," before pressing the softest of kisses on his already kiss-swollen lips.

Tara dipped her head, flicking her tongue across each of his nipples as her lips were a trail of kisses from his chest back up to her favorite spot on his neck. As her hands moved freely, without him holding her back, her fingers slide his buckle open, the zipper of his jeans sliding down immediately after she'd worked the two top buttons open. She tugged the denim down just enough. Her lips found his again, and she swallowed his moan as she slid her hand inside his boxers, holding him firmly in the softness of her grasp. She rocked back and forth on her heels, delighting in the mutual pleasure she drew from him as her erect nipples brushed up and down against his with every rhythmic stroke of their tongues. Every flick of her wrist was measured, almost lazy as she tugged on the velvety, throbbing heat trapped between her steadily moistening palm.

Jax couldn't think of anything more pleasurable than the stroke of her hands until she began sucking on his tongue with such finesse, more blood rushed to his groin as the sensations brought on by her warm, wet mouth collided with the moan-inducing grip she had on his cock. He couldn't stop the imagery his brain, the fantasy of her lips taking the place of her thumb, rubbing against his tip. She reached another hand inside the confines of his boxers, massaging his balls as she gently bit down on his tongue.

His mind was too far gone to be embarrassed as he quickly erupted in her hand, splashing on her stomach.

_"Fuckk...Tara."_

"You're gonna have to behave a lot better if you ever want _that _to happen," she teased, mumbling her response to his outburst against his lips. _  
_

Jax smiled, brushing his thumb against the corner of her smirking mouth. "I'll do whatever you want, baby," he replied, shaking his head at his own words. _So much for not being manipulated. _"You never _did _tell me what you want."

"I want _you," _Tara answered. "Stop being an asshole before I change my mind."

"We both know how much you _love_ to do that," he snapped back, pinching her ass.

"I'm serious, Jax...are we past it? Can you just let this thing with David go? It's not like you like you're Lowell...you're the exact opposite and it's not fair for you to hold a grudge against me for one guy when you have a girl for every letter in the alphabet."

Jax's smile morphed into a frown. "that's not the issue, Tara. I never tried to hide them from you—"

"—big fuckin deal, Jax," Tara snapped. Turning towards the faucet that was still running, she held her hands underneath the flow of the water, washing them of him before doing the same for her stomach. "Should I buy you a T-shirt that says _say it loud, I'm a slut and I'm proud?_" She couldn't fight the giggle clawing it's way up her throat when Jax cocked an eyebrow at her through the mirror.

Jax chuckled with her. "_Really_, Tara?"

"Really, Jax...you wear it like a badge of honor..." Their laughter died as her face fell. "Every time I see you with one of them...it _hurts _me regardless...why are you so _fuckin _proud of that?!" she shrieked suddenly.

_Opie's right. You females are out of your rabbit ass minds._

_Attempting to 'defuse the crazy' in five, four, three..._

"I don't mean it like that, Tara...I just mean...they're not—you're different 'cuz...when I'm with—_hey, it's not like you didn't pick the one guy I hate more than Kyle on _purpose! Go ahead and say you _didn't..._lie like you always do."

_I tried, bro._

"I said I was _sorry_, damn it!"

"And I can't un-screw all the girls I've slept with so how 'bout _you _give _me_ a fuckin break!"_  
_

"_Apples and oranges, Jackson. I haven't_ screwed _anybody!_"

Jax's mouth open and snapped shut.

He didn't fix his face in time.

Her eyes were already narrowing before he even realized how bad his reaction was. He found himself tempted to shield his knee caps the way Richard Rosen should have when he made the mistake of telling twelve year old Tara the reason she was so 'frikkin gorgeous' was because God wanted to give him something to focus on when she couldn't shut her mouth. Girls talk to much, Ricky thought. He learned real quick that they also like to kick the shit out of people.

"Oh...I _get _it," Tara purred, the sudden sharpness of her claws clear in her voice. "You can't just be a slut...you have to be a misogynistic jerk on top of it!"

"Massage-your-_what?_"

Jax's joke fell flat as she stalked towards, jabbing her finger against his chest.

"You're pissed because you think I slept with him!" Tara accused. "_God forbid_ I get horny and decide to spread my legs for the guy I like...the one _least _likely to give me a fuckin STD!"

_Crazy as HELL. _

_Every single one of them._

"That's not true," Jax lied, knowing she was one hundred percent right. How the hell did she expect him to feel? Was he suppose to smile at the idea of some other assholes hands all over her? If he could restrain himself from using all that pent up frustration she had to his advantage for years so could every fuckin body else.

"And you say _I'm _a liar?" Tara shook her head. "You want to be the only one."

"I do," he admitted quickly.

Her eyes widened briefly before they disappeared from view, facing towards his sneakers as she pulled her shirt back over her hand, sans bra. "I use to want that, too...now I'm not so sure you deserve that...I'll never be a first _anything _to you...I'll just be another...another _trophy _for you to put on your shelf."

Jax could think of a few firsts she could have if she wanted. None of them seemed appropriate to say at the moment.

So he changed angles completely. Pulling her into him, he raked his hand through the fallen curls of her hair. "Even if that was true being _first anything _doesn't matter if you're not the _Only..._the only one that _means_ _anything_."

Tara's eyes searched his, their foreheads pressed together. "Is that what I am to you, Jax? The _only _one that means anything?"

There was a crash outside the door.

Then all at once the sounds seeping into the bathroom through the thin walls between the two rooms assaulted their ears.

The sounds of lips smacking, strappy, high-heeled shoes clunking against the floor as they were yanked off and tossed aside. Zippers unzipped, buttons popped off and open, the audible swish of clothes being shed. Muffled moans as they struggled to keep their mouths apart long enough to finish undressing.

It was all there—the trappings of a homemade sex tape, but their was one thing that stood out to both pairs of perked ears listening in through the bathroom door.

Jax recognized her obnoxious giggle instantly. It took a little longer to hone in on the familiarity of the male voice reverberating through the walls.

But judging by the enraged expression on Tara's face when yanked the bathroom door open, nearly smacking him in the face with it?

She knew exactly who they were.

"I thought there was _nothing going on_ between you two?" Tara sneered, her glare darting between an amused Maize and a startled David. Her eyes finally stopped on her ex-boyfriend's face, the narrowing of her eyes reversing as they widened in surprise instead at the state of the now surly face in front of her.

The reigning Queen of mood swings and mixed signals switched gears with the flip of a switch going from a state of outrage to a doting concern as she rushed over to him. "Jesus Christ," she gasped, reaching for his face. "What the hell happened?"

David didn't answer her. Instead he shot daggers at the shirtless teenage boy standing at the threshold of his bathroom. Jax was too busy glaring at the back of Tara's head, glowering at her hands caressing the bruises on David's face—the bruises he'd put there.

As David softly moved her hands away from his stony face, Jax bit down hard on his own tongue to keep from throwing her question right back at her.

_Am I the only one that means anything to YOU?_

* * *

**|REVIEW|**


	39. EXTRASODE: Donatella

**A/N: **I actually had a lot of fun writing this **|EXTRASODE|** so I hope you'll get a kick out of it as well :-)

\- **Ve**ritable **O**ld **La**dy **Cr**ow

* * *

**"****Well you know Opie loves the crazy ones…"**

**_"_****_Or the high maintenance ones!"_**

\- **Jackson &amp; Tara…**

_"…..I don't know _who_ thought it was a good idea to show _you _how to box," Officer Palmer complained. "Actually I _do _know. I just think Lumpy shouldn't have agreed to train you. You were enough of a bully without it. Thanks to you, Quentin's gonna be a pain in my ass for months with all his bitchin and moanin about _the SONS…_how they get away with everything…"_

He should probably teach his nephew how to fight then, _Opie thought, as they approached the table where he sat. _Or convince him to intern at the court house instead prospecting _for_ the sons.

_Jackson Teller laughed at the twenty-something, blonde-haired deputy walking beside him, leaning against the booth where his best friend Opie Winston sat as they came to a stop next to it._

_"Aw, come on, Katy," Jackson drawled. "You're hurting my feelings right now. It's not nice to judge kids by who their parents are. My old man might be a rascal son of a bitch but I'm a _lover _not a fighter. And I _hate_ bullies! That's why I go out of my way to defend the underdog. Ask Ope."_

Sure you do. If defending them means fuckin their girlfriends.

_"Is that so, Prince Charming?" Officer Palmer cocked an eyebrow. "Is that what you were doing when you sent Kyle to the Emergency room? _Defending_ him?"_

_Jax cocked his head to the side, a mischievous grin turning his lips up at the corners. "You know you have the cutest dimples I've ever seen. You should smile more…_at me_ especially. It kinda makes my day every time you do."_

_"Keep dreaming, kid," Officer Palmer bit back even as she tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, her eyelashes fluttering._

_Opie smirked._ Un-fuckin-believable.

_"A couple more years and you can make my _dream_ a reality, Darlin," Jax crooned, wriggling his eyebrows up at her. "_Legally _I mean…but personally I think that whole age of consent shit is a bunch of bull. Love is love no matter what the age…so if you wanted to do it now, like say, later on tonight… I won't tell if you don't."_

Lucky son of a bitch, _Opie mused looking between his best friend—the jailbait, and the female officer fully equipped with handcuffs that were meant to arrest those who took the bait—like she clearly wanted to. _

_Color flooded the young cop's cheeks. And all Opie could do was chuckle when she lost the battle to keep her facial expression completely neutral as the high school freshman shamelessly flirted with her. _

_"Like I said," Officer Palmer whispered, patting Jax on his shoulder as she leaned in to the grinning teen. "Keep dreaming."_

_"Hey, I almost forgot," Jax started, as she turned, walking away from them. "I was wondering—"_

_"—NO," she answered, not bothering to turn back around as she cut him off. "I'm not giving you your weed back. Be happy I didn't arrest you for possession."_

_"How could you?" Jax complained, shouting at her back. "Your boss is probably smoking it right now!_"

_Opie snickered as Jax slid into the booth, sitting directly across from him. "So what's the verdict?" he asked._

_Smiling over at him, Jax pulled a joint from the breast pocket of his plaid shirt. He lit the freshly rolled blunt in his hand, taking a measured pull and Opie couldn't help but shake his head at him. _

_Jax was going to make his father's lawyer rich if he didn't stop giving California law the middle finger all the time. The local diner they sat in was the go-to eatery for Charming P.D and somehow Prince Teller saw nothing wrong with smoking one up right where they could see him._

_Even when one of the officers in question hadn't even left the diner yet._

_Katy Palmer stood by the take-out counter, a begrudging smile on her lips as she too shook her head at the young blonde's disregard for the authorities—her rookie-self included._

_"It's all good, bro," Jax answered as he blew the smoke out through his nose. "They have no case since he's refusing to testify or press charges… I don't know how Ole Quint' thought he could pull that shit off to begin with. Even without Unser, why the hell would he cooperate?"_

_Opie nodded. "Kyle still at St. Thomas?"_

_Jax shook his head. "Turns out I didn't actually break anything but his nose. Apart from that he's got a mild concussion and a split lip…he basically got off easy...considering."_

_"Considering he was pissed about you fuckin his girlfriend the Prom Queen?" Opie asked, chuckling._

_"He knew what it was when he got with Stacy, Ope." Jax shrugged his shoulders, taking another long pull of the blunt. "You know what his problem is, right?"_

_"What's that?" Opie's grin was wide as he scooped up a forkful of the apple pie on the plate in front of him, popping it into his mouth._

_"Kyle wants it both ways. He wants to be outlaw _and _hide behind his uncle. As if I'd hesitate to kick his ass just because his father's brother wears a badge. My Old man wears a _patch. _Deputy Chief don't mean shit around here…not to _us._"_

_"Yu-uppp," was all Opie said. And it was enough to get them both laughing._

_"Whoah. Check _her_ out," Jax said, nodding his head towards the window. Opie followed his eyes, looking through the glass just in time to see a dark-haired girl strutting inside the diner, a tall salt-and-peppered haired man holding the door open for her._

_"She must be new around here," Opie commented. The sway in her slender hips, the teasing glimpse at her midriff every time the hem of her off-the-shoulder blouse flitted up when she moved a leg forward—all of that kept Opie from catching it when his best friend rolled his eyes at the conclusion he'd drawn._

_"Of course she's new," Jax retorted, smirking. "If she wasn't I'd already have her number."_

_She couldn't have been more than five foot three, petite—curves in all the right places. Clipped up towards the center of her head, her dark hair had that wild effect you got when you let the wind blow through it on the highway. The wedged sandals on her feet didn't do much for her height but they definitely accentuated toned legs. Her eyes were hidden beneath a pair of aviator shades, small and cute—just like the girl wearing them._

_Her slow strut came to a stop at the counter as she relayed her order to the man at the register. She slid onto one of the four stools, her denim shorts riding low as she absently swayed left to right on the rolling chair._

_Both teenage boys were so busy enjoying the view from the neck down that it took a moment for them to realize that she'd caught them watching her. Sliding the dark shades from her face, up to rest at the crown of her head, she smiled._

_Jax noticed her staring in their direction first—the way he always did. He jutted his chin up, nodding at her and Opie—who had yet to take his eyes off her, watched as she slid down from the stool, walking over towards them._

_"Here we go," Jax whispered to his friend just before she reached the table. _

_Opie rolled his eyes, as he sat back against the leather cushion of the booth—getting comfortable for yet another episode of Jackson Teller: Panty dropper._

_"Hey," she said, rubbing her bare shoulder._

_"What's your name, Darlin?" Jax asked, smiling up at her._

_"_Donna_." _

_Opie was too busy enjoying his dessert to notice that she was looking directly at him when she answered. How his best friend missed it was anyone's guess._

_"I'm Jax," Jax said. "You in Charming visiting family?"_

_Donna's eyes darted towards him, a wry smile crinkling the corners of her blue-green eyes. "I live here."_

_"Even better." Jax's retort elicited a giggle from her even as she shook her head at him. "Since when?"_

_"What if I said I lived here all my life?"_

_Jax shook his head, smirking. "Not possible. I would have _definitely _noticed you. We'd be real good friends, too."_

_"I just moved here yesterday," Donna volunteered. She was looking over at Opie again, one eyebrow cocked._

_"Welcoming to Charming," Jax said, grinning up at her._

_Donna quickly nodded her thanks before turning her attention back towards the young guy that had yet to say a word to her. "You're not gonna tell me your name, too?"_

_"His name's Opie," Jax supplied, just as the boy in question looked up at her in genuine surprise. "He's not being rude, Darlin…my brother's just a little shy around girls…especially when the_ hot _ones__."_

Dickhead. _"What's up?" Opie said, his smile every bit as shy as the one she answered his with._

_"Opie," Donna chimed, as if testing out how the name sounded coming from her mouth. "Is that your real name?"_

_"It is to you," Opie answered, pulling at the beanie on his head._

_"I get it." Donna nodded. "I don't like my first name, either."_

_ "What's wrong with _Donna?" _Opie wondered out loud. _

_"I actually like the name Donna," Jax commented. "It's cute."_

_"Thanks," she responded, dryly. "So Opie, do you—"_

_"—so is Friday or Saturday better for you when we hang out this weekend?" Jax asked. _

Here we go, _Opie thought, smirking as he waited for the inevitable. _

_Donna finally turned, giving Jackson her undivided attention. Everything was going according to what both boys expected until her hand made its way up to rest on her hip. "That whole pretty boy thing works for you all the time, doesn't it?" _

_Opie's eyes widened in surprise. Jax had either missed it or chose to ignore the snark in her voice when she posed the question. "Yeah…_pretty _much."_

_Opie snickered. _

_Donna turned towards the chuckling teenager with another question just for him. "Is your brother always such an attention whore?" _

_"_Pretty_ much," _Opie echoed his friend's words, laughing harder.

_"Alright I_ got _you__. Clearly you're not into the _beauty_," Jackson joked, running a hand along his face as he slid out of the booth, standing up. "…so I'ma let you have your fun with my friend the _beast_."_

"Asshole," _Opie barked, smirking at him_.

_"Remember…a conversation is exchanging words back and forth not just staring at each other," Jax coached, winking at Donna as he waved his hand towards his vacated seat in the booth. _

_"I'll keep that it mind, smart ass," Opie bit back, grinning as Donna sat across from him._

_"'Atta boy, _Harry,_" Jax teased. "Same goes for you…._Donatella."

Donna's head jerked up, her eyes widening as she gaped at a smug-faced Jax. "How'd you—"

"Your necklace, _Tinkerbelle," he answered, nodding towards the chain on her neck—the one that_ should _have been hard to see with the way it was t__ucked down in her shirt. "Gift from your father I'm guessing…I bet you wear it just so he won't feel bad…you seem like that type. Daddy's little girl or what not."_

_"Leave her alone, stupid," Opie scolded, barely swallowing his smile before she turned her narrowed eyes in his direction. _

_Jax shrugged his shoulders. "Have fun, kids," he said, walking backwards._

_Opie knew exactly what his best friend was thinking just by reading his expression._

You _always_ get the high maintenance ones, _Jax was saying with his eyes before turning his back, to push through the diner's front door._

_"You go to Charming High?" Donna asked, bringing his attention back to the pretty girl sitting across from him._

_Opie nodded. "Spring break just started and I'm already wishing it never ends and this is only ninth grade. I still got three more years of this shit ahead of me."_

_"I loved _my _freshman year," Donna said. "Tenth grade is just as easy…it's _junior _year I'm worried about."_

_Opie's eyebrows rose. "You're a sophomore?"_

* * *

_Twenty minutes later, Opie was holding the door open as Donna walked out of the diner, take-out in a bag dangling from her wrist, a box of freshly made apple pie balanced in the other hand._

_Jackson stubbed out the joint in his hand, watching as his best friend hugged her, color flooding Donna's cheeks when he leaned down pressing a kiss against one of them before she got into her car._

_Opie didn't even make it all the way over to him before the teasing starting._

_"Just so you know," Jax said, "You two definitely have my vote for this years Homecoming King and Queen."_

_"Shut the fuck up."_

_"And cutest couple for the year book."_

_"You're such a jackass."_

_"You always get the high maintenance ones," Jax commented. "You want to know how I can tell she's a handful?"_

_Opie shook his head. "You think _any_ girl that doesn't fall for your bullshit is a spoiled brat."_

_"We both know I could have got her if I really tried," Jax explained. "You're right that she's not my type though. I bet she's planning your wedding in her head right now while she's driving home."_

_"All girls do that shit," Opie surmised. _

_"_Wendy_ doesn't."_

_"That's because Wendy is _you_ with tits," Opie joked. "And besides I don't care how fucked up her folks made her I bet she still scribbles your last name next to hers in the back of her notebook when no one's looking." _

_Opie's mouth slanted up into a lopsided grin when his friend suddenly burst out laughing. "What the hell is so funny?"_

_"Donatella Teller," Jax croaked out in between guffaws. "Try saying that shit fast ten times in a row! Donatella-Teller, Dona-teller—Do—Donna—tell—aw man, that would _never_ work. Now Donna _Winston_….hmm...oh! You like the way that sounds don't you, _Beasty?_"_

_"How many joints did you stash in your pocket before Palmer shook you down?" Opie asked._

And how many did you smoke?

* * *

**Thoughts? |REVIEW| **


	40. Chapter 38

**A/N: **All of the reviews. ALL of them were _amazing. _Keep it up with the feedback &amp; I'll be happy to keep writing for you guys

**P.S:** Perception is **everything**. I find it interesting that so many readers drew the same (WRONG) conclusion that Jax did in the story LOL.

\- **Ve**ritable **Old** Lady Cr**ow**

* * *

_"I, do." _

Tara wasn't standing with him at an altar. She wasn't wearing a poofy white dress. There were no bridesmaids, no best man, and no maid of honor. They weren't getting married, this wasn't their wedding day.

They were standing in her ex-boyfriend's bathroom.

And all it took were those two little words—that simple admission of what she'd known all along for color to flood her cheeks, for her temperature to rise.

Irrational fear had her looking down at his feet. She couldn't meet his eyes or he'd know just how badly she wanted the same thing he did.

But she had to stop.

She couldn't be half in, not like before.

Tara bent down. Picking up her shirt, she pulled it over her head, allowing herself a few seconds more to contemplate her words before she swallowed her pride and spoke the doubt in her mind. _"I used to want that, too_," she admitted quietly, her heart hammering in her chest. She couldn't stop her mind from flashing back to all the things David had said to her that first night the line between friendship and being _more_ went from blurred to obsolete—the night Opie's interruption was the only thing that kept her from doing the one thing she could never take back. _"….I'll never be a first anything to you… …I'll just be another trophy for you to put on your shelf." _

Jax's arms circled her waist, pulling her into him. Looking up, she met his eyes just as the tips of their noses touched. She felt this overwhelming urge to kiss him, but the solemn look in his eyes held her desire at bay as she bit her lip in anticipation of his response.

_"…Being first anything doesn't matter if you're not the _only…_the only one that means anything._"

Tara shivered as a chill ran up her spine, a tingling sensation that had her moving in closer to him—her lips just a whisper away from his. She didn't miss the slight shudder that rippled through Jax when their chests pressed together with only the thin material of her shirt as a barrier.

She could see it in his eyes—what he was saying without _saying _it.

But she was done making assumptions, done filling in all the blanks. Just as sure as she'd said exactly what she was feeling, she expected the same thing from the guy she was finally garnering the courage to open up to.

Tara's eyes were dual, heat seeking, emerald missiles locked and loaded on their target as she pressed her forehead against his. _"Is that what I am to you, Jax?_" she asked. If she _knew_ it, it was deep down—too deep to calm the angst firing up every nerve in her body. She held on to hope instead. Hope that she was right in what she was feeling, what he was _making _her feel. Still, she needed to hear him say it. _"…the only one that means anything?"_

Tara definitely heard the crash.

But just like the abrupt open and shut of David's bedroom door, the sound of zippers being pulled down, clothes and shoes being pulled off, the moaning and lips smacking together—all of it registered somewhere in a distant part of her brain. At the moment her focus was singular—Jax had her undivided attention as she waited for the yes or no answer to her question.

Jax never answered her—not in those seconds before their private moment was shattered.

His blue eyes had left hers as he turned towards sounds coming from the other side of the bathroom door. He shook his head, a smile of amusement spreading across his face.

That was when Tara realized she'd been holding her breath. Her exhale was a frustrated sigh as his divided attention forced her to acknowledge everything that was happening in the background—in _their _background.

Over the years she'd had the misfortune of becoming very familiar with the obnoxious giggle sounding from the other side of the door. Donna might have thought Sarah was an attention whore, but she paled in comparison to Maize O'Keefe.

_"She tried to make me jealous with that douche bag Hale today. It was a pretty damn good idea picking the one guy I hate the most, but she's seriously nuts if she thinks I'd ever be jealous of Davey boy. Any girl he fucks I've already been with twice…"_

Almost everyone.

True, her and David had never gotten far but of course the Prince of Charming had gotten further with her—a hell of a lot further.

Jax had _almost _been with her—twice.

And just moments ago he'd had his hand in between her legs, slipping his fingers in and out of her. She'd worked him over with her own hands, too. A bomb could have gone off in the other room and she was at least confident enough in herself to doubt that Jax would have noticed it during either act.

Yet he couldn't wait until the end of their conversation to reminisce on any one of his _many_ experiences with the second most annoying redhead she knew.

What did this bitch plant a tracker in Jax's tooth when he was passed out beside her during one of their weekend booty calls? How the hell did she even know he was up here? And what the—

_"Jesus, Maize…"_

David.

Maize was hooking up with David. She was bedding her ex-boyfriend—the guy she'd walked away from to be with Jax. David was about to sleep with yet another girl who'd only be picturing the guy standing shirtless in front of Tara when she kissed him—when she fucked him.

David Hale really knew how to pick 'em.

Tara pushed down the hypocrisy threatening to rear its ugly head as she seethed in silence at the cruel, selfishness of the chick getting busy with her ex in the next room. Her nostrils flared, her face hot as she tried to summon the calm she needed not to burst into the bedroom and drag Maize out of it by her hair.

One glance towards Jax and any hope of her staying put flew straight out the window.

But it wasn't indignation for her former beau that had her swinging the bathroom door open with a bang. It was yet another lethal combination of emotions.

Tara was disappointed in herself for being guilty of doing the same thing Maize was doing—using him. She was jealous—frustrated in more ways than one because she was the only person in either room that never "followed through", as Opie put it. She was the only one that never reaped the full _benefits_ of behaving badly.

Anger was the conquering emotion of course.

In her eyes, Maize had succeeded—she'd reached the goal she'd been aiming for. Jax was too busy honing in on Maize's sex-a-thon with Charming High's football captain to answer her fuckin question.

And she was pissed—at everyone involved, including David.

Why? Simple.

Because she could be.

_"I thought there was nothing going on between you two?" _Tara sneered, her eyes bouncing between the cheerleader and football star. Her double take was so abrupt she'd nearly snapped her neck when her eyes flitted back to the bruises marring David's normally handsome features. Concern temporarily overrode her anger.

She'd nearly tripped over her feet as she struggled with which direction to take first—the path that led to him or behind her, in the bathroom, where the first Aid kit was.

Finally deciding on assessing the damage up close first, Tara rushed over to him, her hand immediately reaching up to his face, fingers lightly pressing against the curve of his chiseled jaw as she angled his face downwards to get a better look. _"What the hell happened?"_ she asked.

Her question was met with stony silence. Tara turned, following David's narrowed eyes all the way to where Jax stood with a glare wholly identical to his. David's fingers circled her wrist, pulling her hand away from his face, but he was slow to let go of her. Tara looked down at the hand gripping her wrist only to find that the two young men in the room had yet another similarity to add to their matching angry expressions.

The knuckles of David's right hand were bruised just like the blonde practically foaming at the mouth behind her. Looking back and forth between the two of them, she recalled how quickly Jax had gone from concern and relief to anger when she'd asked him '_what happened before_'. He never did answer her, but looking at the two of them she was able to draw her own conclusion.

"Jesus, Jax." Tara sighed. "Did you really have to go there?"

"_Unbelievable._" Tara's head snapped over to where Maize stood, her arms crossed underneath the lacy, red bra exposed underneath the unbuttoned shirt she'd put on—David's discarded shirt from earlier. "How is that _you're _always the one judging everyone else? As if you're innocent."

_Really, bitch?_

"I don't even know why you're here," Tara snarled. "Well actually, I _do _know. And you're wasting your time. Even if you hooked up with _me _it wouldn't work. It would probably just turn him on."

"Wow." Maize's eyes widened. "I didn't know you were into girl on girl, Mother Superior. Too bad you're not my type. I prefer someone a little less…_frigid._"

Tara opened her mouth to respond when she heard David smirk. Her eyes found his and she couldn't deny the pang she felt in her chest. She didn't like the way he was looking at her—not at all.

He was looking at her the way Sarah did—the way both Junior _and _Judge Jacob Hale looked at her. She didn't know how she managed it, but Tara pushed back the voice in her head telling her to cut her losses and move on.

"I know I don't have the right to tell you who you—"

"—you _don't_," David cut in. "So why even fix your mouth to try?"

"She's just using you, David," Tara warned.

Tara never thought she'd ever ascribe the word _nasty _to any smile David aimed her way. "You mean like _you _used me?"

Tara shook her head. "It's not the same th—"

"—how is it different?"

"I didn't mean—_I actually _care_ about you_," Tara argued. Or at least she tried to. David was having none of it.

"Thanks, Tara," he sneered. "It means a lot that you care about me. Especially since you care so much you're fuckin this asshole in my bathroom."

Tara eyes briefly darted over to a shirtless Jax, then to the wide open bathroom door, her bra was still on the tiled floor where she'd tossed it aside. She knew how it looked, but it wasn't that—not exactly.

"I was—we weren't—_David, look—"_

"Seriously, Tara do you ever stop lying?" David challenged.

"That's what I want to know," Jax joined in. Tara turned to see him walking forward_—_pulling his shirt back on as he headed for the door. She reached for his arm, her fingers barely circling his wrist before he came to a stop, yanking it out of her grasp.

"You don't get to just walk away," Tara fumed. "We didn't finish our conversation."

"As far as I'm concerned, we finished what we needed to finish," Jax bit back, taking another step towards the door.

"Sounds like they're both tired of being jerked around," Maize commented.

"She probably jerked _him_ more than she ever did me and I was her boyfriend for six months."

"It was _five_," Tara corrected automatically.

"Oh you remembered that little detail?" David's eyes widened in mock-surprise. "Too bad you couldn't remember that when you're with someone it's wrong to shove your tongue down some other asshole's throat!"

"We're _past_ that!" Tara stressed. "I already apologized—"

"_Did_ you? All I remember is you feeding me some bullshit excuse about how much you _like_ me but not enough to stay out of _his _lap!" David snapped, pointing at a suddenly stock-still Jax. "You couldn't even wait a full twenty four hours to sleep with him? Or were you lying before? I bet you've been screwing him this whole time."

The thinly veiled pain behind his harsh words had Tara frowning instead of shooting her usual glare. "I was wrong and I'm sorry, David. But _this_," she said waving a hand between her and Jax, "it has nothing to do with you…what I _do _with him has nothing to do with you...not anymore."

"What about the other day? When you two were screwing in the school parking lot?" Maize interjected. "I wonder if Jax is good with _that_."

Tara chuckled bitterly, thinking back to the fundraiser. "That might have worked before but Jax doesn't even have a leg to stand on after today. _So shut the hell up," _she said, looking over at Jax.

His eyes widened briefly before narrowing to slits. That's when she realized his perception of her words. "So that wasn't just a rumor? You really did—"

"Yup," Maize answered.

"No, I _didn't_," Tara corrected, glaring at the redhead on the other side of the bed.

"You just stood there and told me, no, _yelled _at me that you didn't screw anyone."

Tara nodded. "I didn't."

_And so the FUCK what if I did?_

_Man-whore._

"You just said _I don't have a leg—"_

"—I meant because of what you did with Sage—"

"—_Sage_?" Maize blurted out. "What the hell does Lauren have to do with—"

"—none of your business, _bitch_," Tara snapped, the control she had on her temper slowly slipping away. "I swear to God, Maize. If you don't shut up you'll be deep-throating my _fist_ instead of his cock."

Maize wolf-whistled. "I'd ask you if you kiss your mother with that mouth but somehow I don't think that'll be an option any time soon, _unless…_have you felt any strange lumps in your tits lately?" Maize pointed her finger, waving it between David and Jax. "What about you _two _fellas_? _Ever notice anything strange when Princess Knowles actually _lets_ you feel her up?"

Tara's answering laugh was nasty. "All you're doing is wasting your time, Maize. I was confused…_conflicted_. You? You're just _stupid. _Jax is _never_ going to want you for more than what you've already given him…in front of half the fuckin school at that! And David is never going to _respect_ you or take you seriously no matter how good you are with your mouth so if I were you I'd walk away _without _the black eye you've been begging me for since this afternoon. At least then you'll look a little less pathetic. These are _my boys. _And you need to leave _both _of them the hell alone!"

"At least _you're_ finally admitting to fuckin them both," Maize swiped back. "I guess you're the _slut _you're trying to make me out to be."

_"One more fuckin word—_" Tara charged towards Maize, her hands flying out as if she could reach her when David slid sideways, body blocking her—his hands gripping the tops of her arms.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you, Tara?" David barked.

"The dick-down Jax gave her on your bathroom floor probably short-circuited her brain," Maize commented.

David ignored her. Tara did the same, her eyes locked with David's as she braced herself for the tirade she knew was coming.

"I'm not your _boy_. I'm not your _friend_. I for damn sure ain't your _boyfriend_. This is _my_ room...you're in _my _house. So you don't get to decide whose welcome. _I_ do. And I want you to leave."

_Damn it. _

_This wasn't supposed to happen like this._

"David," Tara implored. "She's just—"

"—she can't be any worse than _you_," David hissed.

A sad smile spread across her lips. "It was fun being friends…for the ten minutes it lasted."

"You've got to be the shittiest friend I've ever had," David bashed. "You _cheat_ on me…break up with me for the guy you cheated _with…_then you hook up with him in _my_ bedroom."

Tara was resembling a bobble-head doll again, her chin quickly jutting left to right. "I didn't pl—we didn't mean—"

"—you're a habitual liar," David seethed, "a selfish, manipulative _bitch_…and the biggest fuckin _cock tease _I've ever met."

"You better watch your fuckin mouth!" Jax interrupted.

_Finally on my side again, are you?_

Jax had stood there in silence, watching the scene play out like he was in the audience at a Broadway play. Why was he all of a sudden ready to jump in? Why speak up for her now?

Maybe he finally believed all the things she said to him instead of what his pigheaded brain wanted him to _see. _

Or maybe it was the slight glassiness that had suddenly glazed over her green eyes. "Your _father _called me the same thing."

David and Jax wore twin expressions for the second time that night as two pairs of eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"What are you talking about?" David asked. The lack of an immediate response had his eyebrows unthreading, his earlier scowl back in position. "You know what? Don't even answer. I don't believe anything that comes out of your mouth. You're just like...like S—"

"_Like Sarah?"_ Tara's smile was sharp, the heat emitting from her emerald gaze drying up any hint that tears had ever threatened to fall from her eyes.

Cock tease.

And yet another Sarah Hale comparison.

It was a deadly concoction—the simplest blend of ingredients for the Molotov cocktail David had unknowingly mixed together.

The self-made explosive came in the form of blunt words, determined _actions_—a reality check, straight up, no chaser. He'd finally tapped out on all the sugar Tara had left to coat the truth. And the brunette no longer cared to try making it go down easy.

"You're the third person to tell me that," Tara admitted. She shrugged her shoulders. "…maybe I _am_ just like her…that would explain why we were friends so long...and why we bumps heads. Maybe we're _birds of the same feather_...maybe not...I know _one_ thing. I may hate the bitch, but she definitely taught me not to hesitate to go after what I want…"

It wasn't forceful.

And there was no way she could have pulled him towards her if Jax hadn't allowed it. Tara placed one hand on his chest, the other curving along the side of his face. Tilting her head up, she pressed her lips to his.

It wasn't one peck after another either.

Their mouths never parted even as their lips opened, tongues dancing slowly, leisurely as if they were still all alone in the bathroom…or in the locker room…or in Opie's bedroom.

_"You gotta be fuckin kidding me_," Maize hissed.

The final tug of his bottom lip between her teeth before pulling back was partly for Maize's benefit. Tara looked over at David, taking in the sour expression she knew she'd find.

In the light of day she'd probably beat herself up about it but in this moment she didn't care—part of her wanted to hurt him the way his words had hurt her. And it didn't matter that she'd been the one to hurt him first.

"Get out of my house…_biker whore."_

Jax spun around, blue eyes blazing. Before he could charge towards him, an equally pissed off Tara hooked her hand in the waistband of his jeans in the back. Her other hand gripped the back of his neck. It was the act itself that gave him a brief moment of pause. That's was all Tara needed to circle him, standing between the two guys getting ready for round two.

"Are you guys seriously fighting over _this _bitch?" Maize complained.

Tara was spinning around when Jax grabbed her, forcing her to stay put where she was. The warning was clear in his eyes: If he can't go outlaw on David's disrespectful ass she wasn't allowed to flip out either.

Lucky for Tara, she had a better idea—one that would make them both feel better. One that was even more effective than rearranging the smart-mouth bitch's face.

Tara knocked his hands off her arms. Shoving against him, she gripped his shoulders, catching him off guard when she spun him around. Pushing him back onto the bed, she fell on top of him. Sitting up, her legs straddled his hips as she pinned his arms at his sides.

Tara released Jax's hands, turning to look over her shoulder at David.

"You should take notes, Mr. Football Captain," she taunted. "…_that's _a tackle motherfucker."

Looking over at Maize, the pure spite in her smile would have made Sarah Hale very proud. "and _youu...y_ou won't be scoring a touchdown with _either _one of them tonight. My earlier suggestion stands, _Maisey…_just get the hell out."

Maize looked like she wanted to punch her.

She also looked like she knew better than to try it.

_I guess you heard all _about _Sage after all…_

"Whatever, bitch," Maize hissed.

Tara looked down at Jax, dismissing the redhead the second Maize started walking. The shock in his expression had worn off. And the look he was giving her now had her feeling all types of—

"Both of _you _get the fuck out," David shouted at her back. "You got ten seconds and I'm calling the cops!"

It was hard to tell who burst out laughing first—Jax or Tara.

Tara was the one to respond to his empty threat.

"You're gonna call the cops?" Tara challenged. "Why? So they can write your parents a citation for having a house full of drunk underage teenagers? _That'll go over real well with the _Judge."

"I thought I would feel bad when he finally hurt you," David answered. "I even thought I'd actually be there waiting to pick up the pieces…Now I just hope I'm there to rub it in when this bullshit blows up in your face."

David turned on his heel, storming out of his own bedroom before he could catch the worry that seeped into his ex-girlfriend's features.

God, she hoped he was wrong—and not because it would give him the satisfaction of seeing her hurt.

It was because she didn't want to get hurt at all. No matter who was there to witness it.

"I'd tell you how fuckin turned on I am right now…but I think you can _tell,_" Jax said. His hands slid up the sides of her shirt, caressing the soft skin of her waist.

Tara turned back to look down at him and his hands immediately left her waist to grip her face, pulling her mouth down to his.

She pulled back slightly, filling in the blanks yet again—before the confusion marring his features settled in good.

"I'm serious, Jax," Tara warned. "No more throwing David in my face…you hear me?"

Jax shrugged his shoulders. "Who's David?" He pulled her toward him again.

This time she pulled his hands from her face. "No more _fighting_ with him either…I wasn't lying when I told him I cared about him, Jax. And I don't give a shit about all the fucked up things he said tonight. He's being a _dickhead_ because he's hurt…I hurt him and at some point—when he _let's _me—I'm gonna make up for that. For now...I put him in his place the same way I'll put _you_ in yours if you ever give me a reason to. Eventually he'll get over it"—_he'll get over _me—"and then we can start over."

"Tara," Jax urged, his eyes hard. "He's not your friend. He's never go—"

"—you don't get to decide who I'm friends with Jackson Teller. And I don't think you want to challenge me on that shit either. Because then we'd have to talk about your other favorite blonde..._Wendy."_

Jax sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face. "Fair enough," he grumbled.

_Not even fuckin close_, Tara thought.

Out loud she said nothing, opting to lean down towards him, granting him the kiss he'd been angling for from the moment they were left alone.

She was happy to resume the usual dance of their tongues, the delicious friction of the bodies pressed together, chest to chest—until his hands found their way up her skirt, fingers hooking into the sides of her panties.

Pulling back, Tara swatted his hands away. Her expression was the most pathetic attempt at sternness ever. "I'm not hooking up with you on my ex-boyfriends bed. It's _wrong…_he didn't piss me off _that _badly."

Without warning, Jax gripped her waist, flipping her over. Tara's back crashed against the bed. He pushed her shirt up, relishing the hitch in her breathing when he slid down, peppering wet kisses on her stomach. Tara moaned as he palmed her breast, massaging them underneath her shirt—lightly pinching her erect nipples between his fingers as he dipped his tongue into her navel.

Tara was a fidgeting mess underneath his touch as Jax traveled further down. Slowly, he pushed her skirt up. And she spread her legs wide faster than automatic sliding doors at a grocery store.

Jax hooked his arms underneath the crease behind her knees. Pulling her closer, he sucked kisses along the insides of her thighs before gently biting the spot just below the hem of her panties.

The second his teeth grazed the tender flesh, Tara bucked against his grip and his name and the word _please _were a strangled moan on her lips. It tore his eyes from the dampness he could see soaking into her pink panties. He zeroed in on the desperate look in her eyes, the shameless plea he saw in them.

Tara's eyes widened when he suddenly slid off of her, standing at the foot of the bed.

_WHAT THE HELL, TELLER?!_

"What's wrong?" she said aloud, managing to keep a lid on her frustration—in her tone of voice anyway.

"Nothing, babe," he answered, smirking at the piss-poor job she'd done at keeping said frustration out of her expression. "…but what I want to do to you right now…it's definitely a _first _for me, too and _I'm_ gonna be really pissed if someone interrupts me."

"_Oh_."

Tara's tone matched her facial expression—it was a bizarre cross between disappointment that he'd stopped and anticipation for what he was implying.

To Jax, it was fuckin hilarious. And when she glared up at him, all he did was laugh harder at her.

He held his hands out to her. "Come on, beautiful," Jax said, "we can do whatever you want…or do nothing at all. Let's just get the hell out of here. I hate being in this room."

"Where you taking me?" Tara asked as he pulled her up from the bed.

Leaning into her, he pressed his lips to the spot next to her ear before whispering, "Where do you _want _me to take you?"

It was a miracle they made it out of the room.

* * *

Tara was a shitty friend just like David said.

Why else was she rushing through the crowd of swaying of bodies, headed straight for her father's car without giving the teenage boy she'd came with a second thought.

She couldn't help herself. She was anxious to find out if Jax had meant what she _thought _he meant by saying she'd be his first time. His first time for what? He was so close, his lips inches away from the spot she'd wanted them. She'd dug her nails into the mattress to keep from grabbing a hold of his head, guiding his mouth where she needed it—where she desperately wanted it.

Was he lying? She had no way of knowing. The only thing she did know for sure was that she didn't give a shit. The act in question would have been _her _first and if it felt even half as good as it felt having his fingers inside her that was good enough.

Tara wondered if the shit-eating grin on Jax's face was a reaction to the way she hurried down the Hale's front steps, pulling him along—her hand entwined with his.

"_This_ is why I call you track star," Jax joked.

"Shut up," Tara bit back.

Jax stopped short, jerking her around by her arm. "Right...I'm guessing _talking _is the last thing you want me to do with my _mout_h right now," he taunted, once again throwing her earlier argument back in her face.

Damn it, if he wasn't right.

"If I said yes…then what?" Tara questioned. He was already pulling her into him before she got to the word 'yes'.

"What happens if _I _say yes?" Jax countered, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "Are you really gonna let me do it?"

Tara swallowed hard. "Let you do what?" she asked against his chest.

_"Taste you,_" he answered before sucking her earlobe into his mouth.

Tara cleared her throat. "Would…would I have to—"

Jax pulled back, his hand already caressing her face before his eyes met hers. "You don't have to do anything, babe. And if I'm being _honest_….the only time I have fun with you is when you're having more fun than I am."

_No blanks to fill in there._

"Is it really your—you've really _never _d—"

Jax shook his head. "I've never wanted to before. I don't even know why I want to _now…_I just _do…_Can I?"

Just when she thought she'd finally curbed the habit of tucking her hair behind her ear.

Tara's giggle was nervous. "Do you seriously have to _ask?_"

"I'll always ask," Jax answered, his eyes hardening. "That's the way it's _supposed _to be done. And when the answer's no that exactly what the hell it means…it means _no."_

It was terrifying the affect he had on her sometime.

It wasn't until just then that she'd even remember her dangerous close encounter with the stranger in David's bedroom. Still, she knew Jax's abrupt burst of anger wasn't aimed towards her. He wasn't even looking at her as his mind flashed back to earlier.

Or at least that's what she assumed he'd been thinking about as he suddenly cast an angry glance over her head.

"_Jesus Christ."_

"Jax?"

His eyes flitted down towards the inquisitive expression on her face. "Wendy's here."

"_O…Kay?"_

"You came here with Lowell, right?"

_Huh?_

"Yeah."

"You should go find him," Jax suggested, pulling out of their embrace. "I gotta go."

"_Seriously, Jax?_" Tara glared at the blonde sashaying past them. How pathetic was it that she knew it was Wendy just by the sway of her hips when she walked. Maize's laugh. Wendy's catwalk. When did she start noticing things about all the females that frequented Jax's bed?

"I haven't hung out with her in a couple days," Jax explained. "I just—"

"—you're ditching me for Wendy?"

Jax shook his head. "I'm not _ditching_ you. It's just—she's—look, she's my _friend _Tara…and right now I need to check and make sure she's okay."

"She looks _fine _to me," Tara complained, crossing her arms.

"I'm starting to really enjoy all these chances you're giving me to use your words against you," Jax commented. "You don't get to _decide _who I'm friends with, Tara."

"I'm not _sleeping _with my any of my friends!"

"And I'm done sleeping with mine."

Tara cocked an eyebrow. "_Oooh..._Was that supposed to make me feel better?"

Jax gripped her face in his hand, slowly pressing his lips to hers.

Once.

Twice.

The third was a lingering kiss, one where it pained him to untangle his hand from her hair, letting the soft tresses threaded between his fingers fall when he pulled back. "I _care _about her, Tara. I just need to make sure she's good...more than likely we'll probably get high and bitch about how fucked up our parents are like we always do…_without _the sex. I _am _capable of hanging out with a girl without taking her bra off, Tara. And if you want me to trust _you, _you have to give me that same shot."

Both eyebrows rose this time. "You really think it's _that_ simple?"

"Can we talk about this later?"

"You're asking me like I have a say," Tara answered.

"You _don't_," Jax admitted. "She's the only other person besides Opie that's never bailed—_wait a minute—_I don't mean it like that…it's just"—Jax looked over his shoulder. Tara followed his eyes, frowning when she spotted Wendy sitting on the steps, waiting for him—"…we'll sort all this shit out later, okay? I don't want you mad at me but I—"

"—fine," Tara conceded. She waved a hand in his face. "Go. Be gone."

Jax smiled. Shaking his head at her, he grabbed the hand in his face, kissing the back of it before turning to walk off.

Tara stood there, her finger absently tracing the wet mark his lips left on her hand. She watched his retreating back, her lips twisting into a pout as Jax sat down beside Wendy on the steps.

The insecurity she felt was almost overwhelming, crushing her spirits—all the way up to point when Jax's hand went from rubbing Wendy's shoulders, to pulling the dark, oversized sunglasses from her face. Even from a distance, the bruises lining her eyes were unmistakable. And it wasn't until she spotted the cut below her eyebrow that Tara also noticed the slight split at the corner of her lip that was in plain sight before he'd ever lifted her shades.

_Oh my God._

Jesus Christ was right—Jax's random outburst was spot on.

Tara had no clue what happened.

And as she walked around to the side of the house, avoiding the front entrance above the steps where they sat, she couldn't quite shake the guilt she felt—she knew it was wrong but she was relieved Jax had a real reason for leaving her for Wendy.

Maybe he really was just trying to be a good friend after all.

* * *

The Hale's backyard was empty—for the most part.

It was mere seconds before Tara spotted Lowell, hands roaming all over the girl she recognized from her art class, one leg curled around his waist as he pressed her back against the house.

_Go Lowell_, she thought, smirking. She was thrilled that at least one of them was getting a happy ending tonight.

"_HEY, ASSHOLE!"_

The young man who turned the corner right behind her, however—he had a difference of opinion.

He zipped past her too fast for Tara to catch even a glimpse of his face. Lowell was completely oblivious to the six-foot-two male approaching him from behind. Tara stood at the perfect angle to see the girl's eyes stretch to the size of saucers when the guy yanked them apart.

"Get the hell off of her!" he yelled, before turning to glare at the young women still leaning against the house. "Are you out of your mind? _Let's go, Kendra._"

"Sorry, dude," Lowell Jr. slurred, tripping into the glass table in the center of the back patio. "I didn't know she…had…a b-boyfriend."

"I'm her brother, asshole…What the hell is wrong with you? Hooking up with a drunk girl."

Tara snorted. "You're kidding me right?" she said to the guys back. "He's just as drunk as she is."

"Mind your business, bitch," he answered. "No one asked you." He didn't bother turning around to acknowledge her. He was too busy reaching for his sister—Kendra's strappy heels and the alcohol in her system were a poor combination where her equilibrium was concerned.

Lowell's legs were almost as wobbly as hers, but it didn't stop him from reaching for her as well, trying to break her fall before she fell face first and broke a few teeth on the concrete.

_Big Brother_ shoved his arms away, the force sending Lowell crashing against the table, cracking the glass slightly.

"Hey _Hulk-a-lese_!" Tara snapped, moving forward. "You do know there's more than one way to take advantage of a drunk person, don't you? It doesn't have to be sex. You could attack them knowing their too _drunk _for it to be a fair fight. Pussy move if you ask me…but no one did ask, huh?"

_"You never know when to shut your damn mouth."_

Tara missed it when Kendra's brother spun around to face her because she'd already turned her head towards the sound of Opie's voice.

"What the hell are you, my guardian Angel?" Tara exclaimed. "You keep popping up every damn where!"

_Like a fuckin poltergeist, _she added in her head, smirking as she recalled Jax's words.

"You know the saying _pick on somebody your own size_?" Opie taunted. "You and Donna might want to try it sometime. I swear you two are like fuckin Chihuahuas that think their Rottweiler's."

Tara flashed her middle finger, sticking her tongue out at him briefly before turning back around.

He was facing her, and in his some distant part of her mind she made note of how gorgeous he was. Her primary focus however was on her inability to meet his eyes. She couldn't because the dark eyes in question were staring at her breasts and everything else below the neck.

Tara snapped her fingers. "Eyes up here, pal." She couldn't stifle her giggle when she caught the slight shake of his head—it was a lot like a dog trying to shake water from his ears.

"It's _Tara_, right?" His question didn't sound much like it need a answer. "you beat out my _SAT _score last year."

Tara smirked. "_Pierce?_" He nodded. "I beat all your _ACT_ scores, too."

"I didn't think you were the partying type," Pierce commented, eyes once again drifting from her face down towards everything below it.

Tara felt Opie move past, behind her. His footsteps were followed by a loud grunt from Lowell—who she'd completely forgotten about—as Opie helped him up from his current position splayed sideways across the table.

"Why?" Tara wondered. "I'm smarter than you, so I have to be a nerd with no life?"

"I come to these things all the time," he said. "…and you're never there…the only time I see you is when you shove past me in the hallways trying to get to class."

Tara blushed. "I _hate _being late."

"I can tell," Pierce replied. "Listen I'm sorry about what I said before. It's just—"

"—I get it," Tara cut in. "It's cool."

"Cool…so I was wondering—"

"—I wouldn't if I were you," Opie interjected. Tara turned to glare at the half-giant teenager holding Lowell up by his shoulders. "Her boyfriend has the emotional maturity of an eight year old and he likes to bust people's faces in just for looking at her."

_Troublemaker._

Pierce's eyes widened. "Oh, you have—wow I was hoping that whole thing with you and David was just a rumor. I've been meaning to talk to you. You're just always on the move and outside of school I never see you…"

"I don't have a—"

Opie's cough sounded a lot like "_bullshit". _It made both of them look over towards him. "You should take your sister home before someone has to help _you _walk," he suggested.

"Opie!" Tara scowled.

Opie snickered. "You _know _I'm right."

"I'm sorry," Tara said, looking up at Pierce.

He nodded his head, smiling. "It's cool. He's right.I need to get her home and sobered up a bit before my folks notice she broke her curfew _again. _I'll see you around though, Tara."

"Yeah…sure."

Wrapping one arm around her shoulders, Pierce tucked his other arm under the bend of her knees, lifting Kendra up into his arms. Walking off, he looked back briefly, smiling as Tara held a hand up to him until he disappeared around the corner of the house.

"You trading in the jock for a nerd?" Opie teased.

Tara held her hand over the knots that were coiling in her stomach—she couldn't stop laughing when Lowell keeled forward, throwing up right where Opie was about to step, knocking him off balance as he skirted away from the carnage.

"How'd you know I was back here anyway?"

"I saw you guys leave the house," Opie said. "Caught up with Jax on the steps. He said he saw you walk back here."

Chunks splashed Opie's jeans as Lowell leaned over again emptying the contents of his stomach all over the patio.

"I think he's regretting those last few shots he took."

Tara shook her head. "What a lightweight. I only gave him two."

"_Hmm._.your two plus my five," Opie said.

"Jesus, Ope. I wanted him to loosen up, have fun, not get alcohol poisoning."

"He'll be alright," Opie stated. "He's done for the night though. You ready to go? I'll help you get him to the car."

* * *

Opie and Tara were just a few short steps away from the Cutlass when Jax and his favorite blonde caught up with them.

"What's wrong with, LJ?" Wendy's voice rang out.

Tara turned, almost dropping him. "First time always sucks," she said recalling her first night of underage drinking.

"I know that," Wendy teased. "Do _you_?" Tara shot her a glare, her eyes narrowing even more when she caught Jax subtly elbow Wendy in her side, shaking his head once at her. "Sorry."

She wasn't sorry at all, but Tara chose to let it go, deciding she'd rather change the subject. "Are you okay?" she asked, echoing the question Wendy had asked her earlier in the day.

Wendy's smile was wry. "My moms boyfriend is in town again...I'll heal...don't go getting all _Doctor Knowles_ on me either. Save the nursing routine for RAMBO over here."

"Whatever you say."

Wendy looked away from the concern in Tara's eyes, smirking at Opie.

"Where's your keeper?" Wendy asked, looking up at him.

"Donna is—"

Several cars screeched to a halt in the middle of the road.

Only one of them stood out among the sudden street-full of ugly brown and yellow striped sedans.

It was quite the accomplishment the way she'd managed to beat the SJC police officers up the driveway on such short legs as she rushed towards them.

"—_running towards us like a bat out of Hell_," Tara finished for Opie, pointing to the side of them just as soon as the loud beep from the blow-horn in Sheriff's hand pierced their eardrums.

Whether someone had glimpsed them through the window or the collective screech of tires managed to break through—the music was dead before the first officer made his way up the hill.

"PARTY'S OVER! ANYONE WHOSE STILL HERE A MINUTE FROM NOW IS GETTING HANDCUFFED AND CARTED OFF TO JUVIE FOR THE WEEK."

The Hale lawn was a swarm of high schooler's and College lowerclassmen scrambling across it. The five teenagers standing beside the Cutlass watched as everyone scampered left and right, making a run for it.

"You're a little for the party," Wendy shouted as Donna came to a stop in front of them.

Tara was the first one to notice the grief-stricken look in Donna's eyes. Opie was a close second as he placed a hand on her shoulder, tilting her chin up.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"I snuck out," Donna stammered, her eyes glistening. "…you weren't home s-s-so I went by the clubhouse looking for you…and no one was there… no one except Lowell's dad. He told me…he s-s-said…" Her tears were a steady stream pouring down her face.

"He said _what?_" Opie pushed at her cheek, angling her face back towards him when she turned in Jax's direction. "Donna, _look at me... _Right now you're scaring the shit out of everyone standing here. What the hell happened?"

She didn't have to answer the question. The frightened look in her eyes was enough for Tara's blood to run cold.

Dear God, she knew that look.

"_Someone died_." Tara's voice was flat, cold as ice. She wasn't simply guessing. It was the only conclusion that made sense to her. Everyone's eyes snapped towards her.

Donna's were the widest of all—the most alarmed, horrified. "No, no, no, he's not dead"—_yet. _She'd heard it in her voice even if nobody else did—"but it's _really bad…_" Donna turned towards Jax, blue-gray eyes begging him to understand—_what_, Tara didn't know. "_It's your dad, Jax. _JT was riding—"

_"Jackson Teller?" _Jax never peeled his eyes away from Donna's, completely ignoring the officer standing behind him.

"Yeah, that's _him,_" barked an unfamiliar voice.

"You're under arrest," the officer said before pulling both of Jax's arms behind his back, handcuffing his wrists.

Jax didn't resist at all. He stood there like a statue, staring at Donna as if her finishing her sentence—telling him something other than what he knew he'd hear if she _did_—was the only thing that would bring him back to life.

"What the fuck for?" Opie asked.

_"For almost killing my son you delinquent piece of shit! _He was part of it! I want _him _cuffed, too!_" _shouted a man that could have been Kyle the Jock's twin if not for the receding hairline and grey streaks in his hair.

Tara's feet moved of their own volition as she placed her hand on the arresting officers arm. "He didn't do anything wrong! He was defending—"

"I'm gonna ask you one time to refrain from putting your hands on—"

"—_this is bullshit!" _Opie yelled, as his hands were twisted behind his back.

"You can't arrest them!" Donna shrieked. "They need to be with their family. Jax needs to—"

"—_what the hell happened, Donna?_" Opie yelled again, as both he and Jax were pulled down the driveway towards the waiting police cars.

"_I don't give a shit, Uncle Quint! _If he's not down here in the next two minutes—JUST TELL UNSER TO HURRY THE HELL UP!"

Tara jumped at the volume of Kyle's voice behind her. She turned to see Sarah standing beside him, her arms crossed under her chest, smiling.

"I guess Gemma's the _only _Teller that's above the law. Too bad Jax can't get away with trying to kill someone in a blind rage," Sarah taunted.

"Now's not the time," Kyle tried to reason, but Tara was already seeing red.

She needed somebody—anybody to blame for this. Who better than Sarah?

"_You _did this?" Tara accused.

Sarah shrugged. "Even if I _did _what the fuck are you going to do about it?"

_ARGHHHHHHH._

Tara nailed her second tackle of the night as she pounced on the honey-blonde, knocking the smug grin off her face, smacking the taste out of her mouth, too as she landed on top of her chest.

She drew her hand back, her fist balled tight as she swung. "STOP." _Thwack. _"FUCKIN" _thwack. _"WITH." _Crunch. _"HIM!"

_And me!_

Strong arms pulled her up by her waist. The same hands that braced her until she was standing upright, yanked her hands behind her back, cuffing them together.

"I'm pressing charges on this crazy bitch," Sarah spat, blood spraying from her mouth.

"Yeah, no _shit_," the officer mumbled as he pushed Tara forward. "Let's go, _Ali._"

"WHY CAN'T YOU JUST CRAWL BACK WHEREVER THE FUCK YOU CAME FROM?!" Donna bellowed, charging towards Sarah before she could even get off the ground good.

_"We're running out of space, sir."_

_"And handcuffs."_

"Calm down, Tinkerbelle!" Wendy yelled, wrapping her arms around Donna's small frame. "Time or place…it's _neither _right now, sweetie."

_Ain't that the fuckin truth_, Tara thought as the officer holding her captive pushed at the back of her neck, urging her to quickly dip her head—to avoid getting a concussion when she was rushed into the backseat of the squad.

Seated right next to a frozen, eerily quiet Jax.


	41. EXTRASODE: I PROMISE

**A/N: **This gives a glimpse into the origin of the animosity between the Mayans and SAMCRO which will definitely be a part of the present day story through out. It's also a flashback to part of the reason JT grew conflicted with his lifestyle choices.

**EXTRASODE: **"I Promise"

* * *

_"Mommy, can I have more juice?"_

_"More juice _what?_" Gemma Teller prompted. Smiling down at her son, she brought a hand up to rest on her hip, one eyebrow cocked._

_Thomas' eyes flitted up toward the dining room ceiling, his tiny, bow lips pursed as he tried to figure out what his mother wanted._

_Leaning over towards him, Jackson placed one hand on his younger brother's shoulder, the other reaching to curve around the five year olds ear as he whispered the magic word to him._

_Little Tommy's eyes lit up. He cast a grateful smile towards the ten year old sitting next to him before looking back up at his patiently waiting mother._

_"Mommy, can I have more juice.._please?_" _

_Gemma beamed at her eldest child before nodding her head at the youngest. "Of course you can, sweetheart," she cooed, ruffling his already unruly blonde head. "I'll go get it and you make sure you finish your sandwhich, okay?"_

_Thomas nodded. "Yes, M'am."_

_Gemma headed back towards the kitchen, smiling to herself as she turned the corner. _

_She'd just pulled the container of juice from the middle shelf in the refrigerator when the loud bang of a gunshot sounded from the front of the house._

_She could hear the crackle of splintering wood, the resounding boom of the front door being knocked off its hinges—it was the perfect score, background music for when she immediately yanked the kitchen drawer open, pulling a .22 from underneath the case of forks and spoons. _

_Sliding the safety off with as much as ease as blinking her eyes, Gemma quickly rounded the corner, rushing from behind the tiny patch of wall that blocked her view of the dining room—where her children sat at the table._

_It was almost magnetic the way the gun in her hand automatically found the sweet spot on her target. _

_But that same hand began twitching, her whole body starting to shake. There was a tingling in her fingers, traveling up her arm, shooting through every vein. The numbness, the chill wrapped around her heart, making her stomach churn. Her chest felt tighter the longer she stared at him—her eyes were glued to the Mayan prospect aiming a gun at her ten year old son._

_She could hear Thomas crying. And she could practically feel the shudders coursing through his pint-sized body—but she couldn't see him._

_Jackson's shoulders shook as he stood tall as he could manage, chin up as he blocked Thomas with his body, shielding his younger brother from the man with his hand on the trigger._

_"You're making a big mistake," Gemma warned, her finger tapping against her own trigger. "Does your boss know you're here? Threatening the family of a _son_? Threatening John Teller's Old lady and her—"_

_"—_Cayate!" _The young Mayan prospect scowled. "Quit trying to scare me with your credentials, bitch. Your status don't mean shit outside of Charming"_

_"We're _in _Charming, asshole," Gemma barked. "You're in _my _town and you're gonna have _my _Old Man__ to answer to if—"_

_"—your husband made a shitty call yesterday," the prospect taunted. "siding with the one-niners puts us at odds, mami."_

_"There is no _us _for you," Gemma scolded. "No _we... _Right now you're just some grunt trying to earn your patch. You trying to get a gold star by bringing in the SAMCRO President's Old lady? Coming for _me _is a big move, sweetheart. And you wetbacks always keep shit interesting…but your _initiation_ has nothing to do with my kids. Leave them out of it."_

_"You think I give a shit about your kids?" The Mayan aimed the gun higher, moving up from Jax's chest, towards his face. "You think I never killed a kid before?"_

_"Alright," Gemma said, aiming her gun away from him. Holding both arms out on either side of her, she slowly walked towards him. "I'll go with you. Consider your initiation in the bag…just leave them here. Leave my sons out of it…I'm not going to fight you," she said, moving as close to him as she could without the gun suddenly being aimed her way tapping against her forehead. Slowly, she made a show of sitting the gun in her hand down at the head of the table where her husband always sat—where the stood now, on the opposite end of the room where her children were._

_ "Hurting children?" Gemma shook her head, her expression not unlike one she'd give Thomas when explaining something his naïve mind could never truly wrap his head around. "I don't think that's what Alvarez had in mind…that's a lot of blowback, sweetheart. Not just from SAMCRO…we're outlaws but certain things we just don't do…"_

_There was a split second when he seemed conflicted on how he wanted to proceed with the situation he'd created._

_Anyone who truly knew Gemma Teller would have never made that mistake._

_His brief moment of confliction was the distraction she needed to launch herself at him, immediately grabbing the hand he held the gun in as her abandoned one skirted to the floor with a clang that went unnoticed. Ramming an elbow hard into the young man's chest, both her hands gripped his one as she aimed the gun upwards._

_Both children on the other side of the table jumped as bullets ripped through the ceiling, sheetrock raining down over their heads, the chandelier above the dining room table crashing down in the center of the mahogany oak. _

_Two more rounds pierced through the dining room wallpaper before the Mayan managed to overpower her. He sent Gemma flying backwards, cracking the gun against the side of her jaw. Blood sprayed from her mouth, against the shiny hardwood floors._

_"LEAVE HER ALONE!" Jackson screamed over Thomas' wailing cry. _

_The young prospect made his second mistake as his head jerked towards the ten year old hopping up on top of the table, running across it, towards him. _

_Whether it was the pure rage in the kids' eyes, nature's ingrained instincts—or a combination of the two, the Mayan turned the gun still in his hand on the boy charging across the table._

_"NO!" Gemma yelled. She reached up for him, grabbed him by the ends of his leather Kutte just as he pulled the trigger._

_The Mayan squeezed the trigger once._

_Then again. _

_Then two times more._

_The guns click finally registered after the fourth attempt. Realizing he was empty, he dropped the pistol quickly, pulling a knife from inside his kutte._

_Jackson never stopped running. He was still coming for his mother when the gun was aimed at his chest. And when the gun hit the floor he was already jumping over the chandelier, wrapping his arms around the Mayan's neck—knocking the knife from his hand in the process._

_Gemma pulled his legs from under him. She was so focused on protecting her kids she realized too late that her action would hurt Jax._

_The ten year old fell against the table, the back of his head hitting the edge._

_"JACKSON!" she screamed._

"JACK!" _Thomas squealed, crawling towards his big brother from underneath the table where he'd quietly sat on top of his mother's gun. _

_Gemma reached for her eldest child, pulling him towards her. Stroking the scarlet-red soaking into the blonde hair at the back of Jax's head, she was too lost in motherly concern to remember the man towering over her. She winced, cringing at the sharp pain shooting through every nerve ending in her own head when the Mayan grabbed her by her hair, yanking hard._

_He dragged her backwards, one hand reached to grip tightly around her neck. Tears rolled down her face, the glassiness to her eyes blurring the view of Thomas pulling on Jax's shirt as he struggled with getting up to help her and leaving his hysterical baby brother underneath the table._

_Gemma scratched at his calloused fingers, nails clawing at his grip on her throat. _

_"You're dead, you hear me, _punta?_" The prospect yelled over Thomas' screaming. Pulling her up he shoved her into the living room. The force of his push sent her flipping over the arm of the couch, landing face first into the coffee table, shattering the glass. "As soon as Marcus gives me the okay, I'm gonna—MOTHERFUCKER!"_

_The adrenaline keeping her from passing out was slowly losing its power. It took just about every ounce of energy in her body for Gemma to lift her head up to see the source of the Mayan's sudden anguished yelp._

_It wasn't the bloodcurdling pain shooting through her temple—it was the shock of what she was seeing that nearly rendered her unconscious._

_Jackson, her ten year old son was pulling the Mayan's blade from the man's shoulder, his feet planting firmly back on the ground as he landed from his jump._

_It was eerie, chilling, almost terrifying how much young Jax resembled his father as he glared at the man towering above him. _

_"Leave my mommy alone!" Jax shouted, slashing at the back of his neck as he continued to jump up and down, instinctively trying to puncture anything vital that wasn't shielded by thick leather._

_The Mayan spun around. Awareness flashed in Jax's eyes. Knowing he was seconds away from losing the only weapon he had, the blue-eyed boy raised his arm and plunged down with all his might, lodging the knife in the Mayan's thigh._

_"_HIJO DE PUTA_!" the man screamed. Leaning forward, he put full force behind the blow as he swung his elbow at him, knocking Jax in the face._

_Between his own outcry of pain as he pulled the knife from his leg, Thomas's scream-crying behind the couch and Gemma shouting "I'M GOING TO FUCKIN KILL YOU," no one heard the rumbling of the motorcycle outside the unhinged front door._

_Or the footsteps that followed when the engine died._

_The prospect was wielding the bloody knife in his hand, pulling a dazed Jax up by the collar of his shirt when gunshots rang out in the Teller residence once more._

_More engines died. And more footsteps sounded._

_John Teller's were the first to land near the patch of carpet where his eldest son leaned back against the front end of the couch, his eyes shutting._

_JT sank to his knees. "Jax!" he grunted out, shaking him slightly as his eyelids fluttered. "_Jackson! _Are you okay, son?"_

_Jax's blue eyes widened as he abruptly came to. Squirming out of his father's grasp, he stumbled three times before finally reaching his destination—behind the couch where Thomas' hiccups were at war with the cry ripping through his hoarse throat._

_"You okay, Tommy?" Jackson asked, boring into his baby brother's face. The crying Old lady and the husband consoling her were dead to his world. All he could focus on was Thomas._

_"You're bleeding, Jack," Thomas choked out, his little fingers rubbing his older brother's swollen jaw._

_"I'm okay."_

_Thomas shook his head, shrieking, "you and mommy—"_

_"—Dad's here," Jackson explained. "We're safe now, Tommy. I promise, Okay? _Promise."

_"Pinky promise?" Thomas held out the smallest finger on his right hand._

_Jackson winced as he tried and failed to smile. He held up his own pinky, twisting it around his brother's. "Pinky promise."_

_"Okay."_

_The word _okay_ was a hiccup. _

_And it was the final sound Thomas made before his hand, and the body connected to it collapsed, his eyes rolling back as he fell into his big brother's chest._

_"Tommy?" Jackson shook him the same way his father did to him. "Thomas? Tommy! _DADDY!"

_Jackson's scream was an earsplitting screech that had every adult in the room running towards them._

_Gemma pushed through, her husband falling to the floor right beside her. Jackson scooted backwards—his blue eyes wide in fear._

_She laid him on his back, softly letting his head drop against the carpet. Pressing an ear to his chest, one finger pressed against his tiny wrist, Gemma's eyes were just as wide as her sons._

_"He's barely breathing, John!" she croaked._

_"SHIT!" Happy Lowman hissed from the other side of the couch._

_"Mother of _Christ!_" Chibs yelled at the same time._

_Bobby already had his phone out, dialing three numbers before Tig grabbed his wrist._

_"What the hell are you doing, brother?" Tig scolded. "We got a dead Mayan in the middle of the living room."_

_"We're gonna have a dead _SON _if you don't back the hell off!" Piney grunted, shoving Tig aside. "Call them!"_

_"Gem, let Chibs check him, We'll get Thomas to the h—" Clays suggestion was cut short as the dark-haired woman glowered up at him, her voice a guttural growl._

_"GET ME SOMEBODY WITH A FUCKIN M.D YOU FUCKIN MORON!"_

_"Call it in, Bobby!" John ordered._

_Bobby pressed send on the flip phone. Pacing back and forth as the 911 operator picked up the call, he both gave and received directions_—which he repeated for Chibs' benefit as the Scotsman gently pushed through the troubled parents on the living room floor.__

_"This is _me," _Gemma cried, placing a hand over Thomas' barely moving chest. "It's the family curse…"_

_"He's gonna be okay, Gem," JT declared. He looked over at his other son. He lifted the hand that wasn't caressing the blonde locks of Thomas' hair to brush a thumb through the steady trail of silent tears rolling down Jackson's face._

_"He's going to be okay, son," JT assured him. "Look at me," he ordered, while simultaneously gripping his trembling chin to turn his face towards him. "Thomas is going to be...just fine, Jackson. _I promise."

Jackson was too old for Pinky promises.

But God bless his heart, he really missed the comfort they used to bring him.

* * *

**THOUGHTS? |REVIEW| (same for |CH38| if you haven't already)**

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**


	42. Chapter 39

**A/N: **Hale House Party, Jax **POV.**

**\- Veritable (Old Lady) Crow**

* * *

The hearty chuckle rumbling through Jax's chest held more vibrato than the speakers blaring above their heads. Tara loved running off. She was infamously known for doing it, too. But he couldn't think of a time when he'd ever seen her move faster. Amusement didn't slow him down either. He was just as eager as she was to get to wherever they were going and do whatever they were going to do.

Whatever she'd _let _him do.

It had took a lot out of him, pulling back in David's 'd been in his favorite spot, between the softness of Tara's thighs. Peering up at her, he loved the way her thick eyelashes fluttered as those hypnotic green eyes of hers struggled to stay open—as they fought to keep contact with the blue one's staring up at her. He'd sucked a kiss on the apex of her thigh, on the crease right below where he knew she wanted it. The gentle nibble that followed had sent her arching up off the bed, towards his mouth.

Jax didn't even know how he got there. He'd been so wrapped up in the sounds she was making, so transfixed by the way her moaning only got louder, more strained—_sexier,_ the lower his lips went, the closer they got to the center of her. Was he going crazy, or did she really smell amazing? The moisture soaking into the lining of her panties had his mouth watering inexplicably.

Was it purely Tara and his addiction, his rapidly growing obsession with the sounds coming out of her mouth?

Or was it his ego, that familiar Teller-spite rearing its ugly head?

He wanted to please her, no question. But more than that, he wanted to make her feel like no other guy ever could—especially David Hale.

Tara might have been a virgin, but Jax knew first hand that she was far from innocent. Just how far had that Douche bag gotten? Did he have the pleasure of watching her eyes roll back as she rode his fingers? Did he get to see, to feel, to taste the nipples rolling between his fingers as he massaged her perfect breasts? Did Tara stroke his cock to the climax with her hands while the magic she worked on his tongue with her mouth made him picture an entirely different act?

Jax was learning quickly that Tara had an acute ability to send his imagination into overdrive.

So, even though it was twisted, he couldn't stop the increasing hardness in his jeans as he thought of how fuckin awesome it would be if David Hale were to walk back into his own bedroom and see the girl he lost writhing against his sheets, too lost in the ecstasy brought on by Jax's tongue to even notice his presence.

Jax couldn't fight the mental picture—the rage, the contempt, the envy he'd see in his hazel eyes when he saw Jax's face buried between Tara's thighs—his lips too lost inside her all her warm, wetness for David to truly see the proud smile spread across his face. Jax imagined the only thing sweeter than seeing the dumbfounded look on his face would be Tara's taste on his eager tongue.

And the only _bitter_ thing he could think of would be him failing to get it right on the first try. Jackson Teller was a quick study when it came to sex—but this was Tara.

For the first time in a long time he actually gave a damn, he was conscious enough to want it to be perfect. He wanted time to learn just what to do to her and just how hard or soft, slow or fast she liked it done. She was a videogame he'd never played before. And he didn't have all the cheat codes yet but he'd be damned if he didn't ace every level with her. He'd earn the top score and keep the number one slot at all costs.

That's why he couldn't risk any interruptions.

He couldn't risk Tara turning what they did—what he wanted to do to her right then into something to feel guilty about later just because of where it happened. Jax always loved it whenever he was able to override the sensibility in her mind, coaxing Tara into doing what her heart wanted, what _the rest of her body_ wanted. But he always paid for it afterwards.

David wouldn't ruin this for him—he wasn't fuckin things up for _them. _

Every moment they had would be theirs alone, free of any regrets or worrying about what felt _so_ good being bad, what felt so right being wrong.

It killed him, brought him back to life, then flat-lined him eight more times when he stood up from the bed. He'd almost choked on his own frustration, the insatiable curiosity increasing the throbbing between his legs when he pulled her up from the bed to escort her out instead of letting his other head call the shots.

Her trust in him, the eagerness to be alone with him again that had Tara pulling him through the crowd of dancing bodies was as good a consolation as any.

She wanted him just as much he wanted her.

_Almost as much._

Sprinting towards the front lawn, teasing her was a past time that never got old as Jax spun her around to gloat about how impatient she was to get away with him. She probably would have punched him in his chest if she could read his mind because then she would have known just how cute he found it when nerves had her biting her lip as she fretted over what exactly he expected from her.

When he said, _"…..the only time I have more fun with you is when you're having more fun than I am,"_ it was far from the smoothest thing to say but it couldn't have been closer to the truth. Any real excitement manifested when he saw how much _he_ could excite _her._

_"Do you seriously have to ask?" _

Once again, her voice and the inquisitive words she spoke triggered mental imagery that couldn't be stopped, but it wasn't a fantasy this time.

It was a memory.

He found himself flashing back to how terrified he was, how equally enraged he became as he watched that asshole backing her into a corner. He couldn't bring himself to imagine what would have happened if he hadn't followed after her—after them. The heart suddenly beating a bruise against his ribcage couldn't take it. He couldn't quite get a handle on his temper just yet either.

But he could make himself clear to her—let Tara know of the one thing she'd _never _have to worry about with him.

"_I'll _always _ask," _Jax stressed, losing the battle to keep his tone of voice completely soft. _"That's the way it's supposed to be done…And when the answer's no, that's exactly what the hell it means…"_

His heart skipped a beat as he silently hoped the alarm in her eyes—the slight fear that crept into the emerald green was because she too was flashing back to her dangerous close encounter and not because she was afraid of him.

It had physically hurt Jax that her knee-jerk response was to back away from him when Opie and Jacob Jr. first left them alone in the room together.

Her earlier commentary on the Outlaw lifestyle didn't help matters. He needed her to know beyond what _any _subculture of society deemed acceptable _he, _Jackson Teller he would never doing anything to hurt her.

No matter how much of a short tempered, smart ass she was (and Tara Knowles was a master at getting under _his_ skin)

He opened his mouth to tell her just that, when something—or rather someone—behind her caught his eye.

Wendy was walking up the Hale's front lawn.

Stark night, save for the lights along the walkway between the grass—there was absolutely no reason to be wearing sunglasses.

And there was only one reason Wendy wore the over-sized shades on her face in particular.

_JESUS CHRIST._

He hadn't even realized he'd said the words out loud until he heard the question in Tara's voice.

That fuckin crank pusher was back in town, using seventeen year old Wendy's face as his personal punching bag.

And Jax wasn't just angry because his friend's train wreck mother couldn't stay away from drugs and the man providing them for the sake of her own daughter.

He was pissed because he knew that Wendy was way too proud (even prouder than_he_ was) to admit she needed someone to lean on tonight.

He was annoyed because Wendy's so called best friend Ima was probably somewhere fuckin or throwing up all the shots she did (or one and then other).

And the part of him that remembered all the times Wendy was there when he needed her wouldn't let him leave her hanging. He had to go make sure she was okay. It was the right thing do.

Doing the right thing really fuckin sucked sometimes.

_"She looks _fine _to me_," Tara complained when he told her what he needed to do—in spite of what he really, _really _fuckin wanted to do.

Tara had no idea that he was convincing himself to be a good friend just as much as he was convincing her. And she was only making shit worse by yelling that she wasn't "_Sleeping _with her friends!"

Jax didn't want to tell Tara that she was the only girl—friend or otherwise—that he wanted. He didn't want to tell her because showing her would be way more fun.

But he couldn't.

Well, he could. But that would make him an asshole.

"And I'm done sleeping with mine," Jax answered. _ Unless you're still buying into that bullshit about _us _being just friends._

Tara eyes widened, her mouth forming an O-shape like she was trying to make a ghost-face._  
_

"_Ooooh..._was that supposed to make me feel better?" she snarked._  
_

Jax didn't want to make her feel better right now. He wanted to make her feel _good_. So good she was moaning again, just like she was when he got her up on top of that bathroom sink._  
_

_I'm going to kill that Mexi-asshole_, Jax thought.

He had to walk away now or he was never going to do.

But he couldn't leave without making sure Tara knew where they stood—where he stood with her.

Leaning in, He grabbed her face, kissing her. He marveled in how quickly all the tension he could see in her body melted away the second his lips met hers. But all he did was wound himself up tighter, make his jeans feel even smaller, and set off a subtle shake in his fingers as he forced himself to pull them out of her hair.

It was cute the way her lips formed into a pout when he pulled back. It made him feel just a little bit better knowing his misery had company this time around. Still, he bit back a groan when all the tension he'd thought he relieved came back ten-fold. He had to fight not to roll his eyes as Opie's voice rang out in his mind.

_"...you never once told her how you feel." _

Jax didn't see the point in stating the obvious but he decided to try it his way. He decided to use his words, leave no blanks for her to fill in herself (because chicks were crazy and they always filled it in wrong)

_"You really think it's that simple?"_

Being earnest didn't help much.

All Tara did was question how naive it was to assume they could just trust each other because they should.

Jax didn't think it was his place to tell Wendy's business, and why should he have to, anyway? It wasn't like he knew about all the secrets her and Opie were keeping.

Asking her if they could, "_talk about this later," _was a brush off that tasted bitter on his tongue.

He didn't want to talk.

He wanted to pick up where they left off in that haunted mansion the Hale's called a house.

When Tara finally waved him off, telling him to "_be gone_," kissing the back of her hand was just him being a smart ass.

He was rewarded with the sardonic smile he'd just finished wiping on her face when he got her off. He wanted to do it again.

Right.

Now.

_You just HAD to get your fix tonight Ms. Case, _he thought bitterly as he headed towards the woman's teenage daughter.

_And now I'm dealing with another case._

_ A case of really bad fuckin luck._

_SHIT._

* * *

"For a second I thought I might need a crowbar to get you two apart," Wendy joked as soon as he stopped at the steps in front of her.

_DAMN NEAR._

"What happened to calling me if he came back in town?" Jax scolded, sitting down beside her.

"I see you and Miss Know it all are back on again," she commented, her head angled towards the brunette who looked like she was tempted to walk over to them.

"Stop trying to avoid my question."

Wendy smirked. "I didn't think you'd pick up on that...I figured you'd be a little too preoccupied with your_trackstar_...you know she's watching us, right?"

_Goddamn it._

_"Wendy—"_

"I don't want your dad and his _brothers _in my business, okay?" she snapped finally.

Jax scrubbed a hand across his face. The gesture seemed to wash away the frustration twisting up his features, which softened immediately. Reaching over he began rubbing her shoulder.

"I said I wouldn't tell them."

Wendy cocked an eyebrow—the one that didn't have a cut slashing through it. "You said that? _R__eally? _When was that?"

Jax shook his head. "Okay, maybe I didn't _say _it but _you_ didn't say you didn't want me to tell Opie, not outright. I just knew you didn't want _anyone _to know by your reaction. I know how to read between the lines. Apparently that's something only guys know how to do since what I said to you _obviously _went right over your head."_  
_

Wendy laughed. "You know what, Jax? Nobody born with a dick should ever be allowed to _use _the word obvious. You guys are clueless even when we spell shit out for you."

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

Wendy's smile faltered, making the split in her lip that much more prominent. "You know what happened...same as always. Courtney got high as hell, picked a fight with her _dealer_ about his wife and I had to jump in when he started beating the shit out of her."

Slowly, Jax reached a hand up to pull the oversized sunglasses off her face, biting his lip to keep the loud curse on tip of his tongue at bay. "Why are _you _always the one with all the cuts and bruises?" he said softly.

"Because—"

"—that was a rhetorical question, Wendy," Jax cut in. "You're always trying to help someone who doesn't even want to help her damn self and in the end you're the one that gets fucked. I would ask you why you even bother but that would be another question I already know the answer to, Darlin."

"She's my mother," Wendy supplied, looking down at the tiny space between them.

Jax nodded although she couldn't see him. "And I can't do anything to change that...or fix how screwed up she is but I know one thing I _can_ do."

Wendy looked up at him, a mischievous smile spreading across her face. "Ditch your girlfriend to get high and keep me company? _Fucked _and _fucked up. _Nobody does it better than us."

_Oh boy._

Jax chuckled. "I can't argue with that, but I was actually thinking I'd kill that fuckin wetback. I don't think their's an age restriction on outlaw justice where I'm from," he joked, winking at her.

"Oh yeah? You're gonna go all _Men of Mayhem _on his ass?" Wendy's smile widened, even as she rolled her eyes.

Jax shrugged his shoulders. "Just say the word."

"I don't know how I feel about _Prince Charming _committing murder but you could at least make him bleed," Wendy retorted, pointing to her eye. "Thanks to him and the world's greatest mother I'll be walking around looking like _Petey_ the pitbull for a week."

"Awww, come on Darlin," Jax drawled. "Even with all the bruises you know you're hottest chick here tonight."

"Oh _I _know it, baby," Wendy answered, giggling. "I just don't think _you _know it," she teased.

Jax smirked. "Trust me, Tara is in her own category," he admitted to himself—out loud. "I wouldn't call her hot either. It's more like _Hot'N'Cold_..."

"More like_ nuts_," Wendy corrected. "Just because she's better at at hiding it than Tinkerbelle doesn't mean her screws aren't just as loose. You _and _Opie like the high-strung, crazy ones."

_It's not like I can help it._

_And I damn sure tried._

_I tried really fuckin hard, too._

"You know...Thomas used to make us watch that _stupid _Wizard of Oz movie over and over again," Jax commented. "Sarah loved it, Ope pretended he liked it—which should have been my first clue with...you know.."_  
_

"Is there a reason you're reminiscing about childhood move nights?" Wendy asked.

When he didn't answer right away she smirked, wriggling her eyebrows at him. "Wow, Jax...Well at least your way of deflecting is more interesting than mine. My go-to is to mess with you about Tara and yours is..._Dorothy and Toto?_"

"No, you gash," Jax said, grining. "I'm trying to make a point using a shitty movie as an analogy."

Wendy cocked an eyebrow. "...about ruby slippers and how you secretly always wanted a pair?"

"About _witches."_

"_Huh?_"

"In the movie, that blonde witch Gloria—"

"—_Glinda—"_

"—She told Dorothy that only _bad_ witches are ugly."

"—I'm trying to follow but you pretty much lost me after the word _Wizard, _Jax."

"—I'm feeling like Dorothy right now..._dumbfounded..._by a beautiful witch," Jax explained. "And I'm calling bullshit on what Gloria said because I don't think the gorgeous ones are all that good. They're just as evil."_  
_

"_Umm_..." Wendy brought a fist up to her mouth. Her sudden fit of coughing sounded a lot like laughter. "Are you calling Tara...a witch?"

Jax didn't realize until then just how crazy he sounded. "You're the one who said she's got me under some kind of spell," he mumbled, his face turning red with delayed embarrassment.

Wendy was laughing so hard the people inside the house should have been able to hear it over the music.

"Oh you are _soooo _gonna regret saying that shit to me when I run into Opie!"

"This is why I don't bother trying to spell shit out for anyone," Jax complained.

"You paint a very vivid picture, dude...one that's prettier than all of Munchkin land!"

"Fuck you, _Petey."_

"I'm so...I...I'm...I'm s-sorr-eee...Look, it's always good to express yourself," Wendy choked out in between giggles, "and girls with names like _Tara_ and _Donatella_ love that shit...but I suggest you write your thoughts down on paper first..that way you can cross out all the shit you _shouldn't_ say...like everything you just said to me."

"Damn it," Jax hissed. Slapping a hand to his forehead, he found himself turning to glare over at the spot they'd been standing together moments ago. "I didn't even sleep with her yet and she's already turning me into a fuckin pussy."

"_Wow_." The lack of amusement in her voice was the only reason he jerked his head back towards her. "It's about time you got your head out of your ass, Jax. Sucks for me now, I guess.._y__ou're really good in_ bed...and now I owe Opie fifty bucks."

"Do me a favor and tell _Tara_ the part about the sex," he joked, shaking his head. "She's gonna give me blue balls...on top of the headache I've had ever since O-_Queef _gave me detention with her."

"You wanted to go," Wendy accused. "You're the one that got her in trouble so you knew she'd be there. Any other time your ass don't follow directions."

Jax tilted his head, pointing his hand at her. "You couldn't just give me that_one?"_

Someone coming down the stairs behind them kicked Jax in his side as he walked past. Jax looked up to see Opie staring down at him, grinning.

"Where's Tara, _Rocky_?"

"Why?" Jax answered.

Opie shrugged. "Lowell shit-faced...and believe it or not I don't think he's waking up a virgin tomorrow."

"You're lying," Jax said, chuckling.

"Nope." Opie shook his head. "She's cute, too. I think she's a junior."

"What's that got to do with Tara?"

"She came with him," Opie explained, shrugging. "...and since _you're _with Wendy...Tara's probably on her own and her big ass mouth is always getting her in trouble. _Twice, _today alone. Donna's still on lock down so I figured we could go to that diner that's always open all night. Shoot the shit until it's time to pick Arthur up off the bar floor."

"We should go with them," Wendy suggested. "I don't even need the weed after the laugh you just gave me. Let's go help Ope find _Glinda the good witch _and see if she can make you click your heels."

Opie cocked an eyebrow at Jax. "Do I even want to know?"

"You _really _do," Wendy assured, smirking. "But I seriously doubt he wants you to."

"What—"

"—Wendy can open _her_ big ass mouth to you later," Jax interrupted. "I can't hit _her _but if you laugh at me right now, Wendy's gonna need someone to help her carry _you _and I don't think Jake's volunteering after what I did to his buddy Kyle."_  
_

"You beat Kyle up again?" Wendy asked. "What is that, like the fourth time?"

"Not him."

"Not h—wait, you mean _Kyle Tanner?"_

Jax might have seen_TANNER_ scrawled in block letters across the back of the douche bags jersey but he couldn't be sure. He had other things on his mind at the time—like breaking through his thick ass neck so he could do some damage to his fuckin windpipe.

"I don't know his last name," Jax hissed. "I just know he better hope I never run into him on the street."

"Seriously, Jax, what is it with you and hating football players?" Wendy teased. "Did _he_ hook up with Tara, too?"

"Speaking of," Opie said, backing away, "I'm gonna go find her before she finds _another_ Kyle to provoke."

"She didn't provoke _shit_," Jax growled. "And even if she did _so the fuck what—"_

_"_—I _know, _bro," Opie clarified. "it's _me _you're talking to...but you know that girl thinks her bite is just as good as her bark. And right now LJ is about two shots away from needed a trip to the ER. I'm not betting on him keeping her close...especially when he's _finally_ about to get some."

Opie was always logical...level-headed when Jax's temper wouldn't let him be.

That was a good thing.

He also seemed to care about Tara just as much as he did.

_Almost as much._

That was a good thing, too.

What wasn't good was how much it was starting to get under Jax's skin.

And he didn't care if what he thought he knew about them turned out to be true.

_Christ, maybe I'm more like my crazy ass mother than I think._

Jax nodded stiffly. "She should be out back," he told him gruffly. "..._I_ would have noticed if she left..._or _seen her if she went in the house," he emphasized before quickly adding, "...we'll meet up with you guys in a minute."

Opie nodded, turning to head for the backyard.

"Soooo...you gonna tell me what happened with Tanner?"

"How do you even know him?" Jax challenged.

Wendy shrugged. "He's the reason I don't do relationships," she admitted. "And the look on your face just now when Opie asked you about Tara? _Another perfect example."__  
_

Jax scrunched his eyebrows together. "I'm _nothing _like that asshole! You want to know what he did? What I caught him _trying _to do?"

Wendy sighed. "I'm not saying you act the same, Jax. I'm saying you _think _the same. All of you guys do. You treat females like they're property. Even if _we _chase after you it's not good enough. Showing you we care is like setting ourselves up because the only way you know how to show us you give a shit is by acting like you_own _us. You can never just want to be with us. You have to act a fuckin fool if another guy gives us a second glance...or in your case _thought_. No offense, Jax, but the only reason _you're_ tolerable to me is _because _you're not in love with me. You see me the way Opie sees Tara," she said, before adding, "_welll..._without the sex part anyway."

"How the hell am I _not _supposed to take offense to all the bullshit you just said? And just because I don't hold your hand or cuddle with you after we fuck doesn't mean I don't care about you."

"I know you care about me, _stupid_," Wendy declared. "But you have no _expectations_ of me. And I don't have any of you either so we can't hurt each other. It wouldn't bother you if some other guy offers to walk me to class. Speaking of...how's _Gordon's _bike doing, by the way? I'm surprise you didn't melt it down with your eyes as many times as you glare at him when he's gushing over how cool science is with _Nerd-vana_ whenever we walk past them in the school parking lot. I think I still have a permanent imprint on my left cheek from how hard you squeezed my ass when she caught you staring that one time."

"I think I'm gonna start giving you my _T-M _paycheck so you can order cable," Jax grumbled over Wendy's laughter. "You find my life way too interesting...I swear there's a fuckin camera crew you're not telling me about."

Wendy patted Jax on the shoulder before rising up from the steps. "Don't beat yourself up, Jax. You're the _lesser _of all the evils, baby. And it's not like I'm singling you out either. _ALL _guys are possessive. Opie too._ Especially Opie._ I feel sorry for whatever guy he catches flirting with Donna as pussy whipped as that poor fool is."

Jax chuckled despite himself. "I feel bad for him, too," he agreed, standing up. "Because of _Donna _though, not Opie. Donatella is a real bitch unless you're a sixteen year old that has a thicker beard than somebody's grandfather. _Ask me how I know._"

"No need," Wendy said, lacing her arm inside his as they began walking towards the two teens helping Lowell Jr. across the Hale's front lawn. "Opie already told me about your crash and burn...it's a good thing your ego is almost as big as your head...any other guy might have cried after the way she played _you._"

_Opie's the _real _attention whore._

_And I'm telling Donna he thinks that _Junior_ is cute...as soon as I found out which one he meant._

* * *

When Tara turned her head, lamenting about how, "_the first time always sucks," _Jax had to bite his tongue to keep from blurting out that he'd make sure hers wasn't.

In the two seconds it took for him to realize she'd _obviously_ meant first time drinking, Wendy was already doing what she did best: Saying something to Tara that would get _him _in trouble.

But instead of accusing him of discussing personal shit about her with Wendy, Tara's face was full of genuine concern instead of the initial scowl she wore before Wendy's bullshit apology.

Jax found himself smiling when Tara asked if Wendy was okay instead of flipping out. He didn't even blink when Wendy casually brushed her off, too proud or embarrassed—or both, to get into it with her. Jax wasn't suprised at all.

Surprise came ten seconds later.

Surprise came after his eyes followed the direction Tara was pointing.

He flinched just like everyone standing next to him when the officer's voice pierced the air through the blow horn in his hand. But the police always showed up to crash the party eventually. Any rager worth attending required the authorities to come shut it down.

Badges showing up to kill everyone's underaged buzz wasn't surprising.

Everything about Donna Lewis' sudden appearance was what surprised him.

And given his history with girls, it wasn't all that shocking to see one crying. Girls like Donna were nothing if not melodramatic about everything.

But this was different.

It was different because he knew the steady stream of tears rolling down her face weren't because of something Opie did wrong.

He knew it because there was no way Opie would ever do something that made her look that miserable.

He knew it because Donna wasn't looking at Opie.

Donna was looking at him.

She was staring directly at Jax—blue-green eyes imploring him to forgive her.

For what, he was scared to ask.

He didn't have to when Opie stepped up.

_"What's wrong, baby?_" he asked her.

Jax's blood ran cold when his question had Donna's eyes flitted back to him, her anguished expression making him want to run away, to get lost in the crowd of kids running across the Hale's front lawn trying to escape arrest.

He'd rather do anything but hear her answer.

"...it's your dad, Jax," Donna croaked. _No. It's not, _Jax argued to himself. "JT was riding—"

He didn't even feel the handcuffs as they closed around his wrists.

He couldn't feel anything.

Sound faded around him, little by little until the expansion and contraction of his lungs, his accelerating heartbeat drowned out every and anything—including the sentence he didn't want Donna to finish.

The sentence she never actually _got _to finishing.

Jax's sight in both eyes blurred until everyone around him was nothing but a bunch of dark blotches in his line of vision. He was being turned around, push forward.

His feet moved on autopilot towards the waiting police squad car.

When Tara slid in the back next to him, he didn't even notice.

Jax had a single thought. It was running on a never ending loop, swarming in his brain, making him lightheaded.

_I should have talked to him._

_I should have talked to him._

_I should have FUCKIN talked to him._

Tara was the only one who jumped when the arresting officer behind the wheel slammed on the breaks.

The brunette's eyes widened as they came to a sudden stop just before almost T-boning one of the two Charming P.D trucks that swerved to a stop in the middle of the street from either end of the traffic stop they'd been approaching.

Jax didn't hear the officer up front of scream, "WHAT THE FUCK," either as Wayne Unser and two of his Deputies hopped from the trucks, approaching the car where they sat.

* * *

**Speak your minds gosh dang it! :-)**

** |REVIEW|**


	43. Chapter 40

**A/N: **Took a lot of work and patience to get all the scenes I wanted in this chapter to come together to my liking. Hope it's to your satisfaction even with all the back to back drama.

**FYI:** You won't be seeing these events from Jax's **POV**. Only Tara's.

\- Veritable **Old Lady C**row

* * *

_"...the first game of the season is in two weeks and thanks to these assholes my son'll be riding the fuckin bench!"_

"Sir, you need to calm down," Deputy Katherine Palmer warned.

_"He might not even get to play this season!"_

"We understand you're frustrat—"

"—FUCK YOUR UNDERSTANDING!"

Tara stood in stony silence, watching as Kyle Tanner's father's face went from scarlet red to damn near purple with anger. She might have found it funny if his son didn't look so much like him. This was a man who would probably have no problem overlooking his kid's issues with agression—towards females in particular—just as long as it helped him score big out on the football field.

"This man is out of control," Wayne Unser said, pointing at the enraged football father. "He's just as hotheaded as his kid probably is and you really want to take his word as gospel?"

"As opposed to what?" SJ County Sheriff Gregory Brisco argued, shoving his own finger in Opie Winston's face. "Taking the word of Samcro Junior over here?"

"Talking to you...giving you a chance to hear the _other_ side of this bullshit, teenage drama, that's what you call common courtesy from one police department to another," Unser explained. "If you're not going to—"

"—don't piss on my leg and try to tell me it's raining, Wayne," Gregory interrupted. "The only reason we're having this conversation is because these two are the children of your SOA buddies Piney Winston and John Teller."

"We're having this conversation because this is _my goddamn jurisdiction!"_ Unser snapped, losing his temper. "These kids and every other person in this town are _my _responsibility. I'll stick to Charming business and _you _stick to yours. Take the cuffs off them."

Sheriff Brisco's face twisted up like he'd swallowed a lemon as he turned towards the four of his officers. _"Let them go."__  
_

"This one has charging being pressed against her," one of the officers explained, nodding his head towards Tara.

"I'll take her down to the station—_my station—_and have her processed," Unser interjected. "There'll be no charges on _any_ of the boys until I've finished my investigation. You gotta cut the other two loose."

"I don't _gotta _do shit," Brisco growled.

"Maybe not," Unser hedged. "But we both know it's the smart move."

Tara fought the urge to hum the jeopardy game show theme song as Unser and Brisco glared at each other in silence.

After a very pregnant pause Brisco looked away first, turning to nod an 'okay' to his officers—seconds later, the _zipppp_ of handcuffs being twisted open was the only sound as Opie and Jax were both released._  
_

Tara had only a moment of relief from her own, before Deputy Palmer replaced the handcuffs that were wrapped around Tara's wrist with her own set. Katherine actually looked apologetic when she pulled her arms behind her back again.

"_ARE YOU CRAZY?_" Tanner Senior bellowed, charging towards Unser. Both of his Charming P.D deputies held the belligerent father off, barely able to keep a man his size at bay. "THEY ALMOST KILLED MY KID!"

"Your son doesn't know the meaning of the word NO," Opie barked. "And when he gets arrested for raping somebody's daughter I hope his cellmate makes sure his new position is w_ide reciever_."

If Tara's hands weren't cuffed behind her back she would have high-fived him.

"My deputy here tells me the _Tanner's_ are big supporters of San Juan County law enforcement," Unser accused.

"That's right, sir," Officer Palmer said. The wink she gave Opie was so quick Tara herself almost missed it.

"I suggest you get your _sponsor _out of here before he has to spend a couple nights in lock up," Unser threatened, as two of Brisco's officers joined his own in trying to do just that.

"I'm sure your county _judge _would want to be informed of an assault on his daughter,"Sheriff Brisco sneered. "Seeing as you've got your hands full with all of this _Charming business _I'll be sure to give him a call...let him know CHPD is taking care of it."

"You can do whatever the hell you want, Chief," Unser bit back. "just as long as it's in your side of the lawn."

"Clear out, guys," Brisco instructed his officers. The aggravated sheriff offered one final threat of his own, as he walked off, bumping shoulders with Unser as he passed him. "I _will_ be checking to make sure she's processed."

"Get those cuffs off her," Unser ordered as soon as the final San Juan County police car disappeared down the dark road.

"Thank you," Tara said, shaking her hands to clear the cramps in her wrists.

"Sounds like it's these two young men here you should be thanking," Unser commented, looking over at Opie briefly.

"You need to be careful, Tara," Deputy Palmer advised. "If you're gonna go to parties you have to be smart about it...it's even more dangerous for us girls. You should have—"

"—a buddy system with a friend," Tara finsihed, nodding exasperatingly. "I know."

"Are you gonna press charges on the Tanner kid?" Unser asked.

"If he can get his father not to go after Jax and Opie for defending me..._I won't_," Tara answered.

Tara meant every word but she couldn't help but feel a little guilty. When shit like this went unreported, the guy was more than likely to do it again. And Opie was probably right about what he said but she didn't like the idea of some other girl being less fortunate than her because she didn't speak up.

Choices.

She was still learning how to stick by her own—this one she would learn to live with even if it made her feel bad.

_Jax has enough shit to deal with._

Unser clearly agreed with her completely. "I'll let Tanner know," he stated. "God knows these boys have enough on their plate without being arrested."

"You okay, Jax?" Deputy Palmer's voice was soft when she addressed him, lightly placing her hands on either one of his shoulders as she moved to stand in front of him.

It was easy for everyone else to forget he'd been standing there with them throughout the entire ordeal. Jax hadn't said a word since Donna showed up a sobbing mess in front of him.

Tara couldn't stop watching him—and all the pain she saw in his glazed over eyes pierced straight through her, making her feel as hollow as his blank stare.

She couldn't stop the burning, tingling sensation shooting from her wrists up all the way up her arms when they'd been behind her back. She hadn't realized until the handcuffs were off that's she'd be unconsciously pushing against the sharp metal, as she bit down hard on her lower lip—wishing she could reach for him.

"_Katy,"_ Opie called, causing the young officer to look over at him. "What happened with JT?"_  
_

"He's at St. Thomas," Unser said, answering before she could open her mouth. "One of my deputies can give you a ride up there. I'll drive Ms. Knowles home."

"I can take him," Tara volunteered. "I drove my father's car here."

"You're not even old enough to drive," Deputy Byrd interjected, Katy's partner speaking for the first time since they pulled up.

Tara rolled her eyes. "Half the teenagers in this town aren't old enough to drive. We do it anyway. Arrest me another time...right now—"

"—I'll take him, Wayne," Deputy Katherine stated. "Come on, Jax."

Katherine took two steps towards the driver's side door of her police Sedan before looking back to see that Jax hadn't moved an inch.

He was still staring at the ground, motionless—_E-motionless._

"Jax," Opie called, shaking his shoulder.

No response.

"What are we gonna do here, sir?" Deputy Byrd asked. "Brisco's probably already on the phone with Hale."

"I'm not afraid of that asshole."

"We really gonna let them go off on their own?" Katherine wondered out loud. "Knowing everything that's happened tonight?"

"What do you want to do here, Jax?" Unser asked, gently.

Tara wasn't quite sure if the question even went in _one _ear but if it had, it definitely went straight out of the other. Jax was a statue. It wasn't clear if he'd even blinked the past ten minutes.

"Take Tara home," Unser instructed. "I'll give Jax and Opie a ride to the hospital. _Come on, son._"

Once again Jax gave no response.

Tara shook her head, refusing Unser's marching orders.

Realizing that everyone around her was too busy casting looks of pity at Jax, she walked over to him.

She stopped walking, standing right where Unser's young Deputy Katy had stood only moments before. Initially moving to place her hands on his shoulders, Tara switched gears mid-reach—dropping her hands down, to lace her fingers within his.

_"Jackson." _

At the sound of her voice, Jax's eyes snapped up to hers and the pain she saw in them made her mouth and throat dry, her green eyes moistening.

"Your family needs you... and you need to go be with them," Tara said, softly.

"Your mother's waiting for you at the hospital, son," Unser cut in. "I told her I'd find you."

"Come on," Tara continued, green eyes still locked with blue. "..._I'll go with you."_

His face never changed, but he did offer her a stiff nod, swallowing so hard she heard it.

Tara had her own tears to swallow—so she did the same.

She turned her back to Unser and his two deputies, Opie falling in step with them as Tara and Jax walked hand in hand back up the block, towards the Hale residence.

When they got there Donna, Wendy and Kyle were waiting for them on the sidewalk.

So was her father's Cutlass.

As soon as they came to a stop Wendy tossed Tara the car keys she'd apparently dropped.

_"I told you uncle Quint' would come through,_" Kyle said, patting Donna's shoulder.

Without even a nod in response, Donna walked over to Opie, wrapping her arms around his waist, burying her face into his chest.

Wendy slid aside as Tara moved to open the driver's side of the Cutlass... but she couldn't get in.

Getting in meant letting go of Jax's hand and even the few seconds it would take him to walk over and get in on the passenger side seemed like too much of a risk.

Tara looked over at Wendy. "You drove here?"

Wendy shook her head. "I got a ride with Natalie."

"...Do you know how to get to St. Thomas?"

Even sad, it was still a small smile that spread across Wendy's face as she nodded. Tara handed her the car keys back before pulling the front chair up, easing her way into the back seat. Thankfully, Jax slid in beside her without prompting, never breaking their connection.

Wendy pulled the seat back upright, before sliding in behind the wheel of the car. _"Kyle's got LJ,_" Wendy explained, looking back at Tara through the rear view mirror.

Tara nodded her thanks before slowly, Wendy pulled away from the curb, driving off.

They weren't on the road two minutes before Wendy could see two familiar trucks—Piney's and one from _Teller-Morrow—_in the same lane, two cars behind them.

For Jax and Tara, the friends following behind them went completely unnoticed.

Jax's eyes were absently fixed on the joining of their hands in his lap, while Tara kept staring in his face, waiting—hoping he'd come back from the place where every tormenting thought in his mind had taken him.

* * *

_"You're an idiot, Jacob Hale, you hear me? The biggest _fuckin _idiot I know and you're gonna regret this for the rest of your life! This is _your _responsibility. I shouldn't even be—_deep breaths, _Carlz..._remember what we learned in Lamaze...that's it...keep breathing in and out—_MAYBE YOU'D KNOW WHAT A LAMAZE CLASS _IS _IF YOU PICKED UP THE PHONE TO CALL THE WOMAN HAVING YOUR KID!"_

It was an instant assault on their ears, the second Tara and Jax walked through the front entrance doors of St. Thomas hospital. They were both staring straight ahead at the cluster of leather-clad people on the other side of the large lobby, but through the corner of her eye, Tara glimpsed a familiar head of red hair flitting in and out of her peripheral vision, the squawking woman pacing back and forth in front of an equally familiar pregnant woman rubbing her belly.

Tara watched as Clay Morrow tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

Whatever he said made her look up. The second she glanced in their direction, the forms she'd been filling out on top of her crossed legs went flying as the clipboard fell to the floor. Gemma Teller made a mad dash towards them—towards_ Jax—_meeting them before they could make it all the way to the six rows of chairs—all filled with _S__AMCRO _and miscellaneous family members.

"JACKSON!"

Gemma Teller sure had Karen Monroe beat out for loudest person in the lobby. Jax barely flinched at his mother's voice, his movement almost robotic as he turned his head to lock eyes with her.

"I'm so sorry, baby," Gemma said, moving in towards him. She slipped her arms around his neck, kissing the top of his head. "Everything is going to be okay, Jackson. You're daddy's one tough son of a bitch."

Tara could pinpoint the exact moment Gemma became aware of her presence.

Jax hadn't moved a muscle, his shoulders completely stiff as he stood in her embrace. The biker club matriarch pulled back, her eyebrows knitted together, concern over her sons lack of response clear in her dark, olive eyes.

"Jackson?" Gemma brought a hand up, brushing her fingers along the small cut above his eye, studying the tiny, purpling bruise on his left cheek_—_minor injuries David had caused during their parking lot brawl hours ago. "Who'd you get in a fight with?"

As she asked the question, Gemma knowingly looked down, no doubt to examine the Teller weapon of choice—his hands.

That was when she finally realized that only one of them was available for scrutiny.

The sudden throbbing sensation around Tara's throat was all in her head, she knew it was. Still, she squeezed Jax's hand a little tighter to keep from running when Gemma's death glare finally made its way back up to the face of the girl whose hand her son was clutching.

"What the _hell... _are _you..._doing _here?" _Gemma growled.

"Calm down, Gem," Piney's gruff voice rang out behind the angry woman's back. "She's here for Jax."

"_I'm _here for Jax!" Gemma screamed, the volume of her voice increasing as her self-control plummeted. She spun around, her arm flying out as she circled the finger she was pointing around the cluster of occupied seats around here. "_His family _is here for him! He doesn't need this bitch for _shit!_"_  
_

Tara wasn't there to upset his mother. She just wanted to be there for him.

Not like before, when she couldn't handle it.

She wouldn't walk away when he needed her_—_not again.

Swallowing her pride was for Jax. Tara opened her mouth to try to calmly explain that she wasn't there to antagonize anyone.

"Gem, listen_—"_

Every other word Tara had intended to say was slapped right out her mouth when Gemma's palm collided with her face.

"GEMMA!" Piney bellowed, jumping up from somewhere Tara's eyes were momentarily too blurry to see.

There was an orchestra of chairs sliding against the shiny lobby tiles when multiple people—most of them in leather vests, abruptly stood up.

"_Sit down_," Clay ordered, rising from his own seat.

Clay was too busy nodding his approval at all the patches and Old Ladies that immediately obeyed his command to notice the sour, disapproving expression on Piney Winston's face when everyone fell in line behind the man who _didn't _wear the President's patch.

Everyone had a limit, even Tara.

Especially Tara.

Tara didn't even think.

She reacted.

She drew her arm back, fist snapping forward swiftly. Her right-hook met it's target_—_Gemma's face, before Piney could rush over to where they stood.

"YOU LITTLE GASH!" Gemma screeched, lunging for her.

For the second time, Tara felt Gemma's nails graze the skin of her neck as she wrapped her hands around her throat. But before she could get a good grip, her hands were knocked away. Gemma stumbled backwards, Clay catching her by her shoulders just in time as she tripped over his foot.

When he'd shoved her hands away he hadn't even done it hard.

Jax was barely thawed out enough from the catatonic state he'd been in to use any of brute strength he had. He did find his voice though, finally.

"_Leave her alone." _

His voice held a entirely different kind of authority. Unlike Clay, Jax's quiet command was met by pin-drop silence as everyone around him, including Tara glance back and forth between the mother and son, their eyes wide as cartoon characters.

Tara gaped at him, watching as Jax's vicious glare flitted between both his mother and the tall man standing beside her—daring either Clay or Gemma to decline his request.

Then Jax turned towards her, and at once Tara felt yet another hand on her face, this touch a soft one. He gripped her chin between his fingers as he gingerly angled her face so he could examine the angry hand print slowly welting up on her cheek.

"_Is everything okay?"_

His hand fell from her face as Tara turned around, towards the sound of Opie's voice. Donna and Wendy came to a stop on either side him. Over Wendy's shoulder, Tara could see the disgusted look on Kyle's face as he looked over at Lowell Jr., who had immediately plopped down in a chair, leaning forward, his head practically in his lap. Lowell held one hand to his forehead, the other clutching the curve of his upset stomach.

"No," Gemma snapped. "It's not okay."

There was a loud screech.

It was followed by a crash.

Then a chorus of car alarms going off one after the other.

Every guests and staffer in the lobby turned towards the wall to wall, ceiling to floor windows of the hospital.

Tara wasn't quite sure how she was able to here the _swooosh _of the main lobby's automatic sliding doors over all the other noise, but when she looked over towards the Main Lobby entrance, the heart she didn't think could possibly sink any lower, descended further in her chest.

Lowell Harland Senior swayed left to right, blood dripping from a gash in his head, down his forehead.

Immediately, two nurses ran towards him. He pushed their arms away, nearly losing what little balance he had as he clumsily made his way across the lobby.

_"Sir,_" the nurse in pink urged. "We need to take a look at you—"

"_—_how much have you had to drink tonight?" asked the other one.

Lowell kept swatting their hands away, a look of desperate determination in his bloodshot eyes.

"_Jackson!" _Lowell screamed, slurring his words. _"Jax... I'm s-so s-s-sorry, son...I didn't want...h-h-he was..I was...it di..I'm so sorry, Jackson..."_

"Dad?" Lowell winced, sitting up too fast, he looked up towards the sound of his father's voice.

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" Clay growled. Charging towards him, he gripped the manic man's shoulders. "What good are you to us showing up _high as shit..._your wife _works _here...what is wrong with you, Lowell?"

"_You're _what's wrong with him!" Lowell Jr. blurted.

"LJ," Tara warned, shaking her head. "Don't—"

"—NO! _He _did this...we both heard them...we heard _him_," Lowell Jr. hissed, pointing angrily at Clay.

Clay was too busy looking at Gemma to notice the finger being shoved in his face.

Tara didn't have time to decipher the strange look that passed between them either.

A young woman in blue scrubs was walking in their direction, adjusting the Pink and yellow poka-dotted scrub cap on her head.

"Mrs. Teller?" the young, dark-haired surgeon asked, looking at Gemma.

All eyes were on the doctor as she spoke.

Her voice faded in and out as Tara struggled with listening to the status of John Teller's health, and holding Jax upright.

She felt Opie move to help her hold him up, hold him together between their bodies as Jax's eyes remained glued to the all the scarlet red drenching her clothes_—_she could almost see the walls that were closing in on him as Jax stared blankly at the bloody scrubs Dr. Altman's intern had been either too naive or stupid to change out of before coming out to talk to the family.

_"Dr. Altman was able to stop the hemorraging...not as extensive considering your husband lost a lot of blood, but he also had a large...I promise you m'am, we're doing everything we can...so that's why our biggest challenge will be relieving the pressure... He' still...accidents as severe as his usually result in death upon impact...yes, of course...I'll be headed straight back in to assist, I just wanted to give you guys an update... not out of the woods...it's unpred...we'll know more once he—_if he_ makes it through the surg—"_

"_—_DAD!"

Lowell Jr.'s voice pierced through the clogging in Tara's ears, melting it away.

Everyone followed his movement as he jumped up from his chair.

The human body and all its systems and organs were truly fascinating to Tara.

There wasn't even a trace of intoxication, not even a hint of a hang over in Lowell Jr.'s movements as he dropped to the lobby floor where his dad collapsed. As much as she wanted to, Tara couldn't bring herself to shut her eyes as she watched Lowell Senior's eyes roll towards the back of his head, saliva bubbling at the corners of his mouth as the violent waves of his seizure coursed through him.

The Nurse in pink, who'd been standing beside him, elbowed the distraught teenager out of her way just before the young intern in the bloodstained, blue scrubs, did the same thing to her, all the while yelling orders—sending both nurses scrambling to get the dosages, the assistance, the medical supplies she needed to do her job.

"_Oh My God."__  
_

Wendy took the words right out of Tara's mouth. All she could do was what everyone else was doing.

Stand there, watching as every one with a family's worst nightmare played out in front of them.

"_LOWELL!_!"

Rubber crocs squeaked across the floor as another nurse in pink scrubs came to an abrupt stop, standing behind the team of two nurses, and a surgical intern worked on her husband.

"It's gonna be okay, _Barb," _assured the Nurse in pink, as she looked up the distraught woman.

"He's probably having an adverse reaction," the young surgeon explained as she pressed the stethoscope in her hand to the barely conscious man's chest. "probably something toxic laced in the drugs."

"_Drugs?_" Barbara Lowell's eyes widened.

It looked like disbelief to Tara but she didn't get a good look before her shocked expression morphed into one of rage.

"_You stupid piece of shit!" _Mrs. Harland shrieked. She kicked at the stretcher he was being lifted on to so hard, the drugged man nearly rolled of it. "_In front of your _SON! _How can you do this? How could you put _us _through this?"_

"MOM!"

Lowell Jr. slid in between her mom and the stretcher being rolled away. The body block only seemed to make her more hysterical as she screamed even louder.

_"YOUR SON NEEDS YOU! TEENAGE BOYS NEED THEIR FATHERS BUT YOU'LL DROP DEAD IN SOME ALLEYWAY BEFORE I_ EVER _LET YOU PUT OUR SON THROUGH WHAT _I_ WENT THROUGH!"_

"Barbara, calm down," Piney urged. The woman shook his hand from her shoulder.

"Get off of me!" she shrieked, moving to take off towards the elevator her husband was being loaded into. "I need to talk to my husband. He needs to_—"_

"_HE'S NOT THE ONE THAT NEEDS YOU RIGHT NOW!__!"_Gemma yelled.

Barbara's face snapped towards the other grief-stricken wife in the lobby.

"He's not one that needs you," Gemma repeated, her voice softer. "Look at your son..._look at him!"__  
_

Barbara Harland's eyes flew to young man with angry tears streaming down his face.

"Don't ever take for granted that _he_ needs you the most," Gemma lectured. Her eyes briefly flitted towards Tara before adding, "and don't _ever_ take it for granted when he _knows _that he needs you..."

Tara's eyes finally made their way back to him_—_the teenage boy that needed his mother and didn't know it.

Jax stood just as frozen as he'd been before. When she reached for his hand, even squeezing it didn't work this time.

Tara didn't think hugging him would make a damn bit of difference either. So in that moment, her actions were purely selfish.

_She _needed a hug and there was only one person she wanted one from.

Turning to slide in front of him, Tara wrapped her arms around the frozen fifteen year old's neck. There were a few painful, miserable, uncomfortable seconds of her hugging a statue before Jax finally melted into her, his arms pulling her tight against his chest as they circled her waist.

Tara watched from under his chin as Lowell Jr. walked away from the group, his back facing them as the subtle quake from his crying, rippled through him.

Barbara moved to follow after her son when the blonde standing behind her, placed a hand on her slumping shoulders.

Wendy's eyes somehow found Tara's as she spoke. "Junkie parents are kinda my thing," she explained quietly. "I hope your husband is okay, Mrs. H...I'll go make sure your son is."

Tara could feel a smile just as measured as Wendy's slowly spreading across her face.

Just before Wendy turned to walk away, Tara gave her a small nod, the crown of her head bumping against Jax's chin.

That was when the first tears finally shook loose from her bottom lashes.

* * *

**|REVIEW|**


	44. EXTRASODE: He's My Son

**A/N: **I don't even know how to preface this, so I'm not even going to try. I just felt like the present day story needed a little of this _background_ so I free-style wrote this out of the blue. Please let me know what you guys think.

**EXTRASODE: ** "_**He's my son.**"_

\- **Ver**itable Old **La**dy Cr**ow**

* * *

_"This was your mother's idea, you know," JT whispered, standing beside him, one hand resting on his shoulder._

_Jackson smirked. "Dad, that's the only thing about this that _doesn't_ surprise me."_

_Both Teller men chuckled when Gemma's sudden reappearance was followed by her hip-checking her husband, knocking him out of the way so she could take his place standing next to their son._

_"It's been two years, Jackson," Gemma said, "and there's not a day that goes by that I don't think about what happened…what could have happened. And not to me…to my sons."_

_"They'll be fine, Gem."_

_JT's assurance went unnoticed as Gemma stood in front of her eldest child, locking her olive eyes with his as she continued. "You made your father proud, _so_ proud of you, baby. You fought hard…you saved me…and Tommy. You looked out for your family."_

_"I'll always look out for my family," Jax vowed. The conviction in his statement widened, brightened the smiles on his parents faces._

_Gemma nodded. "It's time you learned how," she said, holding the gun in her hand out to him. "Go ahead…take it. you already know how to hold it."_

_Jackson looked down at the glock in her hand like it was a grenade she'd already pulled the pin on, backing away involuntarily._

_"You don't have to be afraid, baby," Gemma encouraged. "This is what men—"_

_Gemma's speech came to a halt as a chorus of rumbling, vibrating engines rippled through the trees. Through the thin branches the Teller's could make out a familiar pick up truck as it came to a stop, four men in leather kuttes sliding off of the motorcycles immediately parked behind it._

_Piney hopped out the truck, his son trailing right behind him—Opie Winston ducking as Alexander "Tig" Trager tried to rub his knuckles against the crown of the twelve year old's head._

_"You ready, Ladies?" Piney jeered, as the six of them came to a stop in the clearing._

_"Ready for what?" JT asked. He cocked an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing at his lips even as he shook his head at his friend._

_"To see whose kid has the better shot!"_

_"My money's on little Harry here," Tig declared, chuckling as Opie struggled to get out of the grasp he'd finally gotten around his neck._

_"_Junior's_ got this," Happy growled, nodding over at Jackson._

_"You sure about that?" Kozik challenged, bumping shoulders with Happy as he moved to stand next to Opie._

_"Aye," Chibs agreed, winking at the blue-eyed boy still staring at the gun his mother was holding out to him._

_"I'm ready," Opie announced._

_"Here we go." Kozik rubbed his palms together, all of JT's biker brothers grinning collectively as Piney pulled a gun from inside his Kutte, handing it to his son who immediately clicked the safety off—like he'd be taught—gripping the gun with both hands as he took aim._

_Opie squeezed the trigger until he'd used every round—each shot was fired off quick as a hiccup, one following after the other. _

_ "Nice," Tig praised, slapping him on his shoulder. Opie rubbed at the spot with his free hand._

_"Thanks."_

_"Not bad, Kid." Kozik commented. "That's pretty good for your first time."_

_Tig scoffed. "He's a better shot than you are asshole, and you're the one that served."_

_"Shut the fuck up, Tiggy," Kozik sneered._

_"He's right," Happy jeered, chuckling when Kozik glared at him._

_"Alright, Jackie," Chibs said, ignoring his brothers antics. "You're up, Kid."_

_Opie turned to look at his best friend, a challenge in his eyes as he smiled over at him._

_"You'll shoot your eye out!" Opie chanted, his voice every bit as singsong as the chorus of kids in _A Christmas Story_, the one movie they didn't mind watching over and over during Christmas break when Thomas begged._

_Opie's taunting was followed by laughter. _

_"Show 'em how it's done, Jackson," Gemma urged, holding the gun out to him again._

_This time Jackson took it from her hand—immediately dropping his own to his side, the barrel of the gun pointing towards the dirt as he and everyone else watched the revolver dangle lamely in his grasp._

_"Jackson." _

_Looking back up at her, Jackson found little comfort in how hard his mother was trying to mask her look of disappointment with concern, with patience and understanding._

_That was her job—to be understanding, to love and support him even when he let her down like he was now._

_This felt wrong._

_Or maybe it didn't. _

_All he knew was something was holding him back and he couldn't get a handle on what it was—on how to push through it, how to garner the nerve to do what his best friend had done._

_Something was missing._

* * *

_"_I'll always regret the day my life choices put you in harm's way_," JT whispered. Blue eyes still facing the ground, Jax almost flinched at the hushed voice in his ear, the sudden proximity._

_He couldn't pinpoint where or when his mother moved away._

_He couldn't tell if his father's outlaw brothers were still there._

_Or if Opie was still grinning cockily at him…or giving him that pensive expression that always made him look so much like Piney._

_He didn't care either._

_Jackson hung on to his father's voice, the only thing that mattered to him in that moment._

_"I need to make some changes...And there's no easy fix for all the obstacles, all the problems I need to resolve so that what happened never happens again…I will make it happen, I promise you that, Jax….but I can't focus out there without knowing that I've done everything in my power to make sure my family is safe….this might have been her idea but your mother's right, Jackson."_

_Jackson looked up at his father finally. "Is someone coming for us again?"_

_"I'll never let that happen," JT answered, sharply._

_Jackson shook his head, holding the gun out in front of them. "Then why do I need this?"_

_JT's answering smile wasn't the least bit condescending. _

_Instead, pride seemed to emit from the pearly whites of his teeth. "You remember when I first brought you to Lumpy's? It was like pulling teeth to get you to go. You wanted to stay home and play video games with Opie and Thomas…but I dragged you into that ring every Saturday. You remember what I told you?"_

_Jackson nodded. "_Fighting is a skill every man should have but endeavor never to use._"_

_"This is the same thing, Jackson," JT explained, looking down at the gun in his son's hand. "I know you think it's bad…and in the wrong hands for the wrong reasons it is….but protecting the people you love is never wrong, son. Don't let the name fool you. The Sons of Anarchy is a brotherhood, a family. We may have lost our way but we're not thugs.. We always do whatever we have to do to provide and look out for each other._ That's what family is._" Jackson's answering nod wasn't quite as stiff this time. "...I promise you, Jackson...every time my finger is on the trigger all I'm thinking about is my family…protecting the one I was given and the one I chose when I first put this Kutte on my back."_

_"Think about the asshole that broke into our home," his mother demanded, interrupting suddenly. When Gemma's voice rang,this time the twelve year old did flinch. His head snapped towards her, blue eyes drinking in all the fierceness in the olive green. "When you raise that gun think about the man who came after me…who could have hurt your little brother. Think about anyone who would _ever_ try to hurt us."_

_At the mere suggestion, Jackson felt his hand move of its volition—clicking the gun in place, flicking the safety off. The proud smile spreading across his mother's face blurred as he turned, facing forward._

_Twelve year old Jackson Teller raised the gun in his hand. His nostrils flared, and the sudden narrowing of his blue eyes wasn't because he was squinting._

_Glass shattered._

_Plastic and aluminum crackled and popped._

_His wrists twisted, snapping back—and he kept shooting until the gun was empty._

_Jackson dropped his hands, his whole body too wired for him to notice the slight pain shooting through his right wrist._

_"_My baby boy._"_

_Whoops and hollers followed Gemma Teller's statement. Someone in the clearing wolf-whistled. _

_"Damn, bro," Jackson heard Opie say from somewhere behind him._

_He'd finally noticed the shaking his hands. Jackson was hyperaware of every tremor as he held them both out in front of him, looking down._

_Then he felt her manicured nails graze his chin as she lifted his face up. _

_"You did good, baby," Gemma praised._

_"_Good?"_ Chibs echoed, scoffing. "Shiitteee….for his first time? You _nailed it_, Jackie."_

_"He's a better shot than all of you bitches," Kozik joked._

_"Not me," Happy grunted._

_"Dude…it was a joke."_

_"You_ are _a fuckin joke, Kozy," Tig snarked._

"That was bad ass, brother."

_Jackson turned his head, blue eyes searching until they found who he was looking for._

_Opie Winston's awed expression faltered, morphing into measured concern the second their eyes met._

_He'd figured it out._

_Why it felt wrong._

_And the one thing that would always make it feel right._

_Jackson knew exactly what had been missing._

_Rage._

_Memories of what happened, vivid mental images as his imagination went into overdrive with the worst case scenarios of what could have happened flooded his brain until the horror show playing on a never ending loop repressed all of the fear that had made him hesitant._

_Protecting your family—he could never find any fault in that._

_But the way it felt, firing the gun in his hand? _

_It had to be bad that pulling the trigger felt good—it had to be wrong that every shot was another dose of calm, a soothing balm on his temper, all the anger threatening to boil his blood._

_"Don't let this get to your head, Kid," Piney grunted, "but you're a helluva shot for someone who's never aimed a gun in his life."_

_"What did you expect?" Gemma boasted, rubbing his shoulder. "He's—"_

_Jackson looked past his mother's smiling face, the confliction that shone in his eyes landed on his father's impassive expression._

_He couldn't telll what he was feeling._

_"_—_He's _my_ son," JT said, finishing his wife's statement._

_Was it pride? _

_Was it fear?_

_Only John Teller knew that for sure because the t__one of his voice was just as undecipherable as the look in his eyes._

* * *

**|CH41| is posted as well...Hit [next] &amp;&amp; Enjoy.**


	45. Chapter 41

**A/N: **The night of the accident, continuing in Tara's **POV**. Fingers crossed, the lounge scenes read true to a teenage Jackson Teller and Tara Knowles.

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

When she came back he was awake.

Tara stood in the doorway briefly, watching him. Jax's eyes were fixed on the ugly, pea-green wall on the opposite end of Dr. Altman's private office.

She'd been here, where he was before.

And she didn't telepathy to know the reason his normally twinkling blue eyes had lost their luster. Looking at him now made her miss the cocky smile he usually wore. She'd even welcome his scowl over the dejected look marring his handsome features. When his face finally snapped towards her, she caught the way his mouth almost turned up at the corners.

Tara didn't want almost.

"How long was I out?" he asked as she stepped inside, the office door clicking shut behind her.

"About an hour or so," she answered, walking over towards the couch he'd been lounging on. Immediately, he sat upright to make room for her. "Donna and Opie just left...Wendy came up a little while after you dozed off. He's giving her a ride home. Then he's taking Donna back to the Hale's to get her car."

Sitting down beside him, Tara handed him the steaming cup in her hand, and a small square container with a freshly baked cinnamon bun inside of it.

"Thanks," Jax said. He tried for a smile again. It was another failure, the tiny curve of his lips flattening into straight line before it could reach his eyes. "Did Wendy say how Lowell was doing?"

"When she left him, Junior's mom was hooking him up to a IV," Tara answered, shrugging. "I don't think me and Ope did him any favors with the Tequila shots."

Jax looked down at the hot beverage and snack in his hands. "What about _Senior_?"

"He's gonna be okay." Jax looked up at her. "I stopped by the desk and got his room number before I went down to the cafeteria. I ran into Mrs. Harland down there...ran into your mother, too actually. Me and Mrs. Harland were headed up to Senior and Gemma and Clay were coming out of his room."

Jax sat both things in his hand down on the coffee table in front of them, narrowing his eyes. "She bother you again?"

Tara shook her head. "_Nope_. And I wasn't waiting around for her to change her mind either. I told Mrs. Harland I'd visit later." Jax nodded, finally picking up his hot chocolate to take a sip. "You should have seen her earlier though when she didn't know where you went. For a second I thought they might have to sedate her."

"That must have been fun for the nurses," Jax commented, dryly.

"Piney must have forgot to tell her that your dad's doctor let us wait up here. Or maybe he _didn't _forget. Either way, I was just about to turn the corner when I heard her yelling at the head of hospital security. She was all _Jackson Nathaniel Teller! He has blue eyes, blonde hair and he would have _never _left this hospital without telling me. If you can't tell me where he is I'm gonna start kicking in every fuckin door!"_

It was a flash.

The Jackson Teller smile—the smile that warmed her up in the all the right ways. It was gone so quick she nearly missed it.

She needed it.

She needed to him smile like he needed a reason to.

"Jackson _Nathaniel _Teller," Tara mused, grinning over at him. "That's a royal name if I ever heard one...and you wonder why everybody calls you Prince Charming."

Jax rolled his eyes, lifting the hot chocolate to his lips to take another sip. But the styrofoam cup couldn't hide the way his mouth twitched a little at the corners.

She was so close...

"_All hail Jackson Nathaniel Teller of Charming Kingdom, the first of his name!" _Tara chanted in the worse British accent imaginable. "_Prince of Bikers and all the fancy lay-ee's who eat crow!"_

Hot chocolate sprayed from his mouth.

_Jackpot._

No matter how hoarse, how strained it was, his laughter was a welcome sound, music to her ears after all the heavy silence that made her chest feel like someone was standing on top of it.

And he was smiling.

He was smiling at her.

It made her feel giddy and it wasn't long before she was laughing at herself with him.

Both laughing teenagers looked towards the door when it opened to see Dr. Altman stepping into the office. The second their eyes landed on the surgeon the only sound in the room was steady click clack of her heels as she walked around her desk.

Here was a seasoned doctor—Cassandra Altman knew better than to approach a family member of her patient wearing scrubs drenched in his blood. But as she bent down, slipping a manila folder inside a slot in one of the file cabinets behind her desk, the forlorn expression on her face when she finally looked over at Jax had a similar effect.

"He's dead isn't he?"

Tara didn't know how the doctor didn't miss it. She was sitting right next to him and Jax had spoken so low_she'd _barely heard his question.

"No, Jackson, he's not dead..." _Yet._

Jax heard it, too if what little color he had draining from his cheeks was any indication.

"But he's _going_ to die."

"You were there when I updated your mother, Jax," the doctor said softly. "I can't tell you anymore now than what I've already explained."

"I'm not asking for an explanation." Jax's voice was flat, monotone. "It's a yes or no question."

Dr. Altman shook her head. "I don't have a yes or no answer for you, sweetheart..._God..._this is the part I always hate," she admitted, sighing. "It's even worse when theirs kids involved...not wanting to get your hopes up, but not wanting you to lose hope either. There really is no way of knowing or I would tell you. I can never forget the look on your face when...I wouldn't keep you in the dark. I'd _never _let...listen... it's too soon. He survived the operation...if he makes it through the night we'll know more in the morning." The doctor looked down at her lab coat as she smoothed it down with her palms. "I still have a few more patients to check in on...but I'll be staying, on-call so I can be here in case anything happens..._if _anything happens." Tara looked over at Altman, green eyes pleading before the woman added, "I heard about what happened in the lobby...and your Godfather..._Piney? _He seems to think you need a little space from your...he thinks you need some time...a minute to clear your head...You two can stay in here, okay? I won't tell h—you can stay in here a while. If you leave before I'm back, turn the lock on your way out. Fair enough?"

Tara nodded her thanks at Dr. Cassandra Altman before watching her strut out of the office, the soft click of the shutting door the only sound in the room.

"She's really nice," Tara commented.

"Altman's younger sister teaches kindergarten at the school down the block from my house."

"You know her sister?" Tara's eyebrows bunched together.

Jax nodded, his eyes glued to the floor. "Thomas was in her class...she always loved Tommy...whenever I went with Gemma to pick him up she used to joke about taking him home with her."

Tara slid over, a little close to him on the couch. "Small town."

Jax nodded again, the tiny movement shaking loose some of the tears pooling in his eyes. "His teacher even got her _big sister _to take the case when Tommy got sick again...that last time before he never got better...before he died."

"I'm sorry, Jax," Tara said, meaning it with all her being, "I really wish I could kiss _this_ better but I can't."

A sad smile spread across his face. "You see that picture over there?"

Tara's eyes reluctantly left his face to look around the room, stopping when her eyes landed on the framed painting in question. As soon as she saw it, she swallowed hard against the lump forming in her throat. She knew at once why he'd been staring at the wall on the opposite end of the room when she stood in the door watching.

A watercolor painting—the white paper crinkled slightly, colors bleeding into each other. Splotchy and abstract as it may have appeared at first glance, there was no mistaking the image.

A bike—black with red handlebars and blue tires.

It was a masterpiece—an absolute work of art for a six year old.

"_Oh, Jax._"

"JT didn't want him to feel left out," Jax explained. The smile on his face looked like it hurt, like maintaining the curve of his mouth was painful. "He told him he could make a special design for his bike, too...Tommy had this bright idea. He'd design _my_ bike for me and then when he was big enough for his I could draw what his would look like..."

"Looks like he should have probably designed his own, too," Tara said. "He's a way better artist than you."

She wasn't surprised, but it still hurt like Hell when her joke fell flat.

He didn't even look up from the floor.

"...I don't know if he...well my mom must have left it here when she...when we left." Abruptly, Jax looked up at her, his smile widened and all the pain in the ocean-blue eyes that the smile couldn't quite reach increased tenfold. "I think you're right about my charm, Tara...thing is...it runs in the family. It only took two weeks for the Teller charm to reel her in. My baby brother had Altman and every other doctor wrapped around his little finger...she would have done anything to help him, anything to fix what was wrong."

"Of course they did, Jax," Tara assured. "Of course _she _did. And your father—"

"—if you let my mom tell it, they didn't try hard enough...they _didn't_ do everything they could because only a mother is selfless enough to give until she had nothing else to... _I believed her. _Gemma needed something other than the heart condition she passed on to her son to blame for losing him. And I needed to feel like I wasn't alive instead of dead like him because I was the lucky son...I believed what she said, Tara. Every angry, grieving word and I've hated hospitals ever since. I've hated _his doctor_ ever since...but why would she keep that, Tara? If she really didn't give a shit, if Tommy was just another patient in another chart on her desk why would she keep his picture?"

"Because she wanted something to remember him by."

"Because she _cares, _Tara," Jax amended. "But Thomas is still _dead, _Tara...they did everything they could..._she _did everything she could and it wasn't enough... And now JT... ..._Jesus, Tara_. It's like deja vu being here. The _worse_ fuckin kind."

Tara slid over, closing the gap between them completely, softly placing a hand on top of his. Her other hand nudged his shoulder lightly. He answered by angling his body towards her, and she immediately wrapped her arm around his neck, squeezing her eyes shut as his chin rested on her shoulder. He was wound so tight she could feel it in their embrace.

Tara's heart was breaking all over again.

She couldn't stop the memories, she couldn't overlook her own deja vu moment.

Tara Knowles had her own _Doctor's Lounge. _Her own tragic history with St. Thomas hospital. But unlike Jax she had a genuine reason to hate it here, to be mistrustful. And she didn't have anyone to hold her hand and tell her everything was okay whether there was a guarantee that it would be or not.

Jackson didn't deserve this shit—yet here they were.

Tara knew that the power to fix it was out of her hands but there was something she could control. She wouldn't abandon him this time, no matter what. She was stronger now, she knew better. Over three years was a lot of years wiser. She'd stay as long as long as he wanted her, as long as he _needed _her and nothing or no one could stop her.

She was here.

She just needed to figure out what she could do to help him.

Tara pulled back slightly. Blue eyes immediately flew up to meet with green and she knew the answer without even asking the question.

It was simple. _Just don't go anywhere._

Leaning in, Tara kissed him on his forehead and Jax shut his eyes. She lightly brushed her lips over his eyelids. One. And then the other. She kissed the tip of his nose and his eyes flew open, his chin jutted up. He brought a hand up to her face, caressing her cheek with the pad of his thumb. It was only then that Tara realized her own face was wet with tears.

Slowly, he leaned into her, so close he could smell the vanilla honey scent of her shampoo as he lightly pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was gentle at first—soft, almost hesitant.

Then he coaxed her mouth open wider, his tongue plunged a little deeper, and she felt his hand sliding under her shirt, massaging her bare breasts. Tara gasped when he lightly pinched her hardened nipple. The sharp intake of breath seemed to be a trigger that had that same hand sliding down to her waist, pulling her towards him, into his lap.

The memory was a wave crashing down over her, filling her lungs until she found herself doing the very thing she didn't want to do—puling away from him.

It was deja vu all over again.

It was the night before Sarah's overdose.

There was a reason she couldn't name Opie a single time Jax had ever tried to hurt her before the fundraiser. It was because he never did.

Jackson never _tried _to hurt her.

But three years ago, he did. He did it just like _this. _

She wasn't running this time. Tara was standing her ground, but that didn't mean she shouldn't set him straight. No matter how badly Jax was hurting she wouldn't be _that _for him. She said no back then, and the answer was still No.

"_Tara."_ But the anguish in his voice was yet another crack in the armor keeping her resolve in tact. "JT is dying and I right now I feel like I'm dying with him..._I fuckin hate this, _I can't—_if he doesn't_ —I don't know ho—" Jax's hoarse words choked off as the sob he'd been forcing down fought it's way back up. His grip was nearly bruising as he reached for her face, pulling her lips back to his. All the passion, the hunger, thedesperation in his kiss drew out a moan from Tara's throat, one that nearly drowned out the whimper that escaped his.

Nearly, but not completely.

She'd heard it, the tortured sound giving her the strength she needed to pull back, to once again put an end to this, to remember that this wasn't right—not right now, not like _this._

Jumping up from the couch, she stood in front of Jax, looking down at him, drinking in the haunted look in his eyes.

_I HATE THIS SO FUCKIN MUCH._

"I'm right here, Jax. I'm not going_ anywhere_," Tara promised, shaking her head. "But that's not what you need...I know you think it'll help but it won't, Jax."

_"Please, Tara?" _Jax begged. His blue eyes were glassy, red rimmed his bottom lashes from the tears he fought against, from the tiny droplets that managed their escape, trailing down the bridge of his nose. He reached for her, pulling her close, his fingers wrapped around her forearms. "I don't want to feel like this," he croaked. Slowly, his hands found their way back to her waist, pulling her in as he leaned forward, kissing her stomach. "You're the only thing that always feels good_..._.I _need _you."

"I'm right here," she whispered, reaching to caress his face. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand from his face to kiss her palm. His arms were circling her waist again, pulling her to him. And Tara found herself folding like a house of cards, her knees on either side of his hips as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Tara wanted to go further than they'd ever gone before. She wanted to give into him, give into _them. _

But it wasn't about her_—_what she wanted didn't matter.

Right now, what Jax needed were heartfelt words to lift his spirits. She needed to do what neither her father or anyone else ever did for her. She needed to tell him truth and make him believe it.

And the truth was, he would get through this. No matter what happened he would get through it, and she would be there for him through all of it.

"Everything is going to be okay, Jax," Tara said, running her hands through his unruly blonde hair. "Look at me," she demanded. When Jax complied, the glazed over look in his eyes, the pain swirling in the blue nearly took away the breath she needed to finish her statement, her testament to him. "You're the strongest person I know...and your strength comes from the man that's fighting to live for his son...JT's fighting hard, I know he is. It's gonna be fine. You'll be fine, Jackson, no matter what," Tara urged, pulling a hand from his hair to hold a single finger in front of him as she forced a well-meaning giggle up her throat. Laughing to keep from crying wasn't working, but the smile she forced on her face held up as she said something she hadn't said since she was five years old, scuffing her knees up in the sandbox with Sarah. "_Pinky promise._"

Jax completely lost it.

Tara was drowning in a sea of anguish, a storm of pain wracking through her, chilling the marrow in her bones, attacking the faint heart pumping blood throughout her body. She didn't know which words to regret saying as the fifteen year old boy underneath her came undone, gut wrenching sobs ricocheting between their bodies as she immediately pulled his head into her chest, squeezing her eyes against the burning tears pouring down her own face.

Why did this keep happening?

Children needed their parents.

Jax needed his father the way Tara still needed her mother.

JT was going to survive this.

He had to.

And there was no way God could be this fuckin cruel.

* * *

There was no way to tell how long they sat there like that, Tara in his lap, his head resting against her chest, wrapped up in each others arms.

It could have been minutes, hours, days, even weeks. Time didn't compute, nothing around them mattered. They were technicolor in a black and white world until their best friend arrived.

Tara heard the door when it was pushed open. Jax didn't move an inch, and she didn't want him to—_she_ didn't want to.

And so neither one of them did.

Not until a light tapping against the wall sounded from the office entrance.

Reluctantly, Tara lifted her head up, her chin vacating the comfort of leaning against the top of Jax's head. "I thought you were going home?"

"I _did_," Opie answered. "I couldn't sleep...felt like I needed to be here...and I thought _you_ might want to head home and get some sleep. I got the next shift, and you can get some rest before your actual shift. You work tomorrow right?"

"Yeah." Tara groaned and Jax finally sat up, his hands sliding down from the middle of her back, to her hips.

Opie nodded towards his best friend, who was finally looking over at him. "_I got this, Tara._ Go ahead...I think you have a visitor anyway. When I got home I saw someone helping your father into the house. And when I left, her car was still there."

_Great. _

_Bringing barfly bitches home to steal our shit when we're sleeping again._

"Okay, thanks," she said. When she stood up, climbing off of him Jax rose to stand right in front of her. "I'll come back tomorrow as soon as I can," she promised him.

Jax didn't give a verbal response.

Instead he kissed her.

And just like Tara had, he started with her forehead. She shut her eyes against the caress of her cheek, the hand gently holding her waist, and he quickly swept his lips across each eyelid. The tip of that _cute little nose of hers _was next. His breath was hot on her skin as he repeated the act, this time nipping at it a little. Tara's eyes fluttered open.

Opie may as well have not been standing there. All they saw were the blues and greens of each other's eyes, until she finally, slowly, lingeringly pressed her mouth to his again, stealing one last kiss before she half-whispered, "_Good night, Jax.:_

She patted Opie's shoulder, kissing him on his cheek as she walked past him, through the door.

"_I don't care how hard you cry, bro" _she overheard Opie say before the door closed behind her, "I am _not_ sitting in your lap."

Jax's answering chuckle, and the barely decipherable, _"Dickhead,_" he tossed back at Opie was just what Tara needed to relieve the feeling of dread that was making it hard to leave.

Opie was there.

Jax needed Opie, too.

_You got this, bro, _she thought, smiling to herself as she headed down the dimly lit corridor.

Jax's still had a brother that was alive and well.

Opie was still there.

He had this.

* * *

Two minutes.

That was all the patience Tara had, waiting for the elevator to make it's appearance. She was only five floors up. There was no harm in taking the stairs unless she wanted to give Jax an entirely different reason to call her _Babe._

Besides she had a sneaky suspicion that she would only continually press the wrong button, somehow always ending right back on the floor she was leaving. Gathering the strength to leave was a very labored effort on her part. Using the staircase held better odds that she would keep going.

Walking past the metal doors, Tara absently stopped in front of the circulation desk looking from left to right for a sign indicating the staircase she needed.

"Keep going straight, then turn left," said a female voice. "It's right on the corner."

Tara's eyes snapped over to to beautiful, slightly graying woman typing away on the keyboard in front of her.

Tara's eyes floated down to the key card hanging from her neck. "_I'm sorry?_"

_Patricia Newark, RN _looked up from the computer screen, brown eyes peering up at Tara over the glasses sliding down her nose. "You're looking for the chapel, right?"

_No._

_I was actually..._

Tara remembered the Chapel.

She'd spent a lot of time in there when her mother got sick.

When she could no longer leave the hospital.

She said a prayer for her every day, begged God to make her better, begged him not to take her away because she needed her mom and her dad was acting strange, and she didn't want to shed another tear.

In the end God had other plans and so did her mom.

Praying didn't help her at all.

And yet she couldn't fight the urge to say a prayer for John Teller.

Maybe God would deliver this time, maybe he'd give JT the strength to fight his injuries, give him the will to survive—to stick around for his firstborn.

"Yes, I was," Tara lied. Smiling appreciatively, she added a quick, "Thank you," before following the insightful, observant woman's directions.

* * *

Tara pushed the revolving doors open lightly, angling to walk in without disturbing anyone who might be inside, seeking the guidance, the counsel, the peace of mind she herself had come for.

The chapel was dark, save for the pyramid-like cluster of red, artificial candles, glowing behind, above, and along the altar in the front.

Tara had only taken two steps inside before she realized she indeed wasn't alone.

The two people standing in the back corner didn't make the same connection.

"You've gotta calm the hell down!" he whispered fiercely.

The woman barely standing upright as he gripped the tops of her arms did the exact opposite.

_"Did you not see his face? I can't handle this shit, Clay. _Jackson _can't handle_—"

Clay shook her by her shoulders, the action stalling her sentence. "—you can't fix it, Gem. There's no going—"

"_Don't tell me what I can't fix!_ He pulled through the surgery. She didn't want his hopes up...but there's a chance, Clay...Doc thinks he might make it...Jax can't go through this again. He won't even talk to me. He's too busy hanging on to that _girl_...that gash is getting between me and my son. This is gonna take him somewhere he might not ever come back from. You want to know what I _can't_ do? I can't handle that. I can't lose another son."

_You won't lose him,_ Tara thought to herself._ Not if you focus on him and what he needs instead of what _you _don't want._

_Or who you don't like._

"I know, baby...but it's gonna be alright." Clay's voice was practically a coo, making the term of endearment he used towards his best friend's wife that much more confusing.

"He needs him more than me," Gemma croaked. "If he dies...it's gonna kill my _son..._God, how the Hell did I not—"

"Listen to me very care—"

Gemma shook her head so hard, Tara's teeth were chattering. "—No you listen to me, Clay," she whispered, fiercely, pointing her finger into his chest. "No more, you hear me? Whatever happens...no more."

"Gemma—"

"—_I said no more!_" the matriarch screeched.

Clay hung his head a little before looking up to nod once at her. He brushed his fingers across her cheekly softly, pulled her into him even closer and Tara was hit with yet another wave of confusion.

"No more, Gem," Clay agreed. "_I promise._"

Tara's confusion segued into to full on, gasp-inducing shock when Clay wrapped his arms around Gemma's waist, leaning down to kiss her. The intake of breath was almost reflexive, an automatic response that couldn't be stopped had her mind even been focused enough to try. Tara's sharp inhale crackled in the air, and the couple in the corner broke apart.

Tara was already turning on her heel before Clay could turn to look back at her.

But it was Gemma's eyes that found hers before she could move. Shock was the first emotion to register in the woman's face. It lasted only nearly a second before surprise gave way to the deadliest glare the young brunette had ever been scrutinized under.

The heat in Gemma's stare lit a fire under the soles of her feet.

Tara shoved the double doors open, leaving them flapping a breeze behind her as she ran towards the elevator, dipping inside of it just as the nurse already inside moved to press the doors closed.

Her track star days weren't over after all.

The second the doors slide open, Tara took off, running like a bat out of Hell through the main lobby, the panic jamming her brain, overriding the voice yelling "_Tara!_" behind her even as she continued through the parking lot.

She didn't stop running until she was keeled over, the coolness of the Cutlass' hood a welcome chill against her dampening forehead.

"Did everyone else miss the fire alarm or something?"

Tara stood upright, swiping the end of her half-sleeve across her face as stared at the hospital entrance behind Lowell Jr like she'd just escape solitary confinement at a high security correctional facility.

"Where's your mom, LJ?" Tara asked, ignoring the question behind the question he'd asked.

Lowell Jr. looked down at the patch of asphalt between them. "My mom is staying overnight with dad...she wants to be here in case the cops try to charge him, you know...for drugs or something."

"You want a ride home...or somewhere else? A friends, maybe?"

Lowell looked up at her, worry crinkling his eyes at the corners. "You think JT's gonna make it?"

"I don't know, LJ," she admitted.

"Right." Her eyes were glued to the spot on the ground his had vacated. She could see him shuffling a feet a bit before asking, "Are_you _okay?"

Tara looked up at him, a smile that still couldn't quite reach her eyes spreading across her mouth. She shook her head. "I don't know that either."

Lowell nodded. "Me, too."

Tara squeezed his shoulder lightly, kissing him on the cheek before opening the driver's side door. _"C__ome on..._I'll give you a ride."

* * *

**|REVIEW| **


	46. Chapter 42

**A/N: **For those of you who may be missing Jax's side of things, I think it'll be safe to be back in his head space for a while so **|CH43|** will be in Jax's **POV**.

**FYI: **Can you believe these 42 Chapters (not including extrasodes) have only been a weeks worth of events? The story started on **SUNDAY** &amp; this chapter is the following** SUNDAY.**

\- **Veritable** Old **Lady** Crow

* * *

Lowell fell asleep against the window before Tara finally found an exit she could drive out of the St. Thomas parking lot through.

The quiet gave Tara time to think—too much time.

Watching Opie beat that pervy councilman Rick Vidal to a bloody pulp without giving shit who witnessed it atsist all.

Getting choked out in the middle of a fundraiser by the town's infamous biker club Matriarch.

Losing her nerve, her confidence before she could coax Jax into hot, angry sex in the girls locker room.

Breaking up with her first boyfriend.

Having to witness the boy she wanted more than she _needed _oxygen fuck some pop tart just because he caught her in a lie.

Clay threatening Lowell Senior (about what she was scared to guess).

Flirting and grooving her way through her first high school party—the first of any party in three years.

A dangerous close encounter with a football jock who was used to always having his way.

Jax coming to her rescue, and Opie proving yet again that he was someone she could always turn to.

Her own private ministrations behind her closed bedroom door never made her knees shake, yet everything Jax did to her on top of that bathroom sink had made her legs wobbly when she moved to stand.

JT's accident.

Getting arrested, almost charged—all three of them.

Punching Gemma in the face.

Watching Lowell's dad collapse, the Harland family's grief as old habits brought a familiar pain back tenfold.

Finally finding a common ground with Jax's friend, an understanding between her and the blonde that loved to pluck her nerves.

Jax opening up to her completely—the right way. No angry words, no lashing out, no taunting her, no hurting her because it made it easy to ignore his own pain.

Gemma Teller and Clay—being caught in the act, uncovering a secret that would hurt the boy who was already hurting.

Tara was so wrapped up in her own head, so busy going over the days events, the one domino falling into another to notice that she'd slid the car to a stop in her driveway—with Lowell still in the car.

She was supposed to be taking to him home, like he'd ask.

_Damn it._

Tara was too tired, too drained to take another trip. She could give Lowell a ride later on in the morning, or even before she went in for work if he needed until the afternoon to bounce back from the headache that generally came with the morning after doing shots of Tequila.

Tara got out of the car, opting to check that her father and his whore were out of the way before he snuck LJ inside.

When she rounded the front of back of the car, a familiar set of eyes peered over at her from behind the smoke cloud in front of the woman's face.

Tara stepped closer, drooping eyelids suddenly widening. "_Di?_"

Diane Knowles smiled up at her niece. "Hey, _Gracie,_" the young woman said, standing up to hug the teenager barreling into her open arms.

"I haven't seen you in forever!"

"How's my favorite _niece_?" Diane asked, sitting back down on the steps.

Tara rolled her eyes, plopping down next to her. "I'm your_ only_ niece."

_And it's not like you've ever treated me like one_, Tara thought to herself.

Diane Knowles was her father's baby sister, the girl whose make up her and Sarah used to 'borrow' to play dress up.

She was always less _auntie_ and more _big sister_.

"In that case, I better put this out," she mused, taking a puff of the cigarette in her hand. "I can't be putting your health at risk."

"You won't be doing any worse than my old man," Tara argued. "Go ahead. I don't mind."

Denise narrowed her eyes. "You smoke, too?"

Tara shook her head. "No, _m'am_," she mocked.

"_Good girl._" Diane winked, playing along in the role of responsible adult figure.

Tara's laughter was an orchestra of nerves. "You better hold that thought, Di. I'm about to sneak a hung over boy through my bedroom window."

"Boyfriend can't hang?"

"_Not_ my boyfriend," Tara answered, her chin jutting left to right. "Just a friend."

"A friend who wants to be more than your friend I'm betting."

Tara scoffed. "_Lowell?_ Please. We've never looked at each other that way."

"Maybe _you_ haven't looked at _him_ that way," Diane said. "but unless I need a thicker prescription for these contacts I'm wearing...don't get me wrong, Grace. You were the prettiest little girl but now you're _hot. _All curves and long legs...smart enough to know wearing a bra is stupid when your tits are that perky."

"_Diane__!"_

Diane chuckled as she moved to stub the butt of her cigarette out. "I bet you have this Lowell kid and every other guy chasing after you. Even those two best friends of yours are probably fighting for your attention."

"You mean Jax and Opie?" Tara guessed, already wrinkling her nose up at the prospect of Opie being attracted to her.

Jax was an entirely different story.

All the butterflies in her belly that had been put to rest by all the awful shit that had happened—including what she saw in that chapel—sprung to new life, tickling its way up throughout her chest.

"That Jackson kid for sure," Diane replied. "But I was actually talking about him and your other best friend. The girl you always use to run around with. She always seemed a little obsessed with you."

Tara laughed. "_Trust me, _Di. There's nothing remotely gay about Sarah."

_You can ask half the guys in the state of California._

"If you say so, chickadee." Diane shrugged, her smile taunting. "What about Jackson? How is the little heart breaker? I guess he's not so little anymore...You two still dancing around each other?"

"Oh God, not _you, _too," Tara groaned, making her aunt laugh.

"I'm going to take that...as a _maybe_?"

Tara stuck her tongue out at her before saying, "I can tell you what's _still _happening...Your _niece_ is still the hardworking overachiever she was when she helped _you_ study for your AP psychology final. I have a part time job now, my whole _poor drunk daughter's _reputation got me a free pass on some college courses, and it looks like _you _won't be the only one in the family to graduate high school early."

"Check you out." Diane nudged her shoulder playfully. "_Beauty, Brains, _and _Boys_. The three B's. That's all you need in life."

"You'd think with all the brains I could figure out the _boy _part," Tara mused, smirking.

"That's what the _beauty _part is for, Grace," Diane coached. "It's _his _job to figure shit out and if he doesn't...well I did say _boyzzzz..._more than one to choose from."

Tara cocked an eyebrow at her. "Are you seriously giving me a _play the field _speech?"

"Isn't that what you're doing anyway? And while we're on the subject of boys...are you still a virgin?"

"_Okay_." Tara stood up from the top of the stairs. "Remember that part time job I was telling you about? I have a shift tomorrow. I should probably go to bed."

"With the boy you're planning on sneaking through your window?"

_Ughhhhh._

"No!"

Diane chuckled, rising up from the steps herself. "You and Mr. Hangover can use the front door. I just finished tucking your old man in and he's done for the night."

"Thanks for that," Tara said, avoiding her eyes. "I thought for sure I was gonna come home to shit missing from my room again. I still never got mom's bracelet back."

"How you been doing with all of this?"

Tara didn't have to be brave, didn't have to meet her eyes. She heard the concern, the sympathy in her voice.

"I manage," Tara answered, looking down at her hands as she twiddled her fingers.

"I should have come way sooner," Diane expressed, moving towards her to pull her into a hug. "I'm just as selfish as my big brother is...I'm sorry you've had to go through this by yourself."

Tara looked over at the house next to hers, a smile slowly spreading even through the couple of tears that sprung free from stubborn eyes. "Don't worry about me, _Di. _I have help."

Diane pulled back, finally forcing the niece that was barely ten years her junior to look at her. "You're right," she replied. "You _do _have help. I just got the official call two days before I came. I got a job and everything. I'm sticking around for a while."

It was a miracle the corners of her mouth didn't split from how quickly the wide smile spread across Tara's face. "_Really_?"

Diane nodded. "My first shift is Monday afternoon. And I don't know my exact schedule yet but I think it's safe to say I won't be getting any weekends off any time soon."

"_Damn_." Tara's smile faltered, her lips forming into a pout while her aunt's smile seemed to do the exact opposite when she saw Tara's dissapointed expression. "You couldn't have showed up Friday? A weekend with you would have been nice."

_Way better than the one I've had_, Tara started to say. But standing there in her front yard in the wee hours of Sunday morning she couldn't shake the feeling that on Saturday night she'd been exactly where she needed to be.

The only regrets she had were the awful things she had zero control over.

"We can still make the most of it," Diane argued. "Youneed a break, kid. Some time to be a teenager, do shit teenage girls _should _be doing...and since talking about _sex _is off the table—"

"—it _is_," Tara confirmed quickly, her cheeks turning red.

Diane shook her head, laughing. "How about a trip to the mall? Anything you want, on me. What time is your shift?"

"Eleven to four," Tara answered. "But even if I thought we could get any _real_ shopping done on a Sunday schedule, I was gonna go check on Jax...his father's in the hospital."

_"Shit."_

"Yeah."

"I think I saw something about that on the news when I brought Art home...I hope everything works out okay, Gracie."

"Me, too," Tara answered. She hugged her aunt one last time before walking towards the Cutlass to tap on the passenger Window Lowell was slobbering against.

_I also hope that when I wake up from my sleep I won't remember what I saw Gemma Teller doing in a place that was meant for penance and prayer._

* * *

Tara got the strangest phone call late the next morning.

And it wasn't the caller herself, but rather the context of the phone call that had Tara scratching her head, looking out of her kitchen window to see if pigs were flying in the sky.

"Tara, hi...this is Karen."

_I know._

"Hey, Karen," Tara said, sighing. "If your calling about this afternoon I copied down the schedule you posted in the office the second night I worked."

"This is actually not about that," the redhead said, clearing her throat. "As a matter of fact...I was wondering if maybe you wanted to take this Sunday off...make it up next weekend when you're _supposed_ to be off."

Tara cocked her head to the side even though Karen couldn't see her, biting down on her bottom lip, her eyebrows knitting together. "I don't understand."

"_Carlz_ had the baby about four this morning. Her labor was only four and a half hours so I figured my Godson couldn't wait to get out and start learning to talk, that way he could run his mouth all day just like his mama," Karen said, giggling. "Anyway...I saw you last night...at St. Thomas...heard about Johnathan Teller on the local news...I didn't realize you and his son were that close until yesterday."

_That's because knowing who I'm close with requires making an effort to actually get to know me instead of treating me like some minx that wants your boyfriends cock, _Tara thought initially.

The sarcasm died before it could settle good on her tongue.

Snooty and suspicious as she was, Karen Monroe was extending a very rare, immensely appreciated olive branch of sorts.

Tara thought it best not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Yeah... we _are_," Tara admitted.

"So I'm guessing theirs a chance we might pass each other in the lobby or elevator at St. Thomas today."

Tara smirked. "Yeah, we might," she replied. "Thank you, Karen."

"Right...Goodbye then."

_"...you should have seen the look on _Art's _face when his five year old daughter told him _she _was the one that drank his whiskey...she told him she used it to throw a tea party with her and her best friend Sarah..._Moira _thought it was funny as Hell but of course my brother blamed _me..._and It wasn't even my fault! I didn't tell her to lie for me! If I did it would have been a far more convincing story...and then there was this _other _time...Grace was—_Hey, look whose finally up!"

Tara shook her head, smirking as she walked into the kitchen, sitting the phone on the counter top on her way to the fridge. "I don't have to go to work anymore."

"Did your boss' heart grow three sizes today?"

Tara looked over at the woman pouring orange juice—the orange she'd been looking for in the fridge—into a glass in front of a very miserable looking Lowell Jr, who was clearly only half-listening to _the Adventures of Tara Grace Knowles, the scapegoat. _

"_Yeah," _Tara answered, snatching a glass from the cupboard before sitting down at the table across from him. The Grinch is letting me off the hook because she thinks my boyfriend's dad is dying."

"So you _do _have a boyfriend?"

Lowell Jr's ears seemed to perk up as well, he'd abandoned staring at the glass OJ like he was trying to concentrate to watch her as she answered.

Tara scoffed, rolling her eyes. "That's what she _thinks. _And I'm happy to let her assume that if it gets me out of work."

Diane rubbed her palms together. "_Perfect. _So we're on for the mall then?"

Tara looked over at an eager Diane, her expression apologetic. "I need to go check on, Jax."

"_Want _to," Diane corrected. "All them damn motorcycles rumbling through town, its a miracle I got any sleep last night. That boy's got an army's worth of family behind him, baby girl. Something you've _never_ had. You don't _have_ to be there. You _want _to be there...but I'm guessing you're not the only one that wants that, which is why I've got Plan B all ready to go."

Tara's mouth quirked to one side. "What's plan B? "

"Bring him with you," Diane answered simply, taking a sip from the mug in her hand. "Same thing applies. I got it covered."

Tara's eyebrows rose. "Did you hit the lotto and not tell me?"

"Like I said...I've been selfish." Diane shrugged, her facial somehow both impassive and mischievous. "Chalk it up to me making up for all the shopping trips you've missed out on."

"Jax isn't exactly the _girlfriend _I'd go try on clothes with," Tara said, giggling as she pictured using him as clothes rack, making him follow her around ,carrying her shopping bags.

"You and I both know first hand how awful it feels sitting at the foot of some hospital bed waiting for something to change," Diane said, her tone serious, but all the more gentle. "He needs to get away for a little bit...and I might not know all that much about his father but I think he'd want that for him, too. Any decent parent would."

Knowing what JT would want required getting to know the man behind the mask she saw whenever she looked at him. The same mask his son liked to wear at time.

Tara was still holding on to hope that she'd get that chance.

But in the mean time.

"I'll ask him," Tara conceded, shrugging. "I doubt he'll go for it but if he does...I really do need a new pair of boots."

"Any chance one of you can give me a ride home before you shop til you drop?" Lowell cut in.

"The only one that looks like they're about to _drop _is you, LJ," Tara teased.

"Agreed," Diane joined in, ruffling his hair before looking over at Tara, her eyes widening. "_Hello?! _What are you still sitting there for? _Go get dressed!_ You can go get your biker boyfriend while I give Mr. Hangover a ride to where ever he needs to be. Remember the selling point, sweetie. _Everything is being charged on _my_ card. _Even teenage boys love free stuff."

"He's really _not_ my boyfriend, you know," Tara commented, getting up to walk out of the kitchen. When she heard her aunt snicker, whispering '_Yeah right'_ to the kid still drinking his orange juice at the kitchen table, she was quick to yell over her shoulder, "_And he doesn't even _have _a bike_!"

_Not Yet anyway._

* * *

It hadn't even occured to Tara until she was walking towards the Main Lobby elevator at St. Thomas that it might have been a good idea to send Diane to fetch Jax while she took Lowell home.

The elevator dinged, the upside down triangle's light blinking on and the metal doors slid open.

But before she could step in, someone grabbed her by her arm, spinning her around.

Gemma Teller pulled her by her arm, several feet until Tara's body caught up with her brain and she yanked her arm out of the woman's iron grip.

Gemma spun around, angry pale green eyes locking with bright green.

And immediately Tara wished like Hell she was sitting in a car in front of the Harland residence instead of in the lobby with the _SAMCRO _matriarch.

"You're really pushing it, bitch," Gemma barked, her hands flying—thankfully—to her hip, instead of Tara's face.

_This is for Jax._

_This is his mother, the mother I can't fuckin STAND...but it's not about me._

_It's about Jax._

Tara took a deep, measured breath before speaking. "Look Gemma...we've got opinions about_each other. _I judge your club, the lifestyle you and your husband choose to raise your kid in and you judge everything about me, too. I'm not suddenly trying to glaze over that because I want to get on your good side. It's not because I want you to like me. I'm here because I care about your son. I want to be there for him...and he wants me here. I'm not here to cause trouble, or stir up any drama. I'm not trying to drive a wedge between you and Jax. All I want to do is be here for him. _That's it. _And I promise, right now I'm not judging you. I'm not judging _anything _about you."

"You done chirping your little song?" Gemma's eyes were narrowed to slits as she moved in closer to, stepping on the tips of Tara's boots. "I don't need your approval, you little gash. And I don't give a shit about _judgment._ What I care about is you putting ideas in my sons head about shit he's not ready to hear...shit you don't even understand...shit that _doesn't_ concern you because you're not a part of his _redneck-half-wit-biker thug_ family."

_Fuck this._

"I don't need your approval either, Gemma," Tara argued back. "I'm not going anywhere unless _Jax _tells me to leave. And the next time you put your hands on me I'm pressing charges on you and I don't give a shit who you send to threaten me. Jax forgave me the first time I _plotted to get you locked up _didn't he? I think I'll try my luck with a second because somehow I really don't think you cheating on his father while he's lying in a hospital bed is gonna win you any points..._Gem._"

Gemma's smile was even nastier than her scowl. "Since when do you give a shit about JT anyway? I bet you're probably feeling a little guilty knowing he might die thinking his own son hated him because of whatever bullshit lies you fed him." Tara didn't have to swallow her argument, because she couldn't think of a single defense. Gemma's accusation held more than just a mere grain of truth in it, so she stood there in shameful silence as the angry mother went in for the kill.

"Maybe you're just hoping for a little good karma," Gemma taunted, leaning down closer to sneer directly in her face, smirking when Tara backed up two spaces. "You think if you offer Jax a tissue and a shoulder to cry on, _your _old man might stop forgetting you're not your mother after a few swigs of bourbon?"

Tears stung Tara's eyes, as she fought to urge to release the steam building up in her chest with her fists instead of her eyes. "You're disgusting."

"You can take all your pity and shove it up your bony ass," Gemma growled. "I'm sure the stick already lodged up there could use company. Stay the hell away from my son. Jackson doesn't need you _or _your bullshit sympathy. Stay the fuck away or—"

"—Or you'll _what?_" Both pairs of green eyes snapped over to the spot where Piney and Jax were standing. "Or you're gonna do what to her, Ma? _Jesus Christ. _You don't think she's gotten enough threats from the Teller family? Damn near choking her to death didn't make you feel better? It didn't help you get over this grudge you're holding against a _teenager_?"

Gemma gaped, turning to start towards her son. "Jackson—"

Jax skirted around her, coming to a stop at Tara's side. "—Why you always gotta _fuck_ with her, Ma?"

"Jackson Nathaniel Tell—"

"—_You're_ supposed to be the adult."

"I _am _the adult," Gemma argued, pointing a finger at her own chest. "That's why you should listen to _me. _She shouldn't be here. It's not right. After what she said, what she _did..._and your father—"

"—don't even try to use JT to get your way," Jax cut in. "You're _wrong _anyway. Dad would want someone to be here with me, someone to be here _for _me."

"Opie—"

"—is here just like he always is. Just like I'm always here for him," Jax interrupted again, shaking his head. "That doesn't change anything. This isn't all about _you, _mom. It's not just about what you want. What I want matters, too."

"Of course it does, baby," Gemma agreed, nodding.

The hint of a smile Tara saw threatening to spread across her lips dissapeared the second Jax reached for her hand.

"I want _Tara_," Jax said, bluntly. "I want her here. And if you can't _deal?..._It's cool. I'll make sure she's not around you...but I probably won't be around much either."

Piney let a low whistle. "The apple never falls far from the tree, Gem. If you know JT like I know him you'll leave Junior and his...uhh...just leave them be."

Gemma looked like even more of a statue than Jax had the night before.

And just like the other Teller standing in the middle of the lobby, all it took was a certain embrace to thaw Gemma out.

Jax let go of Tara's hand.

Walking towards his mother, he pulled her into a hug, kissing her cheek before pulling back. "I love you, mom. Stop driving me crazy..._please._"

Gemma's nod moved with the cock of her hip as her hand made its way back up to it. "Yeah...OK...I'm headed back up. _I love you, too, baby._"

"I'll be right behind you in a second," Piney interjected, as they watched Gemma sashay away, stopping in front of the elevator doors she'd just pulled Tara away from.

Jax was already moving to stand in front of Tara before the metal doors opened.

"I'm sorry about that," he said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Tara reached for the hand messing up her hair, pulling it down, threading his fingers through hers. "If I blame you for all the shit your mother does you'll be apologizing to me all the time."

Jax smirked. "You caught me just in time—"

"—No _you _caught _me_ just in time."

Jax shook his head. "Right," he agreed, chuckling. "But I was just about to get a ride from Kyle...headed the clubhouse."

"The only reason I'm even here is because_ Red_ decided to be nice and let me off the hook for my shift at the store."

His blue eyes widened. "Are pigs flying?"

"Somewhere in the world. They've gotta be."

"I'd love to let you two continue to pretend I'm not standing here," Piney cut in, making them both jump, "but while I wanted to give Gemma a few minutes alone with John, I can't wait any longer to find out exactly what we're looking at here. What did the Doc say, Junior?"

Jax nodded. "She came by this morning," he explained, absently scratching his head. "It'll make my head hurt to try to remember the names of all the broken bones she listed. He's a fuckin jigsaw puzzle and they put together all big parts of the picture I guess...They won't know if his eyesight was affected or how severe it is until he wakes up but they were able to repair the broken socket...Collapsed lung repair went well, too but he's still not breathing well enough on his own...then again, if you let that annoying intern tell _it's a miracle he's alive at all."_

Tara's eyes widened. "She s_aid_ that?"

Jax shook his head, smiling wryly. "The look on her face said it," he answered. "But then again we all know Gemma has the natural ability to bring the _bitch _out of anyone when she's out for blood."

"Enough said."

"You said a lot, kid," Piney grunted, "but you're still not saying much at all."

"He's alive, Piney," Jax lamented, holding his hands out. "He made it through the night. And for some reason Altman's ready to shit skittles over his _ISP _ not being as extensive as they feared...whatever the Hell that means."

"_I-C-P_," Tara corrected, smiling."It's an acronym...stands for inter-cranial pressure. It means swelling in the brain...and if their saying it wasn't as severe as they thought that's actually _really_ good, Jax. Brain injuries are the most fatal part of vehicular accidents."

"Listen to _Encyclopedia Knowles _here," Piney advised, a smile starting to spread across his face. "Starting to sound like a glass half full kinda scenario, eh?"

Tara nodded, her smile brightening even more when Jax squeezed her hand.

"Well I'm gonna go see the clumsy bastard now…This is a rare moment, kids," Piney said, backing away. "right now he has no choice but to listen to me. Your old man's more stubborn than you are."

"I doubt that," Tara mumbled, giggling when Jax bumped her with his hip.

"I hope he's back to ignoring all your sage advice ASAP, Old man," Jax said to Piney's retreating back.

_Me, too._

"So Encyclopedia Knowles..."

"Yeah?" Tara braced herself for the question he was struggling to either form or ask (or both).

"...this _ICP_ thing...you think that means he's out of the woods?"

Tara looked down at the hand holding hers a moment, considering her answer carefully.

Looking up, she stared directly into his eyes. "It means there's chance, Jax," she answered, reaching up to hold a hand to his face. "...and it means you're not _allowed_ to lose hope...okay?"

Jax gently pulled her hand away from his face, kissing the palm of it. "_Okay."_

* * *

"What _did _I tell you, Ope? I _told_ you they'd be here already!"

Tara and Jax turned to see Donna all but sticking her tongue out at her boyfriend, a Teddy bear holding a "GET WELL SOON" heart in her hand.

"I think you owe Donna an apology, Jax," Tara teased, as soon as the couple came to a stop. "I don't think she appreciates you using grief to take advantage of her boyfriend last night."

Both boys said, "_what?" _at the same time.

Tara looked over at a suspicious Donna. "When I left, there was a lot of talk about cuddling...sitting in people's laps," she joked, giggling like a five year old at the horrified expressions on all three of their faces. "You're just in time, Tinkerbelle. I was just about to convince Jax to come with me to the mall. Arthur's baby sister is back in Charming and she's getting into the holiday spirit early. Diane's buying."

"Diane's back?" Opie asked, his eyes popping.

"Forget her aunt," Donna interrupted. "I'm sure she's cool and all but I'm more interested in just how _in the spirit of giving _she is."

"Why am I not surprised..._Oww!"_

Tara giggled at Opie rubbing his arm, knowing damn well that shit didn't really hurt.

Well, at least she didn't _think _it did.

Opie looked over at Jax. "Any change?"

Jax shrugged. "It's not _bad _news...all we can do right now is wait...right?" he said, looking at Tara.

Opie nodded, before turning his head to cock an eyebrow at Tara. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

"She used me as an excuse to get out of her shift," Jax complained, turning to wriggle his eyebrows at Tara. "I better get some extra benefits for that. I want a whole new wardrobe, Knowles."

"I seriously doubt there's any _plaid _left for you to buy, Farmer John," Tara teased, not yet realizing what he was saying.

Jax looked over Donna, pointing his thumb at Tara. "_Daisy Dukes _over her probably bought out all the denim shorts, so I hope that's not what you want to shop for."

"With all that Disney money she could just buy a factory and hire workers to make clothes for her," Tara joked.

"Good point...maybe she should be bankrolling our shopping trip," Jax commented, smiling at Tara.

Tara could feel her own eyes widening in excitement. "So you're really gonna come?"

"_Don't do it to yourself, bro._" Opie's advice was followed by a chorus of laughter when he ducked his head, narrowly missing Donna's hand.

"It'll be fun and _Di_ hasn't seen you guys since we were in elementary," Tara urged, looking at Donna. "And she's never even met _you."_

"We can come over your place and introduce them now," Opie suggested. "that doesn't requiring ten hours of watching you trying on shit you're not even gonna buy and asking us _if these jeans _make your ass look fat."

"Oh _yeah?_" Donna's hand flew to her hip a lot like someone else Tara knew. "You think I like watching Beavis and Butthead?"

"Not like you let me watch it in peace," Opie grumbled.

Tara was snickering, watching Donna and Opie do their usual when Jax leaned into her, his breath tickling her ear when he whispered against it. "Any chance you're going bra shopping, too? I'd love to watch you model those...I could even help you take them on and off when you're trying them out."

"What about _panties_?" Tara teased, ignoring the groans and smart comments from the couple beside them as she pulled his head down to whisper back. "You wanna help me pick those out, too?"

Jax backed away from her, turning to look at Opie. "Fix your face, Ope. _We're going to the mall._"

* * *

Tara giggled when Jax took off. He was the first one through the sliding doors and the hilarity of it had Tara tempted to stop him and tease him the way he'd done to her a the party.

Her laughter died in her throat when she saw half of the cheer leading squad strutting through the parking lot towards them, hands filled with baskets, balloons, and cards. At the front of the line were her _favorite _girls.

Maize "_Maisey_" O'Keefe.

Sage "_Lauren_" Vidal.

Imalya "_Ima_" Lee.

Chicks whose name "_all over Jax's lap at the fundraiser_" she refused to try recalling.

And the infamous Stacey "eat this _holy Sunday school _dirt, bitch!" Wilson.

"Hey, Jax," Stacey, the ringleader and Captain said before a chorus of other "hey's" and "Hi's" followed.

Jax nodded his head up. "Hey, Darlin," he said. _Ughhhh. Gag me with a fuckin spoon. _"All of that for my Old man?"

Maize spoke up next, because _of course _she did. "We heard about what happened on the news...wanted to come show our support."

"I hope he pulls through, Jax," said no-name-lap-sitter.

Ima turned to scowl at her. "He's _going _to get better...we just hopes its sooner than later. You're suppose to say positive shit, _stupid."_

"I know what you're like, you know...when you're not depressed...or crying your eyes out and shit," Lauren Vidal commented. "If Biker daddy's recovery keeps you being the cocky asshole with _all the moves_ to back it up...I'm all for it."

_I should have punched you in your throat instead of your nose. Maybe then you're mouth wouldn't be moving._

"We're all pulling for him," Stacy added.

"Thanks ladies," Jax said.

"He a_ppreciates _it," Donna interjected, dropping the bear and card in her own hand into no-name's basket. "But he's on his way out. Gemma's upstairs visiting if you wanna ask the front desk permission to bring all your baskets and shit up…."

"Where you going?" No-name asked.

"He's going with _me_," Tara answered for him. All eyes flew to her, and she stood even taller under all the scrutiny. "You ready, Jax?"

Jax let out a smirk before tipping her chin up with his hands, planting a kiss on her lips that would make a Nun blush.

Tara didn't even need to see the glares of jealousy being shot her.

She could feel the heat behind them as Jax said, "Thanks, a lot girls. I really _do _appreciate it," while still looking in her eyes only.

She could practically hear the hisses over Donna's giggling, over Opie's _"What did I tell _you_?" _to Donna when Jax grabbed her hand, pulling her in step with him as they walked past his harem of fans.

_I might have to actually made good on my word, _Tara thought, recalling his hilarious reaction to her complete joke about panty shopping.

_Just for shits and giggles._

She _was _trying to take his mind off things, wasn't she?

* * *

**BTW: **I wrote a one-shot (PWP) that sort of gives a glimpse into where I see Jax &amp; Tara in my **(AU) **version of them. I may end up making it a series of one-shots since I'm not ready to get to the _really_ erotic/romantic scenes in their teenage story just yet. It's coming but I have a specific timeline in mind. So check it out if you want.

If I make it a series it'll be called "OUTLAW LOVE" but for now the one-shot is called "REMINDING (YOU)"

**|REVIEW|****  
**


	47. Chapter 43

**A/N: **This Chapter was a total toss up, you guys. I went back and forth on whose **POV **I wanted to tell it through SO many times lol. Hope you enjoy my not-so-lazy Sunday ramblings.

\- **V**eritable** O**l**d L**a**dy C**ro**w**

* * *

By the time Donna and Tara finished picking out all the clothes they wanted, both teenage boys trucking behind them with large paper bags in their hands were on their _hundredth_ and _milliont__h _groans.

And surprisingly, it was Opie_, _the one that never wanted to go to the mall in the first place that groaned the _least. _

Jackson Teller had Opie Winston's groans beat by the hundredth of thousands. The only thing was, they were both frustrated for two completely different reasons.

Jax was confident that he could have coerced Tara into making good on his suggestion and hers about the bra and panties—and he would have if her aunt hadn't been chaperoning them.

He could see it in the way the two of them interacted, damn near finishing each others sentences, laughing and joking as if she'd never left Charming years ago. Tara cared a lot about Diane Knowles' opinions. There was definite value in what she thought, whether it was the choice between sleeveless or off the shoulder, denim or velour. And somehow Jax knew that extended to other areas of her young aunt's expertise...like boys.

Diane appeared to be very laid back and fun, even susceptible to the Teller charm the way most females (that weren't pain in the ass Tara) were. She also seemed very amused by the antics of the four teenagers at the mall with her.

But even his own mother was proof that females were tricky. They could seem _one_ way and really be another just as easily as they could say "_Okay_" to not driving their son crazy when what they really mean is "_first chance I get it's me and this gash Tara round four!_".

Jackson Teller thought it was best to handle Charming, California's latest alumna return with kid gloves.

But Tara didn't seem to care that her aunt was a part of her audience.

And that was making it really hard to remember the Golden boy persona he'd set out to portray.

Hard in more than one way...

_"How does this look?"_

Every new Top Tara tried on was cut just a little bit lower, rose just a little bit higher.

Jax wanted to circle her navel with his tongue, bury his face in between the scoop-neck V of the shirt when she stood directly in front of him, asking how the purple crop top looked, knowing damn well he was way more focused on what was underneath it.

When the _Hell _did she decide to stop wearing bras? This was a new development because God knows he would have noticed it before.

_"You think I could..._pull this off?_"_

Every skirt she modeled for them (in his mind for _him_) got just a little bit shorter.

Jax had caught _Aunt Diane's _eye in the mirror behind her when Tara asked the question. That was only thing that stopped him from hiking that tight, black corduroy skirt up and yanking her down until she was straddling his lap.

Tara knew damn well the only interest he had in that skirt was the gorgeous girl wearing it...and everything that was underneath it.

_"...Damn it!...the zipper's stuck...a little help here, Teller?"_

There was no way in Hell the zipper on that dress was really stuck either.

Jax got it _unstuck _way too easily. He didn't even have to put his wrist into it when he slid the metal piece down. Bare back and shoulders, not a bra strap in sight. He already knew she wasn't wearing one but damn it if the visual confirmation didn't make his jeans feel even tighter. The "stuck" zipper was down now and the throbbing member behind his own zipper was steadily rising _up _the longer she continued to stand there, letting him enjoy the view.

He could feel her watching his reaction, too.

Without even looking up at her through the mirror she stood in front of, he could picture her pretty green eyes sparkling in amusement at the way he was staring down at her Betty Boop panties as if he was trying to make them disappear with his eyes. It wasn't until then that he truly hated his best friend for not successfully convincing his shopaholic girlfriend to "_let Tara and Jax go to the mall...and we can go watch a movie._"

Diane _alone_ would have been a cake walk. He'd have no problem ditching her for a few minutes...or an hour. Ditching Donna, Opie, _and _Diane, however.

Im-_freakin_-possible.

"Do you think I should get it?" Tara asked, smoothing the front of the hip-hugging dress down with her palms.

"If I say _yes_, can we leave?" Opie wondered out loud.

"I vote yes," Diane answered, smirking at the bored expression on Opie's face.

"It's hot," Donna agreed. "_My_ vote is yes, too. I think you should get it."

Judging by the way Tara was chewing her bottom lip, the brunette wasn't so sure she agreed with their assement.

But then again, she could have just been teasing him—sucking her bottom lip into her mouth knowing how much he enjoyed doing that himself.

_I __think you should get it, too, _Jax thought.

_And you're going to._

_You're really gonna fuckin get it if you keep messing with me._

If getting his mind off of worrying about his dad was her goal, Tara Knowles was the heavy weight titlist of the afternoon. She'd nailed it, passed with flying colors.

But she was playing a dangerous game, seriously underestimating the amount of self-control the teenage boy sitting on the bench behind her had.

He didn't really care if she got mad at him afterwards. If she kept fuckin with him he would not be held responsible for what he did to her behind the curtain of that dressing room she kept walking inside of.

Jax was ready to fuck with her, too. And that dressing room wasn't the only thing he wanted to be inside of.

* * *

"_Come on_, Tara," Donna complained. "I still want to get shoes _and _I saw a _Now Hiring _sign in front of that boutique we passed on level three...Hurry up!"

"Now she understands _my_ pain," Opie mumbled under his breath, making Jax chuckle.

"I don't know how you're not enjoying this, bro," Jax muttered back, waving a hand at Donna who was busy, bending over to pick up the hangers that had fallen out the tops in her hand. "_Oww, what the fuck?_!"

Opie chuckled as Jax rubbed his shoulder. "Eyes up here," Opie said, holding his hand above his head, "unless it's Tara you're eyeballing."

Jax shook his head. "You just made my point for me, asshole."

"_Tara!" _Donna shrieked, knocking another hanger out of her hand when she slapped her thigh in frustration.

"O-key, O-key, _Cabron_," Tara said from behind the curtain.

_And I thought her British accent was awful._

Donna looked confused, but Jax and Opie were already snickering before Diane pulled the curtain back.

Tara was wearing a wife beater underneath an unbuttoned black, white and grey checkered shirt . Jax had no idea how she'd manage to slip away from the group long enough to find the bandanna tied into a knot across her forehead, or how she managed to find those _eight sizes too big _jeans that would have slid right off her ass if she hadn't been holding them up by the crotch.

"How are you liking _Vato Knowles,_ Jax?" Diane asked as her niece threw in a gangsta limp for good measure when she stalked towards the bench where Opie and Jax were sitting.

_"Yeahh...Watchu think, yo?"_

Jax almost choked on his spit, he was laughing so hard.

Unable to keep her look of annoyance in tact, Donna finally bursts into giggles along with everyone else. "I think that even if those were _meant _to be parachute pants they'd still look ridiculous."

"I don't know what the hell parachute pants are," Opie commented, "but I suggest you give whatever Mexican gangster you stole that from their outfit back...that's just awful."

"_Ohhhh...I see..._so you can give Tara feedback when she's not even asking _you_ but everything I tried on was _great_. It looked _great_," Donna complained, doing a comically deep voice that sounded nothing at all like Opie's.

Jax and Diane laughed harder, Tara breaking her gangsta pose to join in with them.

"That's because it does look great, baby," Opie lamented. "Is it my fault if you look sexy in everything you put on?"

"_Whatever_," Donna huffed, but she lost the battle to keep the erupting smile on her face hidden. "I'm sick of waiting on you. I'm going to find shoes." Shuffling all the clothes in her hands to on arm, she used the other to pull Diane along. "I _love _your shoes...you gotta help me pick out some as awesome as those."

"I should have warned you, _she's bossy_!" Tara called after her as her aunt Diane looked back, shrugging good-naturedly as she was pulled from the woman's clothing section of the store.

"_Please_ tell me you're done now?" Opie begged, as soon as they disappeared. "I'm starving. I wanna go to the food court."

"What about you, Teller?" Tara asked.

Jax smirked, making sure she didn't miss the way his eyes traveled down her body. "_I could eat."_

"Then I'll buy you a fuckin pretzel!" Opie blurted, oblivious to their exchange as his eyes veered towards the ceiling. "You, too, Tara. Let's just go."

"Fine, you big baby," Tara said. "I'm done...going to change right now."

"Thank God." Opie rose from the bench. "Come on, bro. We might as well get a spot in the line for them unless we wanna be in here another hour..._and unless you're buying that outfit to wear for Halloween next year I suggest you put it back__ on the racks...before you get gunned down in a drive-by._"

Jax stood up from the bench. "You should definitely get that dress though," he suggested.

Tara shook her head, smiling. "No bueno..._papi_," she joked. "...the zipper sticks."

_More like that's the bullshit story you're "sticking" to, _Jax thought as he suppressed the urge to snatch her up and be her personal escort back into that dressing room.

Jax had a feeling that the dining experience he _wanted_ to have behind that curtain would rival any choice of fast food out on that food court Opie was rushing to get to.

"I'm getting in line for Donna," Opie announced, all but tapping his foot in impatience. "You gonna hold a spot for her, or what?"

"Yeah," Jax answered, winking at Tara before she turned to walk back into the dressing room.

It was both sexy and hilarious the way the oversized jeans fell of her ass when she forgot she was supposed to be holding them up, swaying her hips for all they were worth on her way to go change out of them.

_Hello, Betty Boop._

_I wanna be loved by you, too._

When Jax turned to walk off, he could see through several racks of clothing that Opie was already standing at the end on one of the four lines in the check out area of the store.

_Hungry ass, Paul Bunyan motherfucker._

* * *

Diane and Donna were ready to ring their stuff up, too when Tara came out of the fitting room much to Opie's delight, but Donna still wanted to fill out an application for the store that was hiring on the floor below.

Knowing how easily filling out an application could turn into the three females browsing the racks to shop, the elder of the group thought it would be best to put the boys out of their misery.

They agreed to meet them at the food court once they finished since Diane wanted to try on the leather jacket she'd seen in the window of the boutique while Donna applied and Tara just _had _to be there to tell her if it looked good on her or not.

That's how Jax ended up alone with Opie, scarfing down the last of his cheeseburger and fries while they waited for the girls to remember that ten minutes didn't mean thirty.

"There's only one silver lining in this situation," Opie commented randomly as they watched crowds of people walk in and out and around the food court area.

"What's that?"

"If today was a Saturday instead of Sunday they could keep us captive here even longer."

Jax chuckled. "This was actually fun," he admitted, although it was more to himself. "...for a little while I stopped thinking about my Old Man...him just lying there..."

"Hey, you're the one that said we just have to wait," Opie reminded him. "...he's in better shape than they thought he'd be, right? If Doc thinks there's a chance he might pull through I say we go with the best case scenario."

"She's_ optimistic_," Jax answered, peeling the plastic cover off his cup of soda to take a gulp. "...she was optimistic with Thomas, too. _So_ optimistic they were giving him toys to take home...filling out discharge papers and shit. Then everything went left. Even Gemma didn't see it coming and she's just as glass half _empty _as I am." Jax chuckled bitterly. "...part of me wonders if my Old man saw that Semi coming before it smacked into him..."

Jax could _hear _Opie's brow furrowing. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"_Nothing._" Jax shook his head, turning to crack a smile at the pensive expression on his best friend's face. "...I just think he might have had a lot on his mind."

..._like his son hating "the awful thing that turned out to be his father"._

Opie shook his head, his expression grave. "That shit ain't funny, Jax."

Jax chuckled still, the raspy sound somehow just a little bit thicker with bitterness. "It's really _not. _But what can you do?" he mused. Then as something else occurred to him, he added, "I'll tell you what, though. I know what my _mother_ should do. She should stop starting cat fights with my..."

Opie cocked an eyebrow, smirking as he leaned towards him, curving a hand next to his ear. "...with your _what_?"

Something had caught his eye, making his head turn towards the sight in his peripheral vision.

Jax twisted the rest of his body towards the left of the table where they sat.

Assuming he was just trying to distract him, Opie rolled his eyes before following the blue-eyed teen's line of vision.

Before Opie could get a good look at the young guy helping Tara up off of the mall floor, Jax had already jumped up from his chair, pushing the table into Opie's chest.

"What the hell, man?!" Opie wiped at the ketchup that splashed on his shirt from the tray in front of him.

"_Did you see that shit?_" Jax barked.

Opie took too long to ask, "what?" because Jax was already charging towards the four of them, Opie following suit after a brief pause.

* * *

"...which is not as easy as I thought...and I've just been so stressed with that _and _trying to finish pre-grading his midterm papers before Thanksgiving break that I'm all over...my_ God...you're beautiful."_

"Thank you," she said, putting the armful of shirts he handed her, putting them back in the bag. Tara's answering blush was almost as deep as the the scarlet-glower on Jax's face when he came to a stop behind them.

"I'm sorry," the young guy stammered, running a hand through his short, light brown hair. "I didn't even mean to say that out loud...you just caught me off guard. I wasn't expect—"

"It's cool, dude," Donna assured, smirking. She was the only one of the three of them that noticed Jax and Opie's abrupt presence.

"I promise you, gorgeous...women never get tired of being called beautiful," Diane added.

"Well I'm sorry about your bags then," he said, looking down at the tear in the two, large shopping bags in her hand.

Bags she'd just had to repack when the force of them colliding with each other sent them flying out of her hands and her flying back onto her ass.

Tara waved away his apology, smiling bashfully. "It was probably my fault...I wasn't looking where I was going."

"No, trust me—"

"—_He _was," Jax interrupted, making the three girls and the stranger standing in the middle of them turn their heads towards him. "I saw him all the way from the food court. He ran into you on purpose. _Charged into you _actually...like a fuckin bull."

"Here we go," Jax heard Donna mumble, but at the moment the heat in his glare was only focused on one person.

"It _was _my fault," the young, handsome guy quickly replied, "but I _definitely _didn't—"

"—You're full of shit," Jax snapped. "You _did_."

"Jax!" Tara shrieked, her face red—with embarrassment this time.

"Opie saw that shit, too. _Right Ope?_" Jax and every other head turned to look up at the boy standing next to him.

"That's his _should I or should I not lie _face," Donna interjected, nudging Tara's shoulder. She shook her head at her boyfriend. "Jax is just being his usual self...an _ass."_

"Even if I _didn't _see it, why the hell would he make up some shit like that, Donna?" Opie argued.

"Okay, maybe I should just go..."

"You _should..._but right now I'm still not clear on why you're walking around the mall charging into people," Jax argued, glaring at him. "You wanna enlighten me? Is that the only way you know how to get girls to stop and talk to you?"

Opie's snicker turned into a really bad cough when his girlfriend and Tara glared at him.

"This is _not _the part of High school I miss," Diane commented. Her tone of voice _sure_ didn't sound like it though. "Let's just all—"

"—how about we make this simple?" Donna cut in, fixing her eyes on the guy trapped between the five of them. "You were saying something about being a TA, doing tutoring at some college before you looked up and got all mystified by my girls _beauty..._you should give her your number...that way she can back to you when she doesn't have an audience...if that's what _she _wants to do..."

"Can I at least get your name?" the guy asked, looking at Tara.

"It's _Tara," _the brunette answered, her smile apologetic.

He nodded, pulling a small, white card from his messenger bag. Holding it out, his eyes widened when Donna took it from his hands before Tara could reach for it.

"If you ever need any tutoring...or...anything just give me a call, okay _Tara?_" he said. The way he said her name was like a caress on his tongue.

That shit was making Jax's fingers twitch, itching to be balled into a fist.

"I will," Tara promised. "...bye."

Jax felt like knocking her hand down when she raised it to wave amicably at the tall, blue-eyed stranger turning his head to look back at her after only walking a few steps away from the group.

"So..._he was cute_."

Jax temporarily forgot he was supposed to be getting _Aunt Di _to like him when he looked up to glare at her.

"And he sounds _really smart_," Donna piled on, grinning as she read the card. "...and ambitious...pre-law major _and _he does tutoring for _math _and _science_?"_  
_

"We get the point," Opie gushed, rolling his eyes. He snatched the card from Donna. Tossing it at Jax, it floated to the floor when Jax didn't bother uncrossing his arms to catch it. "_He's not the boss of her.._.blah blah_...stop being macho because we hate that shit...even though we know we really_ love _it_..wacka wacka wa_...I am woman, hear me roar,_ bow chicka wow _wow_ wow_. _You guys done making a statement?"

Diane smirked. "Either Tara's rubbing off on you or the other way around. I can't decide who's the bigger smart ass," she said, looking at her niece as she pointed at Opie saying, "I like _this _one."

_Motherfucker._

"I bet you won't volunteer to take a bunch of teenagers to the mall again any time soon," Tara commented, her own arms folded across her chest as she pursed her lips at Jax.

"You ate without us, didn't you?" Donna said, eyeing the stain on Opie's shirt.

"I can go for seconds," Opie answered, ignoring her accusation.

Donna smirked, pushing him in the chest before linking her arms in his, walking back towards the food court.

"I'm actually kinda hungry, too. Watching the live version of 90210 really works up an appetite," Diane teased. She looked over at a begrudgingly smirking Tara. "You think it's safe for me to leave you with _Rambo_ here?"

"Yeah," Tara answered, green eyes flitting back to Jax. "We're good."

* * *

"What the hell is wrong with you, Jax?" Tara blurted out as soon her aunt was out of earshot. "I swear it's like two steps forward and ten back with you. I get that you're going through—"

"—Tara, _please _don't make this about my father," Jax said, blowing out a frustrated breath.

Tara's sigh was even more labored. "I don't know what to say to you then because that's the _only _thing I can think of to let you off the hook for being an asshole to a perfect stranger just because he gave me a compliment."

_That's not all he wants to give you._

_And you _know _that shit, too._

"_Perfect_ stranger?" Jax's eyebrows rose to his scalp. "I'll tell you what's _perfect _Tara...the way he played _all three_ of you! And I can't even call you gullible because you were too busy looking at Donna to see it. I wasn't. _I saw him do it._"

"It doesn't make any sense!" Tara argued. "I don't know that guy from a hole in the wall. Why would he run into me?"

"It's just like I told that preppy loser...it was probably his lame way of getting your attention...getting you to talk to him."

"_Lame_, huh?" Tara smirked. "Well not everybody can drawl the word _Darlin' _the way you do, Jackson Teller. Other guys have to get creative."

"Sure," Jax grumbled. "...because giving you a concussion is a real _panty dropper_."

Tara giggled. "_Ughhh..._you're sooooo annoying," she complained, stepping closer to him.

"It's part of my charm," Jax retorted, winking at her just as swiftly as the sound of her laughter—and a apple-cheeked smile _he'd _coaxed out of her, erased any trace of anger in him.

"That charm of yours is a hell of a lot more lethal than him running into people," Tara quipped. She ran her hands through his hair, tugging the soft strands a little too hard for comfort before pulling his face down to kiss him. "_You know_...if you're not just being a crazy person and he actually _did _run into me on purpose."

"Why you still focusing on that? You planning on giving him a call for some private tutoring?" Jax asked against her lips, his arms wrapped around her waist. Someone (he didn't bother to look) wolf-whistled as they walked passed them.

Mischief flashed in Tara's eyes before she pulled his arms from around her, squatting down to pick the discarded card off of the mall floor. "No," she said, giving it to him. "But _you _should...he might be able to catch you up on the _weeks _worth of school work you've been missing."

"Be serious...I already got Tara Knowles, _Charming High's know it all _in my corner," he said, before flipping the card she handed him over to read what it said. "I have you, babe...what the Hell do I need with _Joshua Kohn_?"

Tara smirked, snatching the card back. "Just in case," she whispered against his lips, tucking the card inside the breast pocket of his shirt. "You might need a back up for when I get tired of your shit. Keep acting out, Mr. Teller and you'll have to find someone else to _play _teacher with you."

Jax's eyebrows rose. "Oh yeah?" He was smiling at her like the cat that was about to eat the canary as one of his hands slid down from her waist to palm her ass. "Well in the mean time...I've been skipping class for _weeks_...what kind of punishment am I looking at, _Mrs. Knowles?_"

* * *

**You know what to do, folks. Show this Veritable Crow some love.**

Hit **|REVIEW| **and speak yo piece or in other words...

A penn—_another chapter—_for your thoughts? (Feedback not just compliments, peeps. That's all I have to inspire me and my creativity now...I know I know...I'll get over it but SERIOUSLY, SUTTER? **Izzie stevens voice*** _SERIOUSLY?!_)


	48. Chapter 44

**A/N: **I caved. Watched the series finale. I cried throughout the whole episode and yet when it came down to the final moment…the tears stopped. I hated the way the story turned after season 5's "Laying Pipe" but based on the events that followed (aka the way Sutter chose to write his story) the ending….made sense…it was…_peaceful._

But I still say **fuck that. **

I'm going to write my own ending &amp; I'm a greedy bee-yatch so "peaceful" just isn't going to cut it. I want **happy. **I can't sludge through all the awful shit in the real world _and_ endure the same shit in the world of fiction.

It's official. **(AU) **it is. **(AU) **this shall be.

**P.S: **Speaking of _Happy Endings_...more fun times for J &amp; T in the chapter **after **this one... *Giggity*

**SIDEBAR:** I think I'm going to (**try** to) start posting shorter chapters after these next few. When I post longer ones it takes longer to finish which means longer time between updates. _That means more cliffhangers for you guys! _ So I'll try to post as I go along for you guys. Just don't forget to REVIEW!!

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

The steady beeping of the machines seemed to grow louder every time Jax summoned the courage to look over at his father. As he sat there, the doctor's words echoed in his head.

_It was a miracle he survived the surgery. _

_Everything is touch and go but we're optimistic that things might turn around._

Might wasn't good enough.

Last night he couldn't even bring himself to look his in his direction. And now as he sat there straight across from him, looking at his battered face hidden underneath all the tubes, his leg suspended in the air, all the pristine white of the body cast molded around his father's body—a large part of him regretted coming back.

Jax wished he was back at the mall watching Tara, Donna and her aunt try on clothes. He wished he was still sitting on that bench listening to Opie sigh and complain about how long they were taking. He wanted to stand in the middle of the mall, making out with the green-eyed brunette that loved to push his buttons.

When he'd left this morning he'd been optimistic.

He'd tried to be anyway.

Faking it until it was real was easy with a room full of doctors distracting him with all their medical speak, or with a mother so Hell bent on telling the healers how to do their job—or with a girl who wouldn't let him give up hoping no matter how dark and scary all the thoughts running through his mind were.

Stress was beating a cramp in his neck, swelling a lump in his throat from the tears he refused to shed.

No more crying.

He'd done enough of that the night before in Tara's arms—and now she was in his.

"_Jax?_"

Jax turned his head at the sound of her voice—it was a soft whisper, her breath tickling his ear. She was laying against him, their hands intertwined, resting on the middle of his chest.

"Yeah?"

"Talk to him."

"What?"

"I used to talk to my mom when she was….it might help….I think you should talk to him."

Jax sat up slowly, the reclining chair sliding forward—he snaked his arm around her waist, angling her body towards him so he could look into her eyes.

"I don't know what you expect me to say, Tara," Jax told her. "For all I know he can't even hear me...his brain's probably scrambled to all—"

"—you don't know that," Tara urged. "…even if can't respond that doesn't mean he can't hear you…it doesn't mean he's not listening…and it doesn't have to be about him. Do it for you. Tell him what you need him to hear…what he needs to know."

There was a brief moment where the beep of the machines was the only sound as the two of them sat there, looking into each other's eyes—searching.

Then Tara nodded her head at him once, leaning in to lightly press her lips to his before standing up. "I get it, Jax," she assured. "I'll wait outside….okay?"

His smile was tight, but wholly sincere as he reached for her hand kissing the back of it before saying, "Thank you," as she turned to leave the room.

The private hospital room clicked shut.

Jax forced his eyes over to where his father lay once again.

As a toddler, Jax started talking before he could walk. His mom loved to tell him that, especially when the subject was on how smart his mouth had gotten. Almost sixteen years worth of speech behind him and yet it took several minutes for him to find his voice.

It took another ten to find the words, the right way to string them together.

And just a little more time to gather to courage to say them even knowing that they might not even being reaching the person they were meant for.

_"__You gotta get better, dad,_" Jax said quietly. "You're forever making promises…always apologizing when you fail to keep them. I've just been so….God, I've been _so fuckin _pissed at you…angry because I felt like you were leaving me behind…like you didn't give a shit about your family anymore…like losing Thomas… ever since then the Club was all you cared about. I was lying when I said I didn't believe you…I know you're not the kind of man who would….I just know you wouldn't have hurt her…and I don't think you're awful…I know you tried…you were trying to do right by me and Ma…and I know you're always trying to balance what we need with the club...with what your...what your _other _family needs from you. You were trying….but I wanted you to try _harder. _Like now…Doc says there's a chance…so you gotta try…fight really fuckin hard because you're not the only one that lost him...you lost a son...but I lost my brother...I don't wanna lose my father, too...so, JT..._Dad..._get through this, okay? I need you...and _I love you_."

* * *

_Perfect timing as always_, Jax thought as he heard the sound of the hospital room door opening.

But it wasn't Tara coming back just when he needed her.

"You okay, _son_?"

The deep baritone of his voice broke had Jax's head snapping to the right of him. He looked up just as the hospital room door clicked shut behind Clay Morrow. The sight of the president's patch on his leather vest brought on a rage that Jax nearly choked on as he forced it back down.

_How the Hell did Piney let that happen?_

He didn't know why it bothered him so much but it did. And maybe it wouldn't have mattered who wore the patch if it wasn't his old man. But somehow Jax couldn't shake the feeling that this particular bitter pill would have been a lot easier to swallow if Piney was the one holding the gavel—the way the Vice President _usually _did when the charter Prez couldn't hold office for whatever reason.

Something wasn't right.

And Jax wasn't a patch—he wasn't even a prospect.

Being the child of the Sons of Anarchy's founding member and president carried a lot of weight in Charming…with everyone except the actual members. To them, Jackson Teller was just a entitled kid, who enjoyed bending all the rules the outlaw life he lived allowed. If there _was _something going on nobody was going to tell him shit.

"Your mother said you were with Opie and his girlfriend," Clay commented. "And that girl who was here with you last night…what was her name again?"

At the mention of Tara, Jax knew at once the _other_ reason he was so irritated.

"Why?" Jax questioned. _You should know her name. You're probably the asshole that threatened her. _

Clay held his beefy hands up in mock surrender. "I'm not here to weigh in on whatever shit you got going on with you and your mom."

"I didn't think you would," Jax answered. "It has nothing to do with you."

"How'd you get here?" Clay asked. "The prospect bring you?"

"No."

"Well—"

"I came here to visit my old man," Jax complained. "Not play twenty questions with the man wearing _his _patch."

"Listen, son—"

"—but since you want to ask questions, what was all the shit with LJ about?" Jax questioned. "I saw _Tara's_ face. Why did she look scared when he mentioned overhearing _you _and his father? Why does she _always _look so scared when you're around her? Did something happen?"

There was only one thing better than sex when Jax needed a distraction from all the things he didn't want to feel. He didn't really need booze or weed either. All he needed was his short temper and a target to aim it at.

"I don't know what you're suggesting," Clay retorted. "But despite what that little girl thinks about the MC we're not into underage—"

"—_that's not what I'm talking about!" _Jax exclaimed, his voice rising.

"Is everything okay in here?" the Nurse suddenly standing in the open doorway asked. Before the door swung shut behind her, Jax glimpsed Tara leaning over the counter, smiling as she talked with one of the nurses sitting behind the desk.

_At least you didn't scare her off._

_Again._

"Yeah, we're fine," Clay answered for them.

"I just need to change these out," the young nurse announced as she switched out the nearly empty I.V bag hooked up to the machine next to JT's bed with a new one, "And I'll be right out of your way."

"Thanks, Darlin," Clay grunted at the smiling nurse when she walked past him to leave the room, moments later.

"No problem, sir," she said, pulling the door shut. "You gentleman have a good night."

There was a very pregnant moment of silence where the beeping machines seemed even louder.

"We have to stay focused on what's important, son," Clay advised minutes later. "Your old man…him getting better is the only thing that matters right now."

_It's the only thing that _should _matter…._

Jax clenched his jaw, biting down on his tongue to keep from telling the man invading his space to stop calling him _son._

"I know this shit is rough, Jackson," Clay continued. "First your little brother, and now _this…"_

_Thanks for the recap, asshole._

"Yeah, it is," Jax conceded. Looking down at the floor was the only thing keeping his temper at bay.

One thing JT always taught him was to ignore what people said and pay attention to their actions.

It could have been the grief.

Or maybe it was something else he couldn't quite put a name to.

All Jax knew was that he didn't like the vibe he was getting from the man standing at the foot of his father's bed…empathizing with the _brother _whose patch he wore on his chest, with pride that made his words of comfort sound hollow.

"I just want you to know that whatever happens," Clay said, walking close enough to Jax to place his large on his shoulder, "you and your mother will always be a part of SAMCRO. You're family…and we always look after our own."

Jax wanted so badly to scream, _It's not your fuckin club!_

"Thanks, _Prez_," he snarked instead. Then he sat back in the chair abruptly, knocking the hand off his shoulder. When the large man's arm dropped to his side, something fell out of the inside pocket of his kutte, flying across the floor.

Jax watched as the tiny syringe rolled along the checkered tile, stopping at the foot of his father's bed.

_What the hell?_

Jax cocked an eyebrow. "What the hell is _that_?"

When Clay smiled at him it gave Jax the same creepy feeling he always got.

Bending down to reach for the needle, Clay chuckled. "_This_," he said holding it up in front his face, "is for Tiggy. _P__enicillin_. Getting friendly with all of Luann's friends is finally _catching_ up with him. You better make sure you wrap it up, kid. Don't want your pee burning. _Or your dick falling off_."

Jax cracked a genuine smile despite himself. "No worries there. If it didn't fall off, Gemma would chop it off once I _knocked somebody up_. I doubt my Old man could save me either."

"You're probably right," Clay agreed, laughing. Then he sobered up a bit. "Speaking of ya Old man….think I could get a moment with him?"

Jax thought about it. What could he really say? _Kick rocks_ was his knee-jerk response but this was SAMCRO's Prez—even if it was temporary. And besides…Tara was still waiting on him.

"Yeah, sure,"Jax answered standing up. "He's not much of a conversationalist right now though," Jax joked half-heartedly as he headed for the door.

"But he was always a good listener," Clay said behind him.

Jax stopped short, shutting eyes briefly—summoning the calm he need to _not _react in any way to Clay referring to his father in the past tense. He stole one last glance at his father. _I love you, dad_, he thought. Then he took the final steps towards the door, reaching for the doorknob.

The knob was turning before he'd even gripped it in his hand. The same nurse as before, gently pushed the door open, her expression apologetic as she stood in the threshold, a clipboard in her hand.

"You're Jackson, right?" she inquired, looking into Jax's eyes. When Jax nodded once, she turned her eyes on the older man in the room. "Your name, sir?"

"Clay Morrow," Clay answered, his eyebrows threading together. "What's the problem? Visiting hours over already?"

"Regular visiting hours were over an hour ago, Sir," she explained, looking down at the papers on the board in her hand, "But that's actually not the problem. Mrs. Teller has it down here that the only family allowed to stay overnight are Jackson Teller, Piermont Winston, and Filip Telford...I'm sorry, Jackson," the young woman said, looking back at the teenager still standing near the door, "You're more than welcome to stay the night. I'll even bring you a pillow and some blankets but Mr. Morrow and the young lady you have waiting out in the hallway have to leave now."

"We were all here with him way before visiting hours," Clay argued, pointing at JT. "That's my brother laying in that bed!"

"I'm just following protocol, sir," the nurse answered. "If there's a problem you need to speak with my supervisor. Unfortunately, Mrs. Murphy is gone for the evening so you'll have to wait until tomorrow morning...or you can call Mrs. Teller and have her come approve visitation."

"Where is my mother, anyway?" Jax wondered out loud, looking over at Clay.

"Bakersfield," Clay growled. "Hap's mom just got out of the hospital. She's helping get her settled...supposedly."

"Sir...I'm sorry but I have other patients with visitors that I need to tell the same thing I just told you," the Nurse reasoned. "And Jackson..you're—"

"—I got it," Jax interjected. "I was on my way out anyway."

"Looks like I am, too," Clay muttered, storming past both of them to leave the room.

"Tell Tig I said feel better," Jax called after him, shaking his head.

He didn't know what the Hell that man's problem was.

Clay was there both times his mother lost her shit and attacked the other unwelcome visitor waiting out in the hallway. It didn't take a genius to know that this was _round four _of Gemma Teller pushing to get her way.

She knew he wanted Tara with her—this was about keeping her away.

Gemma was so Hell bent on getting her way that leaving Clay off the list was probably just an oversight.

What the fuck did he have to be upset about?

* * *

Tara pulled the Cutlass to a stop at the curb, car engine still running as she turned to face him. The mischievous grin on her face had Jax smiling before she even open her mouth to speak.

"You know what, Teller?" Tara asked.

"What?"

"I think I'm going to have to start charging you and LJ for gas money," she answered, narrowing her eyes when he chuckled. "Me and Opie are about to form a union for our cab services. It's time to take a stance. No fare, no ride!"

"I have an idea," Jax replied, reaching over to brush her hair out of her face.

"I'm listening." Tara turned her nose up towards the roof of the car, her arms folded across her chest.

"My birthdays in a few weeks," he said. "Gemma thinks it's a secret but I already know I'm getting my bike…."

"hmmmm…" Tara pressed a finger to her bottom lip. "I'm thinking I might like where this is going. What are the terms?"

Jax smirked. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"How many free rides do I get?" Tara asked, grinning.

"There's no limit," Jax answered, his smile just as wide. "You can ride with me anytime you want, babe."

"Until when?"

Jax cocked an eyebrow. "You do understand what _no limit _means, don't you? Miss Know-it-all."

He knew what she meant—he knew exactly what she was getting at.

And he was going anywhere near it, not even with a ten foot pole.

"Oh shut up," Tara quipped, shoving his shoulder.

Lucky for him, she seemed to brush it off.

"You want to come in for a little while?" he asked her, after a moment of them just sitting there, parked in front of his house.

Tara's eyebrows rose. "Do you want your mother to kill me?"

Jax shrugged, smiling. "She's in Bakersfield. I doubt she's coming back any time soon. Besides…it's not like climbing out of windows is new to you."

"_Jerk._" Tara shoved him again when he laughed. "…we have school tomorrow Jax…although I guess you're not coming…"

Jax shook his head. "It's not even niine O'clock," he complained. "Do you even go to bed for two A.M?"

"No."

"Well then what's the problem?"

"Tomorrow is my appointment with the new guidance counselor," Tara explained. "She's supposed to help me with my schedule for next semester and the extra courses I want to take over break. And I didn't finish filling out all the—"

"—appointments can be rescheduled you know," Jax commented, his tone mocking. The death glare she sent in his directions only made him chuckle. "You're always gonna be a nerd. There's no escaping _that. _Do you really have to be a teacher's pet, too? The new guidance chick isn't gonna care if you put your appointment off for another day."

"You don't get it," Tara responded. "And that's not surprising coming from such a slacker."

"Better than being a snob." Jax laughed, ducking as her hand flew out to hit him over his head. "Relax…it's okay, babe. The pretty ones are always stuck up."

"You're so sweet," Tara snarked. "I should give you a backhand slap to go with the compliment."

"Come hang out with me," Jax asked again. "Just for a little while. We can watch a movie…or I can show some more of my sexy dance moves."

Tara snorted. "Let's go with the movie, Mr. two-left-feet."

"Fine," Jax agreed, "but I hope you don't mind watching something you've seen already. I can't remember the last time I bought a new movie._"_

"You mean one that wasn't porn?"

_Precisely._

"I don't watch that shit," Jax lied, the most piss-poor attempt at outrage in his expression.

"_Uh-huh_." Tara pursed her lips. "What's the last flick you bought?"

Jax chewed bottom lip, thinking. "Shit…I don't even remember." Tara gasped. He turned to see her eyes widening, a smile spreading across her face. "What?"

"You're gonna think I'm so lame for this," she started.

"If you say Dirty Dancin I'm withdrawing my invitation."

_And burning the tape as soon as I get in the house._

_Gemma'll just have to get over it._

"Let's watch the Wizard of Oz!"

_I'm gonna fuckin kill Wendy._

Jax glared over at her. "When did she even have time to tell you that shit?"

Tara looked at him like she'd been clubbed over the head. "_Who _told me _what?"_

Her confusion actually looked sincere.

And he wasn't about to tell on himself if it was.

"Nothing," Jax said. Reaching for the keys, he twisted them out of the ignition, pocketing them before sliding out of the car. "Wizard of Oz it is."

"That didn't go like I thought it would," Tara said, as she slammed her door, walking around the car to join him on the sidewalk. "Opie used to pretend he liked it…but you didn't hide how much you hated it."

"It was Tommy's favorite movie," Jax said, as they walked through his front yard. "I didn't _hate_ it…I just got tired of watching the same silly shit over and over and over again."

"Fair enough," Tara replied. "I promise I'll only make you watch it once."

"We can watch it as many times as you want," he told her, as he opened his front door.

_It's not like I'll be paying attention to the movie anyway._

* * *

**|REVIEW| Give feedback/your thoughts...  
**

I'm trying to post a new chapter only once I'm half way through writing/editing the one that comes after it so let me know your take on this one while I'm editing the next. And I'll post it after I hear from you guys! SOA is officially over but I'm happy to stick around here in FF-verse as long as I have a genuine audience for this story. I honestly have no clue when or if part 2 will be or not. Guess I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

**P.S: **The next chapter takes place in Jax room...the whole chapter. #LetTheGoodTimesRoll ;-)


	49. Chapter 45

**A/N: **Because, because, because, because, **_becauseeee_**...because of the wonderful things he does!

To all the reviewers (gently) complaining about the slow burn, or commenting on..._oh you know what?!_ You guys know who you are. I'm trying to meet you guys half way with **this **one and still maintain the storyline and pace I want them to go.

Hope you Enjoy.

\- **Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

It never once occurred to Jax that it might not have been the best idea to bring Tara into his bedroom.

Not when he asked her to stay with him.

Not when they first stepped foot in the house.

Not when they ascended the staircase, or walked down the second story hallway.

Not even when he flicked his bedroom light on.

Then Tara stopped walking as she reached the foot of his bed, staring down at it like it might come to life and take a bite out of her.

His bed was made. Fresh sheets, pillows fluffed and arranged like something out of a real estate magazine. There wasn't a single pair of a sneakers on his floor, not an article of clothing in sight, save for the basket of neatly folded laundry placed on top of his dresser. And the carpet had clearly been vacuumed. Jax always hated it when Gemma invaded his personal space. But at the moment he couldn't have been more happy to have a mother that was such a neat freak.

His bedroom was spotless.

It looked like—

"_Hotel Teller," _Tara said, looking around the room. ""Boy….if your bedroom walls could talk….Maize would probably lose her title as Charming High's biggest gossip."

"There's no way for me to respond to that without stepping on a landmine," Jax mused out loud.

"Fair enough." Tara plopped down on his bed, crossing one leg over the other. "I'm curious….am I the only girl besides Donna who _hasn't _been in your bed? Better yet, give me a ballpark number? Fifteen? Twenty?"

Jax shook his head at her. "It doesn't matter."

Tara pretended to wince. "Yikes!" she exclaimed, looking at the bed she was sitting on. "…I probably shouldn't even be sitting here."

"Those are fresh sheets," Jax said, not realizing what was wrong with the comment until after the fact.

"_Really?" _Tara nodded, pursing her lips. "I hope you did more than change the sheets after Sarah was here. You should have probably scotch guarded your mattress before you—"

"—what the Hell is this, Tara?" Jax interrupted her. "You've been flirting and teasing me all day and now I feel like I'm in trouble when I didn't do anything wrong."

"There's a TV in your living room," Tara noted. "Why'd you bring me up here?"

"It wasn't so you could jump down my throat when I didn't do shit to you," Jax argued. "I'll tell you _that _much!"

"This was a bad idea," Tara said, getting up from the bed. Jax slid in front of her, gripping her shoulders when she moved to head towards the door.

"Tell me what I need to know," he demanded.

"What?"

"You need to learn how to practice all the shit you love preaching to everybody else!" he exclaimed. "I can't read your mind, Tara. So instead of storming off the way you _always_ do…say what's on your mind. I got enough stuff to deal with. I'm not doing this cat and mouse shit with you again. _Talk to me._"

For a moment it looked like she was going to push past him.

It _felt _like it.

But then her shoulders relaxed in his grasp, and a sense of relief washed over him even as she hung her head slightly.

"_We're alone,_" Tara said, looking down at his feet. "It's just you and me….no Opie…or Donna….no Maize and David…no one's here but us."

_No distractions._

_No chance of interruptions…_

Jax's chest tightened as something occurred to him. "You don't trust me?"

Tara shook her head and his heart sank—until she looked up at him.

"I don't trust _myself_…"

_Oh, wow._

"And your solution is to treat me like I'm trying to trap you? Pressure you into something you don't want to do?"

"I know you're not pressuring me, Jax," Tara admitted. It was huge weight lifted off his shoulders when she said it. "…I just feel like you don't really _have_ to….that's the problem."

Jax's eyes locked with hers, Ocean-blue flitting back and forth, scanning the green.

Tara's eyes widened in surprise when Jax abruptly started laughing.

"What the Hell is so funny?"

The harder he laughed, the more confused the young brunette became until finally confusion gave way to annoyance…followed shortly by anger.

"_Whatever." _Tara shoved him aside, headed for the door.

She was in for another surprise when one of his arms circled her back, the other curving under the backs of her knees as he picked her up holding her in his lap as he sat on his bed.

"This is why I _don't _talk to you," Tara huffed, glaring at the shit-eating grin on his face. "You never take me seriously when I try."

"I'm sorry, babe," Jax said, not feeling sorry at all, "but you just kind of made my night…_I didn't know girls could get blue balls, too._"

"What?"

_I thought you were torturing the Hell out of me but all that teasing you're doing is backfiring._

_Ah-ha._

Jax started chuckling again. "You're driving _yourself _crazy, Tara. Don't give me all the credit. You want me just as bad as I want you," he said, shrugging, "but that's something we both already knew."

"You're missing the p—"

Jax shook his head, pressing a finger to her mouth. "—No, I'm not, Tara. But _you are_…or maybe I need to state the obvious. I'm _horny _not _blind. _I didn't miss the way you hesitated when we were in the locker room. I actually thought it was _cute_—"

"—Oh my God! _Shut up!_" Tara buried her tomato-red face in the crook of his neck.

Jax smirked. "It was really was," he continued. "You did the same thing when I tried to kiss you in detention…then that night Ope's house….you _let _me. And then at the party we….every time we go a little bit further and…Tara, _look at me._" Jax brushed her hair aside, cupping her face when she lifter her head. "I will never regret anything I do with you…and I don't want you to regret anything with me either...so it doesn't matter what we're doing or where we're doing it…baby all you gotta do is s_ay when_…okay? I've got experience in almost everything _but _waiting...and I'm not gonna bullshit you by saying it won't be hard...it'll be _hard..._in more than one way..." Tara's mouth twitched at the corners and he found himself smiling with her. "...all that means is I have to actually work for it for once. And you know me, babe…_I'm all about _firsts _these days…._" Hearing her smirk was enough to know he'd successfully "defused the crazy". But seeing her smile at him was icing on the cake. "You want to go watch the movie downstairs?"

Tara shook her head. Sliding out of his lap, she kicked off her shoes before crawling to the top of his bed, leaning back against the pillows. She patted the spot next to her, smiling.

Jax walked towards his television, sliding the tape into the VCR before grabbing the remote. He turned on one of the lamps on either side of his bed before flicking his bedroom light off, crawling over her to the other side of the bed. Tara leaned into him as he wrapped his arms around her, his chin resting on top of her head.

_I could get used to this._

"Just so you know," Tara said, as the opening credits dwindled down, "I plan on singing along to all the songs."

_FUCK MY LIFE._

* * *

_"Toto!...Oh, no, no! I won't let you take him! You….go away, you...! Oooh, I'll bite you myself!"_

Ten minutes.

That's how long he lasted before the proximity of her neck to his lips proved too tempting to resist. By the time Dorothy was fighting for Toto he'd already forgotten the movie completely.

Tara wasn't far behind him.

"_Jax?_"

"Mhmm?" his answer was muffled against the skin of her collarbone as he grazed it with his teeth before placing a trail of hot, wet kisses back up to her neck.

"You're supposed to be watching the movie," she scolded, her voice breathy.

"I _am_," he mumbled, as his fingers roamed up and down her body, groping every curve he could get his hands on. Tara's moan reverberated through him as he gripped her hip, angling her towards him, sucking achingly sweet bruises into the other side of her neck.

"No….you're….not," Tara said. There may have been a touch of reproach in her voice. He could hardly hear it over her heavy breathing or his own racing heart, as she threw her leg over his, pulling him in tighter.

He did hear it though.

Jax pulled back, kissing her forehead before grabbing her hand in his, resting them both on his chest as he wrapped his arm around her like he'd done before. Reluctantly, he turned his head back towards the television.

"What's wrong?" Tara asked, the confusion in her voice making his eyes snap away from the screen again. The response on the tip of his tongue was moot the second he saw the look in her eyes.

"I thought you wanted me to stop," Jax lied, and he was damn proud of himself for keeping a straight face instead of smirking like he wanted to.

Tara surprised him.

Instead of scowling or even looking embarrassed, she leaned over him, grabbing the remote off of the nightstand.

"_Stop," _she said as she pointed the remote at the screen, pressing the button until the screen went black. Then she caught him off guard when she turned, pointing it at him, a playful smile spreading across her face when she said, "_Play."_

_Now this is my kind of fuckin movie._

Jax reached for her so fast, he knocked the remote out of her hand. His hand was threaded in her hair as their tongues danced. He reached for her waist to pull her into his lap, but Tara had other plans. Climbing on top of him, she pushed his back against the bed. The softness of her mouth was everywhere, his lips, his chin, his neck as she worked his shirt open. It proved to be quite a challenge, getting all the buttons unhooked—Jax's own eager hands kept getting in the way.

There was no bra to unclasp.

All he had to was slide his hand underneath her shirt. Tara moaned against his mouth as he kneaded the soft flesh, flicking his thumb over her hardening nipples.

He wanted her closer, wanted to feel all of her against him, no clothing in between.

And when she gave up on unbuttoning his shirt the right way—snatching it open instead, Jax knew she wanted the same thing. He slid up, his back touching the headboard, pulling her shirt over her head as she slid his down off of his shoulders.

Tara threw her head back, moaning as his lips closed around her nipple, suckling it as he lightly pinched the other one, his hands massaging both breasts. The guttural groan climbing up his throat vibrated against her chest every time she rocked her hips, grinding down on his cock. He never stopped alternating between her twin peaks as his hands slid down, one of them palming her ass while the other gripped her hip, pressing her down even harder as his own hips rose to meet hers.

He wanted more—he needed it.

Reaching up, he twisted his fingers in her hair, gently tugging until she tilted her head to meet his gaze. Her eyes were smoldering, her lips kiss-swollen and he could see every mark he'd left all over her neck and chest. The vision made him tongue tied, his mind too scrambled to form the question he asked with his eyes as his fingers curled at the hem of her shorts where the top button and zipper was.

The rapid rise and fall of her chest proved to be very distracting, but he didn't miss it when she nodded her approval, or when the word, "_play_," made its way past her lips again through the teasing smile on her face.

Jax flipped her over on her back, sliding between her thighs. He groaned against her neck as she wrapped her legs around his waist pulling him into her, folding them behind his back. It was hard to untangle them, but he did just that, his mouth a moist, scorching hot trail down her chest, to her belly button. He dipped his tongue into her navel, the way he wanted to do when she tried on that crop top in the mall.

His nails scraped against her skin as he tore his hands from the sides of her shorts to pop the buttons open, tugging them down over her ankles in one fell swoop. Slowly, making his way up, he peppered wet kisses up her legs, suckling the soft, silky skin of her inner thighs with just a hint of teeth. He curled a finger under both sides of her underwear, and he heard her breath hitched in anticipation. Jax let the thin, damp fabric go, letting her Betty-Boop panties snap back against her. Looking up at her, the question in his eyes was mocking—he already knew the answer. Tara looked down at him, her olive eyes begging him to keep going.

But he wanted to hear it—he needed to hear it.

"Tara,_" _Jax said, his breath tickling her thigh, "Can I—"

"—_Yes_, Jax" Tara blurted out. "_Play_."

Her panties were off before the word 'play' left her lips. Jax locked eyes with her as he dipped his head in between her thighs, using two fingers to part her slickness. He rubbed his fingers against her, taking a moment to enjoy the hitch in her breathing before lightly flicking his tongue against her.

One taste—that and the sexiest moan he'd ever heard in his life.

That was all it took.

As soon as Tara arched up off the bed, he hooked his arms under her knees—all of his grand plans, all thoughts of taking his time, learning what to do or how she liked him to do it flew straight out of the window. His mind shut down completely as he nuzzled her pussy, moving his hands to grip her hips as he held her up to his mouth, working her over with his tongue the way he normally did with his fingers. His face seemed to get wetter with every flicker of his tongue against her. Tara cried out, twisting and thrashing in his grip, her fingers tangled in his blonde hair, tugging hard as he sucked on her clit, slurping the throbbing bud in and out of his mouth with every tilt of his head as he switched angles left to right, Frenching the bundle of nerves, his tongue dancing against her sensitive flesh the way he did with her tongue whenever he kissed her.

Dorothy was right—there was no place like home. Jax was right there. And he didn't ever want to leave.

"_Jackkkkson…..that feels _sooo _good," _Tara moaned.

_That's how you taste, baby, _he thought as he lapped at her. _Sooooo good._

He had to remember to tell her—later. At the moment it would take the crowbar someone had mentioned before to pry his face from the sweet spot between her trembling thighs. It was a lost cause, trying to keep her still so he relinquished the grip on her hips, pressing her down against the bed with his face, his mouth latched at her core. One hand reached up to play with her nipples while the other met up with his lips, two fingers sliding in and out of her tight entrance as she bucked against his mouth, moaning louder with every stroke of his tongue her hips rose up to meet.

"Jax_…._oh_, Jackson…_" Jax growled against her. He loved it when she said his name like that. He switched gears, swapping his mouth with his fingers, plunging his tongue inside of her, sliding in and out as he rubbed his thumb against her clit. It was like an earthquake erupting beneath him. He looked up, completely transfixed by the sexy, half-lidded look she was giving him as she bit down on her bottom lip, strangled moans escaping from low in her throat. His blue eyes drank in the ecstasy exuding from her expression while his mouth steadily drank in her juices, lapping at them as she rode out the second orgasm he'd given her, her knees still shaking uncontrollably as he continued to slowly delve his tongue in and out of her.

Watching her come down from the high he gave her was, if possible, even hotter. Her eyes were shut as he took his time kissing his way back up her body until he reached his favorite spot on her neck. Tilting his chin, he sucked her earlobe into his mouth, tugging it lightly between his teeth before whispering in her ear.

_"I love the way you taste_," he confessed quietly. Tara shivered against him, the light tremor coursing through his body as she pulled his head back by his hair, grabbing his face, crushing her lips against his. He was given a moment too short to enjoy the thrashing of her tongue against before she pulled back, her eyes a smoky green as she smiled at him.

"I see _why_," Tara taunted, whispering back.

_Fuck._

Jax bit back a groan, rolling over to lay on his back. Eyes facing up towards the ceiling, he felt Tara shift next to him, smoothing her fingers up and down his chest slowly as she began sucking on his neck. Tucking one arm behind his head, he closed his eyes, replaying everything that'd just happen over in his mind again and again—until he felt her hand on his belt buckle.

His eyes flew open, his face jerking towards her, blue eyes locking with green as she popped the top buttons open, sliding his zipper down. He lifted his hips up as she tugged his jeans down, kicking them off as soon as they reached his ankles. He didn't think it was possible for the throbbing between his legs to increase any more until he took in the view of her crawling her way back up the bed towards him, her long, dark brown locks stopping just shy of her nipples. She was straddling his lap again, with only his boxers between them this time. She caressed his cheeks in her hand, and the image of her face went in and out of focus every time Tara grinded down against him when her lips softly pecked his.

"_What do you want me to do for you?"_

She spoke so softly, he'd barely heard her even through the silence.

He knew exactly what he wanted, and when he pulled back to look in her eyes he knew she had a pretty good idea of what it was. But the expression on her face wasn't teasing, it wasn't wanton or determined like when she pushed him against that bathroom door.

Tara looked nervous—and even worse, _guilty _for feeling that way.

She'd do it.

It wasn't arrogance at all, him knowing she would if he asked. But he didn't want her to do anything because she felt obligated. Standing out on the Hale's front lawn, he'd told her the truth. There was no quid pro quo in mind when he'd asked her. She'd already given him something he wanted—he'd wanted to know what she tasted like. He wanted her to enjoy it even more than he did. He wanted to hear her moan his name over and over. He wanted the privilege of watching her face again as he made her cum, knowing that he'd be the first to do it with his tongue.

Every time he got a little bit further with her.

And each time was even better than the one before it.

"_Jax?"_

It was pathetic how much enjoyed playing in her hair. He pushed the soft strands back, behind her ear. Grabbing her face, he pulled her mouth down to meet his own. Kissing her softly, he slowly rolled her off of him, snaking his arm around her waist as they laid sideways, nose-to-nose.

He could hear her swallow hard as she fixed her mouth to repeat the question.

"What do you—"

"Whatever you want, babe," he answered finally. "…Whatever _you're _ready for..."

Tara's mouth twitched at the corners—and he was glad when her smile completely absolved the worry swirling in the greens of her eyes.

"So…no _fast-forwarding_?" she joked.

Jax chuckled, kissing her again before voicing his agreement. "No fast-forward."

Tara nodded, briefly looking down at the joining of their hands in the tiny space between them on the bed. "But what about—"

Jax crushed his lips to hers, coaxing her mouth open as he freed the fingers intertwined with hers to wrap them around her wrist, placing her hand on his cock. That was all the direction Tara needed as she quickly slipped her hand inside the slit of his boxers, stroking him to the speed and rhythm of her mouth as she sucked on his tongue. She'd pressed play on his new favorite movie, the same mental imagery as before blaring in his brain as he imagined what she was still too scared to do for him.

But then, abruptly, she pulled away from him, releasing him from her grip.

Confusion marred his features as his eyelids flew open—and the fierceness in her expression had his heart beating a bruise against his rib cage. It wasn't just the seductive look in her eyes either. It was the mischievous smile spreading across her face. He didn't know what the Hell she was thinking.

But he knew he'd like whatever it was.

"_Sit up," _Tara instructed.

Immediately, Jax sat upright, rod straight, his back hitting against the chill of the headboard a little too hard (not that he'd notice the pain any time soon.) She curled her fingers into the hem of his boxers and without even thinking about it, his hips rose, allowing her to yank them down past his ankles.

He damn near swallowed his tongue, nearly popped a vessel in his brain as he rushed to find and form the words he needed to ask the question screaming in his head when she crawled her way back up towards him again. Her knees were on either side of his hips as she hovered over his pulsing erection, without a stitch of fabric between them.

Tara giggled suddenly. "You look like you're having a heart attack."

"I might _be," _Jax answered. "Jesus, Tara. What the Hell are you—"

Tara pressed her finger to his lips. "You said whatever I want right?" Jax's answering nod was almost as stiff as his dick. Another giggle escaped her. "There's something I wanted to try…to see if you…"

"_Do it_."

_Yes, to whatever it is. Just do it _right _fuckin now!_

Tara wrapped her fingers around him as she slowly straddled his lap again. Leaning into him, their tongues resumed their slow dance as she kissed him, stroking his cock softly in her hand. Then without warning she rubbed the underside of his shaft against the soaking wet, slickness pooling between her thighs.

"Aw, _fuck!"_

"You like it?" There was laughter in her voice, with just a touch of nerves laced in it.

"Hell yeah, babe," Jax hissed. "Keep doing that shit…._Jesus Christ…"_

He could pinpoint the exact moment her confidence grew. There was nothing timid about the way she slid his cock up and down her slit, rubbing her thumb against the tip as she stroked the head every time his trembling hands guided her hips down. Jax brought a hand down to grip her ass, pushing her harder against him as she rocked back and forth.

This was yet another first for him, and damn it if it didn't make him feel like a fuckin virgin. Jax had never been this close to any girls pussy without penetrating her. He would need more than the fingers on both of his own hands to count how many he'd slept with—and plenty of them enjoyed sliding his dick in between their breasts. But this shit right here…. It was better than any titty-fuck he'd ever enjoyed. He couldn't believe how fuckin good it felt, the clenching in his stomach every time she rose up out of his lap, his cock so close to her tight opening without ever gaining entrance. This was what it really meant to be cock tease, and Tara was welcome to tease his cock like this whenever she wanted for as long as she wanted until she was ready to let him slip inside her, until she was ready for everything he wanted to give to her—to do _with _her. Tara moaned his ear as she picked up speed. She'd stopped all movement in her hand; the only purpose it served was holding him in place as she rubbed herself against him.

"_Shit, _I'm close, Tara," he warned her. Pushing weakly against her stomach, Jax was both grateful and disappointed when she took the hint rolling off of him, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth as she did so. Her hand moved to slide its ways up his chest, but he grabbed her wrist, bringing it right back where he needed it. "Keep stroking me," he told her. "_…._Yeah, just like that….harder, Tara…faster….stroke me real hard and f—_shit….just like that…._now do that thing with my tongue again…" Tara did what he asked, her mouth moving against his as she sucked on his tongue, biting down lightly. As soon as her teeth grazed tip, Jax moaned loudly into her mouth, and she felt him erupt in her hand, drenching the tight fist she had around him as he came.

Jax thought he'd used the last of his energy, pulling her into him, wrapping her up in his arms, her head resting against the heartbeat thumping in his chest.

"_You think I can watch the movie in peace now?"_

He was wrong.

Then he thought the last of it was reserved for the laughter that Tara seemed uncannily adept at coaxing out of him.

He was wrong about that, too.

After a few minutes laying there in silence, he sat up, sliding off the bed. He leaned over, picking the remote up off the floor, pressing play before slipping out of the room. When he came back from the bathroom Tara was sitting with her legs tucked under her at the top of his bed—with nothing on but his shirt, only three of the buttons fastened closed.

_"…..the house began to pitch! The kitchen took a slitch…it landed on the wicked witch in the middle of a ditch!...It was not…"_

Standing in the doorway, he watched her, biting his lip as he did so. Her eyes briefly flitted over to where he was before gliding back towards the TV screen. He stared at her as she sang along with the movie, like the six year old kid he knew she still was at heart.

But he couldn't hear a sound—not until he picked the remote up from the bed, pointing it towards the screen again.

Tara looked over at him, her mouth freezing just as he pressed the button with the black square in the middle of it.

"_Stop_," he said, as the TV screen faded to black again. Then he pointed it at her, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Sorry, babe….but I'm gonna have to press _rewind."_

Dropping the remote on the floor, he grabbed her by her ankles, yanking her down to the edge of the bed, kneeling between her thighs. He hadn't thought she'd put her panties back on. It didn't matter though. Jax made quick work of sliding them off of her, her giggle from being pulled down morphing into a throaty moan as he kissed his way up her inner thighs, all the way to his favorite spot. It didn't take long for his tongue to reach home. There was really no place like it.

And when his lips puckered against her clit...

_Oh, _what happened then was rich….

* * *

**Don't ever say I don't keep your thoughts/requests in mind when I'm writing this for ya!**

**P.S. **I'll be pulling from some s4 events (soon) possibly much like my early intro of Kohn...I know what happens overall...Just a matter of seeing where everything fits &amp; how.

In the mean time... _what were your favorite parts? lines? _All thoughts are welcomed and encouraged.

**|REVIEW|...**or I'll drop a house on you! lmao :-P

oh and **FYI **this wasn't originally a part of the storyline. I wrote it in between for you guys that keep requesting; even though it meshes well &amp; actually does fit with the plot I've planned out it still reads like a one-shot, in **my **opinion so I think I'll post it with the other one-shot (REMINDING YOU) I did since I may make that story a series of random _saucy _moments with them.


	50. EXTRASODE: The Vow

**A/N: **Children say the darnedest things, don't they?

**EXTRASODE: **"The Vow."

**\- Veritable Old LADY Crow**

* * *

_"What the heck is wrong with your brother?" Tara asked as they walked through her bedroom door._

_Sarah Hale kicked the ballet slippers on her feet off at the foot of her bed. Walking towards the walk-in closet on the other end of the room, she came to a stop in front of a large vanity mirror. _

_Pulling the bouncy, honey blonde curls on her head to one side, she looked up at her best friend, smirking at the puzzled expression on Tara's face as she stood behind her, waiting._

_"Which brother?" Tara could tell by the mischievous glint in her gray eyes that she already knew which brother._

_"_David_," Tara answered. "Every time I say hi to him he turns red as a friggin tomato and runs in the other direction. He doesn't still think girls have cooties, does he?"_

_Sarah giggled, shrugging her shoulders. "Davey's just being Davey."_

_"Is he like that with other girls?" Tara wondered out loud._

_Sarah continued to pull at her elbow-length hair, flipping it back and forth between either side of her face to see which way she wanted to pin it. "What other girls? You're the only girl that's ever around besides me...and he knows _I _don't have cooties."_

_"You should pin it on the left side," Tara suggested, walking closer to stand behind her in the mirror. "That way you can see your dimple when you smile."_

_"Good idea." Sarah nodded, smiling at her friend through the mirror as she did what she advised. "Boys loves girls with dimples."_

_Tara rolled her eyes. "Who cares what they like? It's about what _you _like 'Rah. Boys don't even know what the heck they like. Opie swears he likes the Wizard of Oz when you know he's just saying it cuz _you _like it. I think that's so silly. Why do you have to pretend to like something or do stuff just because you like someone? I don't care how much I like a guy, I'm not pretending him making arm farts is funny just so he'll like me back. That's gross! And Jax didn't even wash his hands._ Yuck!"

_Sarah turned away from the mirror to face her, one eyebrow raised as she placed a hand on her hip. "So you were lying before...you _do _like Jax!"_

_Tara shook her head. "Stephanie Eglee does," she told her. "That's why she was laughing so hard...and then she held hands with him after."_

_"Stephanie didn't kiss him though," Sarah challenged._

_Tara shrugged. Turning around, she walked over to Sarah's bed, plopping down on it. "Jax kisses girls all the time just like you said. It's like he's having a contest with Opie to see who can kiss the most!"_

_Sarah moved to sit down next to her, folding her legs underneath her. "So you don't like him...not even a _little_ bit?"_

_Tara's green eyes narrowed. "Why do you keep asking me that? Is this about the kiss?"_

_"You admitted you liked it," Sarah accused._

_Tara's cheeks turned red as she moved to tuck her hair behind her ear. "It's not like I have anything to compare it with. I mean...it was...I don't know what it was. And I only said that so you'd quit asking me how it was! Why do you care so much anyway. It's not like _you _haven't kissed him. I'm not accusing _you_ of liking him!"_

"I'm in love with him."

_Tara__ burst into a fit of giggles, poorly muffled by the hand she slapped over her mouth. __"Do you even know what love_ is?_"_

_A small, almost ethereal smile spread across Sarah's face. "...It's when you can't stop thinking about someone...when they always make you smile and stuff."_

_The brunette's green eyes widened. "Umm...okay."_

_"Is that how you feel about Jax?"_

_Tara groaned. "_Saraaahh!"

_"I'm being serious, Lady Tee," Sarah persisted. "Best friends have to talk about this stuff. And _I'm_ being honest with _you_."_

_"_Fine_..." Tara's eyes flitted up towards the frilly, powder pink curtains of Sarah's canopy bed as she thought.  
"_No," s_he said after a moment. "..._.._I mean we smile at each other and stuff but I don't think about him unless he's there. I don't think about anybody really..." A wide, faraway smile spread across her face. "...it's way more fun to imagine things that could never really happen...like talking animals...like _Babe_...or that I can move stuff with my mind like Matilda..._make a grandfather clock fall on my daddy's fat head!_"_

_Sarah's laughter sobered up a lot faster than Tara's. "I think about him all the time...and when my mom took us to Funtown...we held hands on all the rides."_

_"So what...he's your trueee love?" Tara teased, still giggling._

_Instead of laughing, Sarah's expression grew serious. "He might be," she said, with a barely perceptible shrug of her shoulders. "...but you can only have _one..._he can't be yours _and _mine..."_

_Tara wrinkled her nose. "I don't know what type of kiss you thought it was but Jackson is not my love_ anything. _I just like hanging out with a boy who can beat your stupid brother Jacob up. He's even letting me learn to fight with him..I can't wait to test out my moves on Ricky next time he says girls talk too much!"_

_Sarah rolled her eyes, shaking her head at the suddenly animated brunette sitting on the bed in front of her. "You're not supposed to fight with boys Tara. You're supposed to get them to like you so they'll do stuff for you."_

_Tara pursed her lips. "Like what?"_

_"...Like buy you candy...and walk you home...and they fight_ for _you so you don't have to."_

_"And what do _we _have to do?" Tara's eyebrow rose._

_"Nothing really." Sarah smirked. "We wear__ nice dresses and do our hair pretty and behave like ladies are supposed to."_

_"That sounds..._sooo boring!" _Tara scowled. "God gave girls hands just like boys. And ours are smaller which means we can hit even faster...and...and you know I hate it when people have to buy me stuff..."_

_"I know, Tee," Sarah said. Pulling her legs from underneath her, she slid closer to her on the bed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "..it's okay though. Things with your dad...it'll get better and if not...my mom doesn't care how many sleepovers I have as long as we stay out of her club meetings and stuff."_

_Tara tried for a smile, managing a small one. "I think my mom picked the wrong guy to look pretty for."_

"_Well we won't," Sarah said. "...and I didn't..." Sarah stood up from the bed, looking towards the large bay window on the other side of her bedroom. "...at least I don't think I did."_

_"_Wow." _Tara said, getting up to stand with her. "You really like him a lot, huh?" Sarah turned, nodding at her. "Well...if you want I can ask him if he likes—_" _Tara stopped mid-sentence when the honey-blonde quickly shook her head.__  
_

_"I can handle, Jax," Sarah said, her voice bursting with confidence. "That's not what I need you to do, Tee."_

_"Okay." Tara replied. "What do you need then?"_

_"A promise."_

_Tara's eyes narrowed in confusion, her eyebrows scrunching together. "Like a pinky promise?"_

_Sarah rolled her eyes, sighing. "We're too old for that, Tee. You have to make a vow. Like a sacred one or whatever. You have to hold your hand up."_

_Tara raised her left hand the way she'd seen her father do the last time she'd watched him court. "Like _this_?"_

_Sarah pursed her lips. "I think it's the other one," she corrected, smiling affirmatively when Tara switched to raising her right hand. "Okay...that's how it looked in the movie."_

_"You been sneaking your moms tapes again?"_

_"Focus, Tee!"_

_"Alright. Fine," Tara stood up straight, determination on her face. "__What's my sacred promise?"_

_"You said __you're not in love with Jax right?"_

_"Duh."_

_"__That's means you accept him as_ my _true love."_

_"__You sure you don't want it to be Opie?" Tara teased, laughing when Sarah narrowed her eyes. "...okay...okay...fine. Jax is your prince. Is that the vow?"_

_Sarah shook her head. "You have to swear he's mine forever."_

_Tara looked confused again. "Shouldn't_ he_ be the one doing that? I thought the guy was supposed to...like remember in**—**"_

_"_Tara!"

_When Sarah called her 'Tara' instead of Lady Tee, she meant business._

_"Okay. Sheesh. What do I say?"_

_Sarah chewed her bottom lip, uncertainty crossing her face. "I'm not sure."_

_She really wasn't._

_Lucky for her, Tara—ever the know-it-all—always had an idea._

_"How about _this." _Tara cleared her throat. "I, Tara Grace Lady Tee Knowles swear to never ever hold hands with Jackson Teller at funtown!"_

_"Or kiss him again," Sarah added, smiling at her._

"He_ kissed _me,_ you know," Tara pointed out—probably for the millionth time, if one went by the way Sarah rolled her eyes._

_"Tara!" Sarah glared._

_"Or kiss him," Tara continued, smirking. "...or let him walk me home...or eat his candy..._unlesss..._I steal it out of his basket when he's not looking..." __Sarah gasped. _

_"...or let him fight for me!" Tara continued, oblivious to the shocked look on Sarah's face as she went off on a sudden rant. "...as a matter of fact the next time Porky says something about my mom it's my sacred vow to punch him in his pie hole_ myself_! Jax says I hit hard anyway...and not just for a girl. Even Opie—"_

_"—I _knew _it was you!" Sarah shrieked, cutting her off. "Y__ou took all his reeses buttercups! He blamed _me! _That's how my princess costume got ruined. He pulled the bow off!"_

_Tara giggled. "The bow was bigger than your butt...he kinda did you a favor 'Rah."_

_"Eating all that chocolate didn't do you any favors," Sarah taunted. "Be careful Tee, or we'll be calling you Porky, too!"  
_

_Guilt replaced the haughty expression on Sarah's face when she saw Tara frown. "I'm just joking, Tee...and don't worry I won't let you get fat...and even if you do...you'd be the prettiest fat girl around...right after my_ mother...the biggest cow of all!"

_Both girls giggled._

_"Saraaahh," Tara complained afterwhile. "My arm's getting tired. Are we done?"_

_Sarah stared at her, a finger on her mouth as she considered the question. "One more thing."_

"Thank God," _Tara gushed. "What?"_

_"...you will never love him," Sarah answered._

_Tara cocked an eyebrow. "That's...a little dark..."_

_"S__ay it."_

_Tara shrugged. "...and I will never love him."_

_Sarah shook her head. "__You have to say his name..."_

_Tara sighed, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. "_I will never love Jackson Teller."

_Sarah beamed at her best friend. "Okay. Good."_

_"That's it?" Tara wondered. "We don't have to do like a spit on our hand and shake thing?"_

_Sarah twisted her face up like she swallowed a lemon. "Gross...I swear you're such a boy sometimes."_

_Tara giggled. "I was gonna wash my hands after. What boy would do that?"_

_Sarah joined in with her. "I guess you're right."_

_"I'm always right," Tara joked. "Can we go spy on Gloria now?"_

_"Why do you care what my mom's stupid book club is talking about?"_

_"__They're reading something good this month. It has romantic scenes in it and stuff too..."_

_Sarah's interest was peaked the second she heard the word 'romantic'._

_"Let's go!" Sarah grabbed Tara's hand and they both tiptoed out into the hallway, sliding down to the floor when they reached the banister of the staircase. "...If we get caught...this was _your _idea, Tee."_

_"All the ideas that get us in trouble are mine...even when they're _not," _Tara accused, sticking her tongue out._

_Hand in hand they sat there against the wall, listening._

"Sir Broderick sounds soooo steamy...you guys remember the chapter when they we're in his fathers study and..."

_Psstt. _

_Sarah turned away from the stairs, to look at the brunette on the floor behind her. "What?"_

_"I'll never love Jax...but I'll always love you, Rah."_

_The widest smile spread across Sarah's face, her gray eyes twinkling as she wrapped Tara up in a tight hug.__ "I love you too, Tee."_

_"Best friends forever, right?"_

_Sarah shook her head._ "Sisters."

* * *

**A/N: **I've been mulling over how to get rid of Sarah in a way that makes sense given she's only been back a friggin week lol. I was watching my baby cousin interact with her friends and it made me nostalgic as I thought about the shit me and my friends used to say and how ridiculous it probably sounded to all the adults, even teenagers around us.

Anyway...I'm closing out her arc in this next chapter. I'm not going the lame route, killing her off (despite how much I'm sure some of you would cackle madly at that!) but she's definitely signing off with a bang that sets the other arcs/plots in motion.

**|REVIEW|** folks. Let me know your thoughts/feedback, etc while I chase my muse down for a way to finish the early sections of **CH46** now that I've written the end of it.


	51. Chapter 46

**A/N: **Y_es_, people. I am well aware of just how much you all hate her...but this chapter was a necessary evil. **CH46 **is told from Sarah's **POV.**

_However!_

There are multiple flashbacks...

Apologies if the writing flow is a little choppy.

This is the very same **SUNDAY**...with a series of flashbacks that are **Jax &amp; Tara **centric for those who've asked for a little more background. I will eventually flashback to the exact moment Tara decided to walk away three years ago...but **not **at this point in the story.

**P.S: **Bad ass Tara is coming y'all! And Jax is about to _officially _be a *biker* prince...and **more **(wink, wink).

Cat fights? _check_. Raunchy romance? _Gotcha_. I take **every **comment I see in the review section into consideration. It's all in play. You just gotta bare with my rambling nature &amp; inability to speed through the plot without it all fitting into a nice bow.

**\- Veritable Old LADY Crow**

* * *

**SUNDAY, 2:30 p.m**

"...Oh fuck...yeah...aw _shit, _that's it...just like that, Sarah...ride my—"

"—_Kyle!"_

It wasn't until she stopped moving that Kyle opened his eyes, tilting his head forward to stare at the honey-blonde straddling his lap.

"What's wrong, Darlin?" His voice was strained, one hand squeezing her hip as if the action would get her to resume her the slow grinding of her hips as she rode on his cock..

_Ugh. Enough with the _Darlin _shit. I'm starting to see what Tara means..._

"You didn't answer me," Sarah said, one eyebrow raised expectantly.

"About what?" Kyle looked miserable—confusion swirled in his glazed over eyes, his mind to preoccupied with what she'd _stopped_ doing to focus on what she wanted him to do.

Which was answer the question he'd never even heard her ask.

"You said Jax wasn't at the hospital."

Kyle swiped a hand across his forehead. "I don't where he is, Sarah," he lamented. "I left when he said he didn't need a ride anymore."

"Who'd he leave with? Opie? Did he seem...okay?"

"He's _fine_," he assured her. Running his hands through her thick curls, Kyle kissed her lips. "His Old man's hanging in there, too..._Now_..." He grabbed a hold of her hips, his own rising up as he attempted to once again initiate her earlier rotation.

Finally, Sarah obliged, slowly grinding down against him. Wrapping her arm around his neck, his face was buried in the crook of hers—she stared absently up at the ceiling as he groaned in her ear, her mind in another place as she fucked him.

After a while his moaning grew too loud to tune out.

He was close to getting off.

And she was no where close to getting all the information she wanted.

"You said he left with Opie?" When he didn't answer, she stopped moving—again.

_I hope they didn't really believe I called the cops on them._

_I was just fuckin with Tara...it was Jake's fat ass._

"_What?" _Kyle barked in frustration.

"Who'd he leave with?"

"I don't know if he left at all!" Kyle exclaimed. "When _I _left he was still in the lobby with Piney..." Kyle paused for a second, a wry smile spreading across his face as he considered something.

His moment of thinking with the actual head on his shoulders didn't go unnoticed.

"What?"

"He's probably with Tara," Kyle answered, smirking to himself. "I wish I could say I don't know what he sees in that snobby chick...but _mann..._she's fuckin _hot_...those legs man...and her eyes..."

_Un-fuckin-believable._

"Are you freakin kidding me?" Sarah glared at him. "You think you can focus on the girl you're inside of? _Seriously, _what is everyone's obsession with that pale, skinny _bitch_?"

Kyle cocked an eyebrow at her. "I thought she was your best friend?"

_Yup._

_That's why I loveee hearing about her when _I'm _the one with your dick inside me._

_And why I loveee hearing her name when _I'm _the one on my fuckin knees._

Even if Tara—still—was her BFF, did he really think she wanted to hear about her right now?

"_Sure_," Sarah sneered, sarcasm dripping from her voice. "...and you're the best sex I ever had."

Kyle shook his head, eyes narrowing at the girl on top of him. "Jax must carry that title the way you keep asking me about him...while you're riding _my _dick."

"Little word of advice," Sarah hissed, her gray eyes narrowing to slits. "If the girl you're fuckin has time to think about someone else you're not doing a good job."

Kyle's face turned red, nostrils flaring. "Sorry, _Darlin_," he said. "It's kinda hard to focus on you _and _the fantasy running through my head about your best friend _Tara._"

Sarah's chuckle was nasty as she lifted off of him, climbing off the stuffy dorm room's bed.

"Enjoy your fantasy, _prospect_," Sarah said, picking her panties off the floor. "You a_nd _your hand, too. Fuckin her in your mind is the closest you'll ever get to the virgin princess." Lifting up, she slid her panties back on before reaching before sliding one foot into her sandal, hobbling across on the cast wrapped around her other one. Looking back at him, her voice was laced with venom, her gray eyes chilled. "You can finish yourself off...like _I_ had to do last night."

"Don't worry Sarah. He'll get tired of her..._eventually." _Sarah turned back around, stopping short as she reached for the door knob, pulling the dorm room door open. "...and then it'll be my turn to make my _fantasy _a reality...I could have tapped that already if I didn't think Prince Charming would stir shit up with me and his_ daddy's_ club. She might not have a list as long as yours but that bitch Tara is far from innocent. The way Jax is chasing after her? She must _really _know how to ride a dick..._shit..._she might even be better than _you._..I guess that must bum you out, huh?...knowing your BFF is better than you at the one thing you're actually good for. _Well..._If it makes you feel any better, you're still the best head I ever had. And that's the _truth...hmmm..._I wonder if that'll change when I get Tara on her knees. You girls really are s_uckers _for outlaws and harleys..."

Sarah had no words.

No defense, no slick come back, no retort that would suffice for what she was feeling.

All she had was her temper—the anger making her face red-hot, tremors coursing through her, making her whole body quiver and shake in a way that only _one _guy was ever able to accomplish. Quickly, she turned away, the whole while fighting the urge to launch herself back across the room and kick Kyle in his smug, stupid face.

If she didn't already have a sprained ankle she probably would have.

Sarah Hale did _not_ come back to Charming expecting this shit.

Her best friend moved on.

Tara didn't even miss her at all—replaced her with the guy whose heart she'd broken.

Him and his annoying midget girlfriend.

She wasn't the It girl anymore.

Not to the people who mattered.

Everyone who _did _matter was obsessed with the girl who used to run behind her, hang onto her every word—the girl who'd managed to come into her own despite her deadbeat father and no one to remind her that eating an extra slice cake wouldn't make him sober...and that she _really _didn't need it.

Charming, California and all the residents of her generation, even the ones before it had all done a complete one-eighty.

There was only one person that treated her the same way he always did.

He treated Tara the same way, too.

_Jax._

Kyle and every one else thought the infamous Jackson Teller had finally met a girl that truly gave as good as she got—even better than _her._

They thought that Charming High's resident panty dropper had finally met his match.

And maybe he had.

But Sarah knew the truth.

Jax wasn't lost in tight pussy, or a warm mouth with no gag reflex.

She'd had front row seats to the Tara-Jaxathon since elementary school—back when she thought that swearing Tara off of him would be enough.

Whether Jax was willing to admit it or not, it wasn't about the chase.

It wasn't about sex at all.

It was a_lways _about more than that.

And she was old enough to know that no adolescent sacred vow would make a damn bit of difference.

* * *

**_3 years ago..._**

_"Maybe if we told her she'd understand why her father is the way he is," Sarah said quietly. "...maybe Arthur knows the truth and that's why**—**"_

_"What truth, Sarah?" Jax argued, sitting up. He angled his body towards her, the sheet rustling around them as he propped himself up on his elbow. "We don't even know if it's _true_."_

_Sarah rolled her eyes. "She_ said _it, Jax. We heard—"_

_"—two women mouthing off trying to piss the other one off," Jax interjected. "She could have been lying to get under Gemma's skin."_

_"She's _my_ best friend, Jax," Sarah declared. "I'm going to tell her if I want to."_

_Jax shook his head. "You're going to hurt her Sarah. It'll make her life harder then it already is."_

_"It'll make it _easier," _Sarah said, disagreeing. "She'll finally stop feeling like she has to take care of that loser she calls daddy and she'll be free to...she won't feel guilty about..."_

_"What?"_

_"Nothing."_

I'll tell you when it's official.

_"It'll make it worse," Jax insisted. "...instead of one fucked up parent she'll have_ three_. Arthur gets drunks and throws shit at her, Piney's lived next door to her pretty much _forever_ leaving her to_ deal _with it, and if that's not messed up enough...she finds out her mother was a liar...and a cheater. She'll find out that her mom is the reason she's miserable now. _That's_ going to hurt the most. _Trust me_. I know she's like a sister to you, Darlin but I_ know _Tara. Don't tell her."_

She won't be _like_ a sister for long, _Sarah thought, barely containing her excitement._

_Jax picked up on it, his eyebrows rising. "What are you smiling about?"_

_"I was just wondering," Sarah lied, pushing him back, climbing on top of him. "What's in it for me...if I do what you want?"_

_"What do you want?" Jax smirked, pulling at the tight curls of her hair.. Sarah reached for his hand._

_As she slowly moved it down her body, Jax's eyes grew wide._

_Sitting up straight, his back bumping against the headboard, the abrupt movement bucked Sarah off of him as he slid off the bed, looking down at the sheets._

_The only word that could aptly describe his expression was _horrified.

_"What the _fuck?"

_Sarah followed his line of vision, the confusion swirling in her gray irises quickly morphing into shock as she eyed all the red drenched into the mint-green sheets._

_"You had sex with me on your period?" Jax accused, his face twisting up in disgust._

_"No, of course not!" Sarah gasped. "That's disgusting!"_

_"Then what the Hell—"_

_"That's what happens when it's your first time," Sarah told him quietly. "...to _some_ girls anyway."_

_"But...you...you said it _wasn't _your first time. You said_ Kyle**—**"

_Sarah's mouth turned up at the corners. "I'm going to take it as a compliment that you couldn't tell."_

_Jax didn't return her smile. He looked spooked. "Why would you lie about something like that?"_

_Sarah shrugged. "I didn't want you making a big deal out of it."_

_"Girls _always_ think it's a big deal," Jax accused, skepticism etched all over his face. "You trying to tell me _you _don't?"_

_It was the most loaded question ever._

_And no matter how she answered it, once she _did _she couldn't take it back._

_As out of character as it was...Sarah decided to try going with honesty._

_"Jax...I..."—_love you.

_She wanted to say it. She was terrified but she had to tell him. She couldn't pretend this was just her 'wanting to get it over with' like she was some guy embarrassed that he was the last of his friend's to have sex._

_He had to know how she truly felt about him—she had to tell him._

_Jax's eyes darted from the bed back up to Sarah, his expression growing more worried the longer she sat there struggling to get the words out._

_He almost looked like he knew._

_But he couldn't know._

_Boys didn't notice that type of stuff until you drew a circle _around_ it, held a candle _over_ it, and pointed directly _at_ it, saying_ 'there it is!'.

_Sarah didn't want him to already know._

_Because if he did... that meant the regretful...painfully sympathetic expression on his face wasn't a good thing._

_"I wish you would have told me, Darlin," Jax admitted. "I wouldn't have…I mean I wouldn't let..._Jesus_….Why would you lie about something like that, Sarah?"_

_The front door opened and slammed shut downstairs, making both teenagers jump._

"Shit!"

_"Your dad's back?"_

_"My dad's still in Ireland," Jax said shaking his head. "It's Gemma…._Shit_…she wasn't supposed to be back until tonight...she's gonna kick my ass for having a girl in her house…..and these_ sheets...Shit!"

_The way he moved?_

_Michael Jackson couldn't dance that fast._

_His jeans and shirt were on, his boxers and the empty condom wrapper were kicked underneath his nightstand._

_Sarah's clothes were pushed into her arms._

_Leaning across the bed, Jax quickly pulled his comforter up, flattening over the stained sheets._

_"You're not afraid of heights are you?" Jax questioned as he arranged his pillows at the top of the poorly made up bed._

_"I am _not _climbing out of your window!"_

Jerk.

_"You gotta hide then."_

_Sarah's eyes widened. "You seriously gonna make me hide in the closet?"_

_"I was gonna say under my bed," Jax admitted. "I like your idea bett—"_

_"_Jackson?"

_The voice carrying through his locked bedroom door wasn't Gemma Teller's._

_It was Tara's._

_"Since when does she have a key to your house?" Sarah whispered, as Jax backed her into the closet even faster._

_"The front doors usually always unlocked when we're home."_

_"_What?_"_

_"You name me one person in this town that's _stupid_ enough to break into _my_ father's house?"_

_"Okay, but it's just Tara," Sarah urged. "Why am I—"_

_"Shhhhhh!" Jax reached for the outside handle of the closet door._

_"Are you freakin kidding—"_

_"I'm serious, Sarah," Jax warned. "Be quiet."_

_Jax pushed the closet door shut on the outraged expression on Sarah's face._

_Sarah had zero intention of doing what he asked._

_Not until, he opened his bedroom door._

_Not until she saw the puffiness around Tara's eyes, the tear stains on her face._

"What's wrong?"

_Sarah wanted to know the same thing._

_And it was waiting to hear the problem...a problem she'd come to _Jax _with instead of_ her_ that kept her rooted where she stood...for the moment._

_"I can't find Sarah anywhere," Tara said, swiping the sleeve of her sweater across her face._

_"What happened?" Jax asked, ignoring the fact that he wasn't actually the first person she'd come to._

_"_Here," _Tara said. Reaching inside the bag in her hand, she pulled a large T-shirt out of it, handing it to Jax._

_As Jax held the white tee up, the _|SAMCRO| _logo printed across was clear to Sarah even through the back of the shirt._

_"I told you, you could keep it," Jax told her._

_Tara shook her head. "My dad doesn't like it. He told me to take it off and when I asked him _why..._..I never seen him get that mad before."_

_Jax brought a hand up to her face, the pad of his thumb brushing against the tear rolling down. Tara winced at the contact at the exact moment, her moved his face closer to hers, finally noticing the bruising on her cheek._

_Now that she knew where to look, Sarah could see it, too._

_Arthur Knowles was a real bastard._

_She'd be glad when Tara didn't have to deal with him anymore._

_"He _hit _you?" Jax barked, his nostrils flaring._

_"I'm fine, Jax." Tara backed away from his hand._

_"_He _won't be," Jax promised._

_Tara shook her head. "I didn't come here for that," she told him. "...when I went by Sarah's she wasn't there..."_

I'm right here, _Sarah started to say. But something told her not to._

_Something told her to hold off on telling Tara that her dad could go fuck himself...that she didn't need him anymore._

"_Her mom asked me to...and then when I went in...I saw them..."_

_"You saw what, Tara?"_

_"_Adoption papers."

_She knew._

_But if she knew...why didn't she look happy?_

"..._I don't know what to do, Jax...I _hate _this...I don't want to disappoint Gloria or Sarah...but I can't just leave my dad...and I don't _want_ to stay with my dad because he's awful...and selfish and mean..."_

_"He's an angry drunk...an _asshole_."_

_Tara nodded. "But he's still my daddy...and I love him.. I just wish he still loved me...like he used to before..."_

_"Tara...please don't get mad at me for saying this...but _fuck him_...you should do whatever's gonna make you happy...and I'm not gonna pretend I'm a fan of the Hales either. except for Sarah I don't trust any of them...but if they want you to be a part of their family...I know you miss your mom...but it's good that you still have people in your life that love you. Focus on that."_

Not bad, Teller, _Sarah thought, nodding her approval even though he couldn't see her._

_"You think the Hales love me?" Tara smiled. Small or not, it was still a smile. "Even porky?"_

_Jax smirked. "Probably...If he doesn't that's only because he's too busy being a jerk...and eating."_

_"Maybe _he _loves me the most," Tara joked. "And that's why he's such an ass. Isn't that what you guys do when you like a girl? Make them miserable?"_

_Jax rolled his eyes. Brushing her hair behind her ear. "Some of us are dumb enough to fall for the girl that makes_ us_ miserable…not _me_ of course…I don't do the whole_ falling _thing. And no matter who it is, I_ always _make the ladies smile._"

Always the Prince...

_Tara shook her head, her smile widening a little more, getting just a little closer to reaching her eyes. "Focus on the people that love me...that might be the first mature thing to ever come out of your mouth, Jackson Teller."_

_"You should probably listen to my sage advice then...you know..since I give it out so rarely..."_

_"Whatever, Teller."_

_Jax pulled her into a hug, kissing her cheek before pulling back to grin at her. "Everything's gonna be alright, Darlin."_

_Without any warning at all, Tara drew her hand back, punching him in his_ arm—_not like a girl either._

_"What the Hell, Tara?!"_

_Tara giggled. "I was reading Diane's old psychology book..."_

_"Of _course_ you were." Jax winced, rubbing his arm._

_"Theirs this chapter about _conditioning," _Tara explained. "Positive and negative reinforcement...I figure if I take a swing at you every time you call me _Darlin _you'll stop doing it."_

_"I want to call you something else right about now..." Jax's glared held up for three seconds...maybe._

_"Your best friend?" Tara taunted._

No. _I'm _your best friend, _Sarah felt like shouting._

_"I don't know..." Jax answered, throwing an arm over her shoulder. "Do best friends play cards? Race each other to the park? Make fun of all the people who walk past the bench they're sitting at?"_

_Tara pretended to think about it, before a genuine smile spread across her face. "All of the above."_

_"Best friend it is then," Jax said, pushing her out of the room. "I'll meet you outside. Just let me get my sneakers."_

_Sarah's hand was already on the closet door handle when he shut his bedroom door behind her._

_But Jax didn't even look in her direction._

_He knelt down on the floor, pulling his sneakers—the sneakers he really_ did _have to get—sliding them on his feet before quickly rushing out of the room._

_Jax wasn't being rude._

_He wasn't trying to hurt her feelings._

_He wasn't even ignoring her—she could tell._

_Tara had shown up._

_And just like every other time...he'd completely forgotten she was there._

_Innocent or not—it fuckin hurt like Hell._

* * *

**SUNDAY, 5:15 p.m**

"You're a conniving _bitch."_

Sarah's eyes rolled up towards the sky as she shut her car door, making her way past her older brother, walking up the path in the middle of her front lawn.

"Good afternoon to you, too, Jacob," Sarah commented dryly, without even looking in his direction. "How's your buddy Kyle doing?"

"Not as good as _your _Kyle I'm guessing," Jacob snarked, following after her. "Is there anyone in town you haven't fucked?"

"That's a lot of judgement coming from the guy getting townie bitches pregnant in parking lots," Sarah snarked. Jacob grabbed a hold of her arm, violently jerking her around.

"What the fuck is your problem, Jake?!" Sarah shrieked, rubbing her arm after yanking it out of his grip.

"_You," _Jacob spat. "You're always the problem around here. I don't why dad let you come back. All you _do _is cause trouble. And you can't even be loyal to the people who have your back."

"_Awww_...you have my back, Jakey?" Sarah crooned, her voice sickly sweet.

Jacob shook his head. "Not anymore," he told her. "You're dead to me."

"Ouch." Sarah feigned a wince of pain. "You wanna hurry up and tell me what I did so I can pretend I give a shit?"

"You told the cops Kyle Tanner was dealing coke," Jacob accused. "I know it was _you. _No one else had anything to gain. They searched his dorm room. They collared his ass and now his asshole father has him trading the names of all his buyers for leniency."

_Maybe he should learn the meaning of the word_ _NO._

_And not to involve the police in anything when he knows he's got his own dirt._

Sarah smirked. "I guess it's a good thing _your _father's the county judge. _Relax. _The Judge isn't gonna let anything happened to you. I doubt they'll even put you in handcuffs."

"That's not the point, _tramp," _Jacob snapped. "Mom had him search my room...he's sending me to fuckin rehab...for a drug addiction I _don't _have. This is all your fault. You and your obsession with a guy that doesn't even give two shits about you. Or was it _Opie? _I know it wasn't about Tara. Seems like she's a little too popular for your taste. I guess it was okay if she stole your mother from you...so long as she didn't steal your favorite—"

"You shouldn't have called the cops on them!"

_It doesn't matter how stuck up and judgemental she is,_ Sarah thought to herself. _Or__ that's she the biggest cock tease ever to live. Not even _Tara _deserves to have some guy forcing himself onto her. __Jax and Harry...well _Opie..._they did exactly what they were supposed to do._

"You shouldn't care _what _I do to them!" Jacob yelled. "None of them give a shit about you! Not even Opie and that idiot used to run behind you like a fuckin puppy...you have burned...every bridge...and sooner or later David's gonna bail on you, too."

"This shit is on _you_," Sarah hissed through her teeth. "...don't you dare try to blame _me..._if you were smart you wouldn't have kept it in your room where they could find it. I didn't rat _you_ out."

"It doesn't matter," Jacob argued. "This happened _because _of you...you and your obsession with that Teller asshole."

Sarah crossed her arms over her chest. "You done?"

"_Here," _Jacob said. Sarah flinched, squeezing her eyes shut as he tossed something in her face. She looked down at the ground, staring at the white powder packed into the thumb bags on the lawn next to her foot. "That's the rest of the stash they didn't find...try not to overdose this time...or maybe you _should. _Maybe then dad'll let me off the hook. Seems like the judge can only ever focus on one child at a time...and we all know who his favorite is...He's looking for you, by the way," Jacob added, walking away from her. "...came home early _just_ for you. Probably bought you a pony..."

Sarah laughed, shaking her head as she turned to resume her path towards the front doors of her house.

Knowing her father, he probably did.

* * *

**CONFESSION: **Closing out Sarah Hale's arc totaled up to...wait for it...10,000 words! (including flashbacks OMG)...I _had _to chop it in half so here's the first half. _  
_

It's a lot of backstory so I think it's actually better to let you chew on this first. Hear (Read) your feedback before I post the rest since I might end up tweaking it, depending...or I may just post it at once.

**|REVIEW|**


	52. IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER (for some)

**A/N: **I hate that I even feel the need to do this but here we go...

**QUICK FOR YOUR INFORMATION**

**This does** not** apply to everybody. This message is my response to a couple of reviews I have received via Private Message &amp; some Guest Reviews that had to be deleted. Instead of addressing those of you that I can reply to** individually** I just want to put this on record for **ALL **of you in my inbox and those couple guest reviews that may or may not have been from the same person. **

I value ALL the feedback I get.

**_Truly._**

I wouldn't ask for it if I didn't.

But you can give your opinions &amp; ask questions **WITHOUT** being rude.

I don't pull sarcasm from the sky, people. I'm a natural born smart ass &amp; just as quick with my tongue (or in this case fingers) as the fictional personalities I write.

I'm probably worse, in all actuality.

**MY POINT IS **if you continue to be nasty to me you're gonna dislike me **way more **than you dislike **"my stupid idea" ** or my **"unrealistic character" **or my **"cliche plot" **or my **"retarded storyline" **...better yet, you're gonna dislike me more than most readers hate **Sarah Hale.**

In fact since we all love **S**O**A** so much how's **THIS** for a disclaimer:

Just like **GEMMA TELLER **I won't tolerate **disrespect.**

Just like **CLAY MORROW **you won't like my (albeit verbal) reaction to feeling **attacked.**

And if it gets to be too much I will pull a **TARA KNOWLES **and hightail my ass out of fanfiction town faster than our favorite Teller can drawl the word **DARLIN'**

I **promise. **And not in the way **JACKSON TELLER** promises things. That shit is **guaranteed** to come true if need be.

Being rude is unnecessary and my name is not **CHUCKY**. I do **NOT **accept that!

You're ruining the fun in writing this and potentially ruining the fun for the people that actually **DO** enjoy reading it. You don't **HAVE** to read it. You can write your own if that's your pleasure. **Stop** snapping at me!

*Dorothy voice* ..._Or I'll bite you myself!_*

**THANK YOU! **

Now for those of you that are liking the story, please feel free to hit the next button. I just posted the second half of what I've donned "GOODBYE SARAH HALE"...I'm officially closing out her arc...with a BANG! Don't forget to give me your (respectfully) honest thoughts. Sorry guys. This wasn't for y'all at all.


	53. Chapter 47

**A/N: **The second and (sing praises, y'all) the **last** half of Sarah Hale's arc...

Yes...more flashbacks!

**P.S: **I decided to get her arc out of the way by posting both **CH46 &amp;47 **back to back. Make sure you |REVIEW| both though, please (It can be in the same post. I don't care how you do it lol).

**-Veritable Old LADY Crow**

* * *

**_3 years earlier..._**

_"A kiss on the hand _may be _quite continental...but diamonds are a girls best friend..."_

_Leaning back against the dark, leather couch, Jax spread his legs wide, an open beer bottle in one hand, a lit cigarette threaded through the fingers of his other. He looked up at thirteen year old Sarah, grinning like the cat that ate the canary as she swiveled around the stripper pole in front of him._

_Sarah snaked her body up and down the pole—a slurred vibrato in her voice as she did her very best Marilyn Monroe impression._

_"...men grow cold as girls grow aww-ldddd and we all lose our looks in the end..." Jax chuckled as she blew him a kiss._

"What are you doing Jax?"

_Sarah stopped mid-twirl, rolling her eyes at the brunette standing next to them, her eyes wide._

_The voice of reason had arrived._

_As usual._

_"Relax, Layyyy-dee Tee."_

_Tara ignored her. Reaching for the bottle in the young, handsome blonde's hand, she snatched the cigarette in the other one, dropping it into the beer she'd confiscated before sitting it down on the table at her Sarah's feet._

_"I thought we agreed drinking was a bad idea?" Tara accused, disappointment shining in her eyes._

_"Quit...being...suchhhh a buzzkill, Tara," Jax complained, slurring his words a little. He turned his head towards Club Reapers bar where his best friend sat watching them, a sour look on his face. "Ope! Can you get me another beer? _Nerdvana _ruined the one I had!"_

_"Get your own beer, idiot," Opie grumbled. "...if you can even stand up straight."_

_Tara turned the accusation in her eyes on the other blonde in the room—the one staring goofily at the boy leaning back on the couch, smiling up at her._

_"Jesus. How much did you guys drink?" Tara asked, her eyes darting back and forth between the two of them. When they smiled instead of answering she turned to glare at the other minor in the adult-less clubhouse. "What the Hell?"_

_Opie shrugged. "I told them not do it. You know Jax does whatever the Hell he wants."_

_"Jackson," Tara urged, sitting down next to him. She rubbed her hand along his arm. "You can't keep doing this...I've been watching my dad do this ever since my mom died...it doesn't help...and you're too young to_ be...God..._Where the heck is your mother? Your dad?"_

_"My _mommy_ died from cancer and now all my daddy does is drink!" Sarah chanted. "How's about playing a new record for once, Tee!"_

_Jax jerked his arm away from her, chuckling. "My dad's in Ireland...and my mom is at home...probably sleeping off all the booze_ she _drank...it runs in the family Tara...whiskey makes_ everything...awesome_...why else would Gemma let her son hang out in a bar without a chaperone."_

_"You say that like she knows we're here," Opie commented from the bar. When Tara turned to look at him, he added, "She thinks we're with Piney...and he thinks we're with her...I snuck his truck keys before he left with the guys..._trust me _I never would have done it if I knew this was gonna happen. How'd_ you _get here?_"

_"How'd you get here?" Instead of answering—admitting she'd done the same thing to her dad when he passed out—Tara directed the same question towards the younge honey-blonde stumbling as she climbed down from the pole to plop down on the opposite side of Jax._

_Sarah shrugged. "I asked Gloria to sleep over your house. You know she never waits til I'm inside to pull off and go be with her book club."_

_"Alright come on," Tara said, standing up. She reached for Jax's hand. "Let's go. Get up." She pulled at him, almost falling back on her ass when he abruptly decided to stand up after initially resisting her strained effort to get him to stand._

_"I'm not your drunk daddy, Knowles," Jax told her. "...I don't need you to take care of me."_

_"Someone has to," Tara mumbled under her breath, looking over at Opie. As if he'd read her mind, he hopped down off the stool he'd been sitting on, walking over to pull Sarah to her feet._

_"What was that you said, Tara?" Jax asked. Tara ignored him, pulling him towards the hallway that lead to the club house dorm rooms._

_Jax jerked her around suddenly, backing her against the wall, her head banging lightly against the picture frames aligning it when she lost her balance. "Why do you always have to control _everything? _You think you're an expert on people dying just because your mother's been in the ground since you were nine? Big freakin whoop."_

_"Cut it out, Jax," Opie warned, as he stood behind them, waiting for a clear path to resume helping Sarah in the same direction._

_Jax ignored him, moving in on Tara, chest to chest—so close, she could smell the alcohol on his breath, see the glazed over look in his eye...a high that looked so much different than the other times she'd caught him drinking._

_"What did you _do_ Jax?" Tara asked, her eyes widening, worry creasing her forehead. "What else did you take? Jax, this isn't go—"_

_"I'm tired of feeling like crap," Jax said, shrugging his shoulders, one hand on either side of her head as he failed to remain completely upright, leaning heavily against her. "...so I decided to do something that feels good..."_

_"You're scaring me, Jackson." Tara's eyes were glassy. She ignored Sarah's giggle beside her as she tried her damndest to pin him with her gaze, to get through to him. "...I know you want to feel better...and I want you to..._so bad..._but not like this...It's wrong, Jax. I don't understand...you still _have _a mother...How could she just l—"_

_Jax pressed his lips to hers—softly, pulling back before the bitter tasted of ale could fully coat her lips, her tongue._

_"You're trying to help me, right Tara?" Tara nodded twice, the kiss still rendering her speechless. "You think that drugs are bad...and stealing from my father's bar is bad...you think skipping school is bad...but I don't want to go to school...and if alcohol was really that bad...JT wouldn't have poured me my first shot when I was twelve...and _drugs...well..._I'm starting to think sex is like a drug...it's actually pretty addictive...I hear it hurts for girls their first time...but then it feels good..." Jax turned his head to smile at the blonde leaning back against his stony-faced best friend. "...right Sarah?..._tell her..."

_Sarah nodded. "It feels reallllyyyy good, Tee..."_

_Jax moved an arm off the wall. Reaching back he pulled a small, square foil packet from the back pocket of his jeans, holding in front of Tara's face. "What do you say, Tara? I was your first kiss, wasn't I? Why not try another first?" Jax lifted a hand to her face, smudging the tear rolling down her cheek. "...what's the matter? I thought you wanted to make me feel better?"_

_"_Enough_, man!" Opie yelled._

_"She'll _nevvver _do it, Jax," Sarah taunted. "...no matter how much she says she cares."_

_"You care about me, Tara?" Jax asked. "That's what you're always saying. _Prove it..._I want you, Tara...I've wanted you ever since I kissed you that day walking back from the park...You want me, too, don't you, Tara?...I _know_ you do," Jax said, rubbing her stomach underneath her shirt. _"_come on_..._show me _how much..."

_"I am _not _doing _that." _Tara spoke through clenched teeth, fresh tears spilling from her eyes. "Get off of me!"_

_Jax immediately backed up, before the word 'get' left her mouth good. Swaying on his feet a little, he held his hands up in mock surrender, smirking at her, shaking his head._ "Always a lady..._Lady _Tee._"_

_"Told ya," Sarah commented, shoving Opie's arms off of her. Turning to face him, she shook her head at him. "You guys don't get_ it...he lost Tommy..._he misses him...we're supposed to _be _there for him...no matter what..." She swaggered her way over to Jax, throwing an arm around his shoulder as his arm circled her waist. Looking at Tara, she shook her head. "He needs somebody that's not gonna judge him about_ everything...allll the time..."

_The two blondes stalked off, back towards the dorms—slamming whatever door they entered behind them without even a goodnight to spare._

_"_Tara." _The sniffling brunette turned towards the only other sober teenager in the room. "...you know he didn't mean any of that don't you? He's just flipping out."_

"_I can't deal with him like this," Tara confessed, rubbing her eyes. "...it's hard enough watching my dad do the same thing."_

_"You don't have to," Opie said, walking over to pull her into a hug. "Whether the idiot cares or not...he still has a brother...I always look out for him. Trust me, he's not gonna be like Arthur. I promise."_

_"I can't believe Sarah's letting him—"_

_Opie pulled back. "—Sarah's not _letting _him do anything," he corrected gently. "She's just going along with it...right or wrong she's not gonna tell him_ no_."_

_"And he thinks all I do is_ judge _him__," Tara complained, shaking her head. _

_"He didn't say that," Opie told her. "Sarah did."_

_"Did you hear him disagreeing?" Tara challenged, nodding stiffly when Opie said nothing. "_Exactly."

_"Gemma's still throwing him a party for his birthday," Opie commented after a moment of standing their in silence. "Are you still gonna come?"_

_"No!" Tara shrieked. The_ 'Hell' _she left out was still heavily implied.__ "Why would I?"_

_"You're not the only one that got burned, tonight, Tara."_

_Tara's eyes softened, sympathy swallowing the anger. "I'm sorry, Opie...I thought you knew about them..."_

_"You should come," Opie urged. "...forget Jax. Hang out with me...for a little while...then we can walk home together."_

_"Okay."_

_ It was Tara who stepped forward the second time they embraced. She wrapped her arms around him, her head resting on his chest. "You'll stay here with them? Help them sneak out before the club gets back from...wherever they—"_

_"—Y-uup," Opie agreed. Pulling away, he plucked her forehead. When she granted him a tiny smile, his lips turned up at the corners with hers. "Don't worry...I _got _this."_

_And he did._

* * *

"_Get up."_

_Jax was given no warning._

_He'd barely opened his eyes before the force of Opie's shove sent him rolling off of the bed, hitting the floor with a loud thud._

_"What the Hell, man?!" Jax croaked._

_"Let's go," Opie barked, picking the pillow off the bed to toss at the groggy, hungover thirteen year old on the dorm room floor. "Pop's not kicking my ass because you and Sarah decided last night was a good time to experiment."_

_"That shit is _awful_, Ope." Jax groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Never again, bro. I don't know how people get hooked on that stuff."_

_"Ask _Kozik_," Opie griped. "I'm sure he'll tell you right after he kicks your ass for being dumb enough to try it. What is wrong with you, man? Is this shit really helping? If it is, tell me how and I won't say another word...but man, you and Sarah are overdoing it...If she won't tell you you're being stupid, you know I'm gonna."_

_"Where's Tara?" Jax asked, bracing himself against the foot of the bed, slowly rising to his feet. "I'm sure she'd love to back you up with this after school special you got going."_

_"Are you kidding me?" Opie's nostrils flared. "Maybe if you weren't snorting shit up your nose you'd remember what a dickhead you were to her last night. Where did you guys even get that stuff?"_

_"Sarah found it in Jacob Jr's sock drawer." Jax looked up, squinting at him. "How mad was she? Tara, I mean...I don't even rem—"_

_"—you'll be lucky if she even talks to you," Opie answered. "I guilted her into coming to your stupid party tomorrow night. You better fix it. If you don't man..."_

_"What?" Jax stood up a little taller, bloodshot eyes widening a little. "You're gonna bail on me, too?"_

_Opie was quiet for a moment. Jax sat down on the bed, blue eyes never leaving his as he waited for him to answer._

_He didn't._

_Instead he countered with a question of his own._

_"Why didn't you tell me about you and Sarah?"_

Before I lost my freakin virginity to her.

_He knew how Jax felt about Tara without him saying a word._

_Did he seriously not know Opie felt the same way about her best friend?_

* * *

**SUNDAY, 5:28 p.m**

The world's best mother was sitting, cross-legged on a stool at the bar bar, twirling the glass of wine in her hand when Sarah walked into the kitchen.

"Afternoon, _Gloria_," Sarah addressed her, walking over to the pantry, pulling a packet of popcorn from one of the shelves. "I see you're up to your usual..._is that your fourth glass or your fifth?"_

A rare chuckle sounded behind her as she sat the popcorn in the microwave, pressing it on. Sarah turned around, one eyebrow rising as she took in the expression on her mother's face.

"Your father's looking for you," Gloria Hale announced, taking a healthy sip from the glass in her hand as she stared after her sixteen year old daughter. "He's in his study."

"Thanks for the info._" _Sarah rolled her eyes. _Where the Hell else would he be? _"I thought you guys weren't coming back until Thanksgiving."

"You should go talk to him," Gloria suggested, looking down at one of the many catalogues spread out on the counter in front of her, flipping through the pages of the one on top.

"Aren't you gonna ask what happened to me?" Sarah waved a hand from the bruises on her face, down to the cast on around her foot. "..._mother's_ are usually concerned about this kind of thing."

"Did you like it there?" After a moment of silence, Gloria looked up to see her teenage child standing with her arms crossed, one eyebrow cocked. "Boarding school. Did you have fun? I just finished speaking with the headmaster. She's willing to accept you back...for a small donation of course, but still...you were always a smart girl. Even too smart for your own good. I'm sure you'll be caught up in no time."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Turn that off," Gloria ordered, pointed an burgundy-tinted fingernail towards the microwave. "I don't want the house smelling like burnt popcorn...on top of the mess you left in my living room...and my patio...that was a eight thousand dollar table your friends ruined, you know...and...I can't seem to remember which of these catalogues I ordered it..._wait..._here it is..." Gloria tipped the glass in her hand up towards her mouth again, sloshing the liquid as if in celebration of her triumphant discovery.

"Why are you talking to me about boarding school?"

"_Turn it off." _Gloria looked up at her, again, nodding towards the microwave.

Sarah quickly did as she asked, before turning back around to face her.

"Your father and I decided that it would be best—"

"—_Great_," Sarah interrupted. "_Your father and I..._I know what that means...what did I do this time, Gloria? You're out of your mind if you think I'm going back there. I just got home. You really think daddy's gonna let you get away with this shit again?"

"_Language, _Sarah_." _Gloria shook her head.

"I'm not going to back to boarding school," Sarah declared. "The only reason he let you send me away before was because of what happened—"

"—Yes," Gloria agreed. "And it seems your older brother has been picking up some of your old habits..."

_What the fuck?_

"Where did you think I got the drugs _from, _mother?" Sarah fumed.

Gloria clucked her tongue. "Nothing is ever your fault, sweetheart," she said, shaking her head. "You've been back a week and I might have to buy a new house to replace the one you wrecked throwing a house party...in your honor..._naturally._"

"I didn't throw anything! _Jake did!"_

"—I suppose you didn't call the cops to get even with that delinquent ex-boyfriend of yours either, did you?" Gloria challenged, a knowing look in her eyes as she sneered. "...not one, not two, but _three _citations...it's like you think we have money to throw away...you have any idea how that's gonna effect your father's reputation? How this makes _me _look? And if that wasn't bad enough you get _Junior _in trouble, too. Jake's gonna have to call in a lot of favors to clean up your mess."

"I guess I'm the one that bought the coke and hid it in his room, too," Sarah huffed.

"Actually...that's precisely what he said," Gloria answered. "...he was lying about not using it, of course...the drug test we had him take proved that much...but as for—"

"—you're such a bitch," Sarah snapped. "And a fuckin hypocrite! _You're _the one that needs a trip to rehab, _Boozey."_

Gloria snorted, the taunting sound reverberated in the glass as she lifted it to her mouth again. "If I _did _that would be the first thing we actually had in common. _How awful is that?_"

"Are we done here?" Sarah asked, already walking out of the kitchen. "I'm going to talk to daddy."

_You're not fuckin sending me anywhere._

"Good," Gloria said to her retreating back. "When you're finished, I'll be out on the back patio. Come find me and we can go shopping for whatever you need before you pack!"

* * *

**_3 Years earlier..._**

_"You guys looked_ ah-mazing_ up there!" Gloria exclaimed as the two girls ran towards them. Her eyes immediately found Tara's, an almost maternal pride twinkling in the gray as she added, "especially you, Tara. I can't believe you were scared to perform. You're a natural."_

_"Thank you, Mrs. Hale," Tara said, blushing._

I was better_, Sarah thought, opting not to state the obvious. No matter how irritated she was, her beef was with her mother, not her best friend._

_Tara didn't do anything wrong._

_She was just being herself—and as usual being herself was more than enough...because it was her._

_"Where are we going out to eat?" Sarah asked, edging her way in to the back and forth between Tara and her mother._

_"I can't, Sarah," Gloria answered. "I promised Angie we'd go out tonight to discuss the fundraiser."_

_"That's okay," Tara said. "We can go next time."_

Not.

_"Where'd daddy go? He could take us."_

_He lets me order whatever I want...no matter how many calories are in it._

_"Your father had to go into work," Gloria answered, waving her off with her hand. "We go out to eat after every dance recital, Sarah."_

Duh. That's why I want to go out now.

_"We can go next time, 'Rah," Tara conceded, smiling at her. "I can't stay out long anyway...my dad is off work today..."_

I know what that means.

_"Can I sleep over Tara's?"_

He doesn't bother her when I'm around.

_Gloria shook her head. "You're going home," she told her daughter. "Jacob's still on punishment...Your father's tasked him with watching you..._Rick! Angela! _Over here!_" _Gloria raised her hand, waving the beautiful couple over towards them. Walking between them, holding hands with both of them was their daughter._

_"Hey Gloria," Angela Vidal said. Leaning towards her they touch cheeks, blowing air kisses on either side of their faces._

_"Hi, Sarah," Sage said._

_"Hi, Sage."_

_Thirteen year old Sage wrinkled her nose. "Daddy's letting me change my name. It's _Lauren _now."_

_"Why do you want to change your name?" Tara asked, completely unfazed by Lauren "Sage" Vidal ignoring her prescence. "Sage means _wise. _I like it. It's unique."_

_"Who asked you?" Lauren sniped. "And what the Hell kind of name is Tara?_ You _should ask for a name change, too...and a better dad while you're at it!"_

_"Watch it," Sarah snapped, placing a hand on Tara's shoulder._

_Lauren was too busy rolling her eyes to notice Tara's hands twitching at her sides._

_Sarah wasn't. And she knew something Lauren didn't._

_Jax really _did_ teach her how to throw a punch..._

_"Play nice girls," Rick Vidal said, smiling at the three of them._

_"Pigs will fly the day that happens," Gloria lamented, shaking her head. "How did you guys like the recital?"_

_"Beautiful!" Angela gushed. "My favorite part was...and then..."_

_"Why are you even friends with her?" Lauren whispered, jutting a thumb Tara's way. "She's so...lame...and her dad is crazy. He drove his car into my daddy's dry cleaners!"_

_Sarah's eyes flew to Tara's, realizing instantly that she'd heard every word Lauren mumbled. But instead of the short temper she anticipated...Tara looked like...like she was about to cry._

_Gray eyes blazing, Sarah shoved hard against Lauren's chest, pushing her back into her father who failed to catch her before she stumbled sideways._

"Sarah Lynette Hale!" _Gloria gasped. "I'm so sorry, Angie...Rick...What is wrong with you? _Apologize, right now!"

_"You first," Sarah said, crossing her arms, glaring at the girl being helped off of the auditorium floor._

_"I tell you what, I was reconsidering going out tonight," Gloria said. "But now you are most _definitely _going straight home!"_

_"I wanna sleep over Tara's."_

_"_No!"

Sorry, Tee, _Sarah tried to convey with her eyes. Judging by the smile playing at her lips, and the subtle nod of her head, Tara got the message._

_"I'm sorry, Tara," Gloria said. "I keep hoping your behavior eventually rubs off on her instead of the other way around."_

_"Can she come over pleaseeee?" Tara begged._

_"Sorry, sweetheart." Gloria shook her head, before looking up at Angela. "I'll meet you guys as soon as I get them home."_

_"I could take them if you want," Rick volunteered. "I'll drop..._Tara?..._I'll drop her off and keep our girls with me until you gals are finished with all your _scheming._"_

_"Oh I don't know," Gloria hesitated, looking down at her child. "This one is a piece of work. Jacob has her spoiled rotten!"_

_"Don't worry, Gloria," Rick assured, smiling at the defiant expression on Sarah's face. "I'll keep them in line."_

Don't count on it..._Ricky._

* * *

**SUNDAY, 5:38 p.m**

"Daddy?"

The sound of her sliding the private study's door closed behind her was the only sound in the room, as she walked towards him. Judge Jacob Hale was facing the window, ice clinking inside the glass of scotch he twirled in his hand.

"Daddy?" Sarah repeated, certain he hadn't heard her. "Gloria said you were looking or me...What are you doing back? I thought you guys were staying for two weeks..."

Jacob Hale nodded, continuing to stare out the window. "I guess that explains the beer bottle I tripped over on my way up the stairs..."

"What's wrong, _daddy?_" Sarah asked, placing a hand on his shoulder as she came to a stop behind him.

"You sure you care to know?"

"Of course I care, daddy," Sarah assured him. "What is it?"

Jacob brushed her arm off. "My sixteen year old daughter..._is a whore."_

Sarah blinked hard, the shock of his words halting her speech as she fought to wrap her brain around the statement.

Had he really said that?

He couldn't have.

Why would he ever?

Gloria? Maybe.

Jacob Jr? Definitely.

David? Not to her face.

But her father? No.

Jacob Hale slowly turned to face her. Raising the drink in his hand to his lips, he sipped from it before sitting on the stand, in front of the crystal tumbler he'd poured it from.

Turning his back on her again, he slowly made his way towards his desk.

"I heard about what happened at the fundraiser...and _after _it," he commented, pulling out his top desk drawer. Reaching inside, he pulled a thick stack of papers out, dropping it on top of the desk. Looking up at her, his hazel eyes were ice cold. "Go to your room and start packing. Whatever you can't fit or don't have we'll ship it up to you. You start back Monday._"_

"Daddy," Sarah whined. "I don't know what you heard b-but—"

"—_I didn't have to _hear _anything!" _her father yelled, swiping his hand across the desk until everything that was on top of it littered the floor. "I don't what the Hell I did to deserve children like you...my oldest son is a _deadbeat cokehead..._my youngest is a _pussy...oh,_ he can throw a football around but he can't fight his way out of a paper bag. And _you! _You haven't kept your legs closed since you discovered what a _cock _was for!"

"I don't who told you...or...or what they said, but they're lying, daddy," Sarah lamented, shaking her head, her gray eyes wide and glassy. "I didn't do anything—"

"—you weren't screwing around with a grown ass man? a grown ass _married _man? A man who happens to be on the council that can make or break _any_ future venture business, political or otherwise...You didn't do that?"

Sarah shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "I didn't...we...he...he...he forced me, daddy," she told him. "It wasn't my fault!"

"It's not your fault your brother's being charged with drug possession and intent to sell either, is it?" Jacob shook his head. "You know...I _never _wanted children...every _shred _of political capital I have...every friend I've made...every bridge I've built...you ungrateful little shitheads burn everything down to the ground! And _you're _the ringleader! If Angela Vidal wasn't worried about her own reputation and all alimony she won't be getting with the prenup she signed she'd be shouting about her husband fuckin Judge Hale's teenage daughter for everyone in Charming to hear!"

"_He's_ the adult, daddy!" Sarah shrieked, sobbing. "Why are you yelling at _me_?"

"I can't punish _him!" _Judge Hale. "That asshole's safe or believe me...I'd slit his fuckin throat myself...but _you..._I give you everything you want..._everything..._and you can't even keep up appearances...if you're not snorting shit up your nose, you've got a mouth full of—"

"Your golf buddy _raped_ me and you're sending me away because it's convenient?" Sarah cried, swiping her wrist under her nose. "Does mom know about this?"

"She's _mom _now, huh?" Jacob pulled the desk drawer open again, slamming another file down on top of the empty surface. "Your mom didn't just hear about it, baby girl...she got the exclusives from her book club pal Angie herself..._You wanna see?"_

Sarah skirted backwards, a knee-jerk reaction to her father suddenly charging towards her. He grabbed her by the side of her neck, his hand digging into her waist as he dragged her towards his desk. Flinging the manila folder open, he shoved her face towards the stack of photos inside of it.

"That doesn't look like _rape _to me, you lying brat," Jacob barked. "..._statutory_ maybe...I guess I'd have to know if these are photos of the sixteen year old you...kinda hard to tell with your head in his lap." Sarah shoved the folder away, sending it's contents into the air, floating towards the floor piece by piece. "...do victims usually smile?"

Sarah whipped around, glaring up at the disgusted expression on her fathers face.

All her tears were dried up.

So was her need to play the role of daddy's little girl.

"You're just as disgusting as he is," Sarah sneered. "...you're even _worse..._you're a fuckin _judge..._and you'd rather send your own daughter away then go after the pedophile that took advantage of her."

"You're a lot more like your Old man that I'd like to admit," Jacob sneered. "_No one..._takes advantage of _you."_

Sarah's answering smile was razor sharp. "That's right. I am _daddy's little girl_...that's how I know you're not sending me away again," she told him. "It's just like you said, _Jacob..._I'm the ringleader...I'm where the trouble starts, right? Right now your precious c_areer _is nothing but collateral damage...Can you imagine what it would be like if you were my actual target?"

"You threatening me?"

"Of course not, _daddy," _Sarah said, her wide-eyed expression every bit as innocent as she _wasn't. _"...I'm just concerned about you that's all...I don't know how Gloria would feel about the way you tormented her surrogate child...You remember Tara right? She's the daughter Gloria never had...and you saw to that...just like I'll see to it that _David..._the one child that still holds you up on that pedestal you don't deserve finds out the _real _reason he never had a chance with the girl he's been in love with since we were kids."

Jacob Hale's face finally cracked.

And underneath the stony glare was a smile—a smile more predatory, more vicious, more taunting than the one slowly disappearing from his daughters face.

"I'm not one of your high school friends," he told her. "...David will stay in line...just like Junior...and Gloria? ...you know _Gloria, _don't you? As long as the wine cabinet is fully stocked she'll be just fine. It's _you..._you were always the _difficult _one...I'll tell you something though...unless you want to trade boarding school for a juvenile detention center you'll do the same as the rest of them. You understand me? _Go pack your shit. _You're leaving tonight."

"_Fuck you," _Sarah spat.

Her father chuckled, shaking his head. "Me and your brothers are probably the only ones you haven't fucked," he mused, before sobering up. Walking away, he stopped to refill his glass before resuming his stance in front of the window. "I suggest you get started. We'll see you to the airport on our way _back _to Telluride. You only have a few hours. _Don't test me._"

Jacob was right—both Junior _and _Senior.

David fell in line alright.

And trying to talk to him, trying to tell him the truth about his father—it only confirmed what Junior said.

_"You're full of shit, Sarah,_" David fumed. "Seriously, _Sarah...do__n't you ever get tired of screwing with people's lives? Me and Tara are _over. _And it's not because of dad. How do you even come up with this shit? _ Stop_ starting trouble just because you're bored...And why'd you call the cops last night? On your _own _party. When Coach finds out half the team's gonna be suspended. No _class _means_ _no _practice, _Sarah! The season's starting and now..._God..._why did you even come back? _No one _wants you here. Not _even _Tara."_

David was done with her, too.

* * *

Sarah only needed ten minutes to finish packing.

The youngest Hale was traveling light this time around.

All she needed was the wallet with all her credit cards—the one's from _daddy..._and the woman who didn't want her friends finding out that her husband liked for her to _call him _that.

Her phone.

And the party favors her dear old brother was nice enough to give her.

A going away present—sweet.

She even opted to do a few lines of it before heading off to her next adventure.

Why?

Because...

_Why the fuck not?_

* * *

**_3 Years earlier..._**

_"Stay away from me, Jax!" Tara screeched, yanking her arm out of his grasp. "I don't care if it's your party...or your birthday...the only reason I'm here is because I promised Opie!"_

_She'd been sitting on his bed, waiting for him to find her._

_Sarah rushed into Jax's closet just in time, sliding the door closed just enough to hide her presence without blocking her view._

_Her eyes ballooned as the bedroom door flew open, Jax pulling Tara inside before quickly slamming it shut behind them._

_"You have to talk to—"_

_There was no way Jax saw the slap coming._

_Tara's hand flew out way too fast for him to see it move._

_She was sure he _felt _it though._

_"I don't have to do anything for you!" Tara snapped. "Or _to _you!"_

_"Tara, listen to me," Jax urged, reaching for her as her hand turned the knob. Tara threw her elbow back, hitting him in his chest._

_"The next blow is gonna be with my _fist, you spoiled jackass!" _Tara promised, yanking the door open._

_Jax pushed it shut again with a loud bang as he quickly spun around, pressing his back against it—blocking her in._

_"I'm s_orry, _Tara," Jax yelled at her. "I don't even know what I said last night but whatever it was I didn't mean it, okay?"_

_"You don't know what you said?" Tara echoed, crossing her arms. "I wonder why that is Jax."_

_"I _didn't _mean it," he lamented. " I swear to God, Tara. I didn't mean any of it."_

_"None of it?" Tara challenged. "...not even the part where you said you _wanted _me?" The silence was deafening even to Sarah's own ears, as they all stood there while Jax's eyes darted around the room...everywhere but where Tara's waited impatiently. "You can't even remember a_nything _you said. How the Hell do you know what you did or didn't mean?"_

_"Because whatever I said...whatever I did, it hurt you," Jax answered, finally looking her in the eye. "...and if it hurt you I didn't mean it, Tara. I'd _never _hurt you."_

_"But you _did!" _she shrieked, shaking her head. "You _did _hurt me."_

_"I didn't _want _to," Jax replied. He reached for her again, flinching when she jerked violently away from him. "Tara...tell me what I have to say...or do...whatever it is...you gotta tell me how to fix this...I...I _need _you, Tara. You're the only one that doesn't treat me any different...the only one that tells me the truth even when I don't want to hear it..._I'm sorry...go ahead.._punch me in the face if it makes you feel better."_

_Tara's eyes widened. "I thought it was the other way around, Jax," she responded. "I'm supposed to be making _you_ feel better...no wait, that's not right...I'm supposed to make you feel _good."

_Jax shook his head. "I didn't mean it..._shit.._Tara...I already lost Tommy...I can't lose you, too."_

_"You can't keep using that as an excuse, Jax," Tara told him._

_ Somehow Sarah didn't think she intended for her voice to be quite that soft._

_Jax noticed it, too._

_Sarah could tell by the way his eyes lit up._

_He saw an opening—and he was going to take it._

_"I _know," _Jax told her, reaching for her again. This time she let him hold her hands in his, concern etched all over her face as he nodded at her like a bobble-head doll. "I know, Tara..._I'm done, _okay?"_

_Tara chewed her lip. "My father says the same thing all the time."_

_"I'm not your father," Jax argued, pulling her a little closer. "I'm not my mother either. You're right. I'm too young for all of...I swear...no more cutting school...no more stealing from the bar at the clubhouse..or my dad's stuff...no more getting drunk or any of that. Okay?"_

_It was the longest stretch of silence between them ever._

_And then finally...Tara nodded. "Okay."_

_Jax pulled her in close to him, wrapping his arms around her, shutting his eyes as she rubbed his back._

_"Jax?"_

_"Yeah?" he answered, his chin resting on top of her head._

_"You sure that's all it was?"_

_"Yes."_

_Tara pulled back to look at him, his arms still circling her waist. "I mean...I'm talking about last night...you were different...you and Sarah...you never acted like that before...you sure it...it was...it really was just alcohol?"_

_"That's _all _it was." _

_The lie flew off Jax's tongue so smoothly Sarah almost believed it herself—and she was the one that gave him the drugs he was lying his ass off about._

_The drugs she had more of—drugs she'd snuck out of her older brother's room...again._

_Drugs that were in a thumb-sized bag—in her palm._

_"You're the one that's always lecturing me about how dangerous street drugs are."_

_"That doesn't mean you listened," Tara countered, looking down at their feet. "You been through a lot...so if you decided to exp—"_

_"No drugs, Tara," Jax lied. "I overdid it with the shots...and the beer...cigarettes, too...but it'll _never _happen again, okay? _I promise, babe."

_Sarah could see the sincerity in his eyes._

_His secret vow to himself to never again do what he was denying ever doing in the first place—it was remarkable._

_He was really willing to be on his best behavior for his..._

_Babe?_

_When did that happen?_

Looks like his _Darlin_ is partying alone tonight, _Sarah thought when she watched them leave the room, arm in arm minutes later._

* * *

**MONDAY, 12:05 a.m**

The drugs were supposed to help.

They were making it worse.

There was a shit storm, swarming in her brain, beating a bruise against her temple, making her lids feel heavy, the grip in her hands weak.

But it wasn't the coke.

It was all the memories crashing into each other, each voice piercing the surface, shattering her pride—the barrier that normally shut them down.

_BAM!_

_He pulled his bedroom door shut without a backward glance, the girl who'd been in his bed, his and his only for the very first time...out of sight, out of mind as he followed after the one he really wanted-the one he'd _always_ wanted..._

_"...oh...FUCK...Tara!"_

J_ax couldn't even remember her when she was the one on her knees for him. All those years...and everything was just the same as before..._

_"I know it was you," _Opie yelled. _"You're always starting shit...I wish Jax would find another slut..."_

_"I'm not your shadow...and I'm done hanging out in your back pocket...I'm _done_ with you!"_

_"If you know what's good for you, Sarah...you'll keep your mouth closed until the next guy tells to open wide."_

_"Sorry, Darlin," he said. "It's kinda hard to focus on you _and _the fantasy running through my head about your best friend _Tara._"_

_"You're a conniving _bitch_."_

_"If that's true...that's the first thing we have in common...how awful is that?"_

_"My sixteen year old daughter...is a whore."_

_ "I don't what the Hell I did to deserve children like you...My oldest son is a deadbeat cokehead...my youngest is a pussy...oh, he can throw a football around but he can't fight his way out of a paper bag. And you! You haven't kept your legs closed since you discovered what a cock was for!"_

_ "Me and your brothers are probably the ones you haven't fucked."_

_"No one wants you here...not even Tara."_

Sarah's head was spinning.

And then her car was spinning.

The dark road on the empty street was spinning.

Sarah blinked against the blur casting over her eyes.

And then the quiet street's intersection wasn't empty anymore.

A car horn blared.

Was it hers?

Crunching metal.

Glass shattering.

The seat belt nearly strangling her to death as she lurched forward.

It was only a split second when everything was clear—painfully crystal.

The loud screeching of tires, coming to a stop just a little too late.

The impact.

Veering into the front end of the car, sending it skirting sideways into the utility pole.

Her long, dark hair flying around her face as her head slammed against the steering wheel.

Then the airbag's deploy, obscuring her from view, as Sarah finally gave up—letting her eyes drift shut.

_They _were the last things she saw though.

Two familiar figures, running out into the street.

A mother following after her son, running behind him, grabbing at the gap of air in between them as they grew further apart the faster he ran.

Jax was pulling on the handle of the driver's side door of the Cutlass, screaming, _"TARA,"_ when everything finally went black.

* * *

**7, 200 words.**

_I'm gonna want your thoughts before I proceed..._

_**P.S: **I figured out a compromise to alleviate the breaks between Jax &amp; Tara exclusive moments and the plot surrounding other characters. Instead of switching between their **POV's **like I started out I'm going to write more _Omniscient _or in other words I'm gonna write like all the normal people on this site lmao. I'll just bounce around throughout the chapters so that everyone from every angle of the story is included. That'll make it easier to shorten the chapters as well. _Pheww.

**|REVIEW|**


	54. Chapter 48

**A/N: **Okay, TWO THINGS people...

_First things first_**_...I'm the REALEST! I drop this and let the whole world FEEL IT! _**

**LMAO. **Sorry. I couldn't resist. It popped into my head mid-A-NOTE.

O-key, O-key, Cabrons.

**#1: **In case you didn't know I don't a frack about the **#** of reviews I get for **each **chapter! If I post four chapters all at once you can write all your thoughts in ONE long post (even rambling as **I **do) **or **P/M me your thoughts &amp; I'll be bouncing up and down in my computer chair. I don't care where/how you give feedback just so long as you **do. **

**#2: **How do you lovely readers feel about...**_Ring pops_****?** What about _**miraculous recoveries? **_Are any of you guys _**Veronica Mars **_fans? How overdue are we for that OMG-EVERYONE-SEES-IT-BUT-YOU-two-JUST-SAY-IT **_"moment"_**_?_

Just a few RANDOM things to mull over. (tee-hee)

While you're doing that, in the mean time this is a very **Plot-driven **chapter. And my **first **attempt to write the story from an **omniscient** **POV **where I bounce between characters instead of just Jax-Tara-Jax-Tara. So let me know what you think.

**QUICK SHOUTOUT: **Special thanks to _NewfieGirl_...your comment (review) about Gemma being M.I.A aka in "Bakersfield" instead of with her son &amp; husband got me to thinking. And the content of this chapter came to fruition. So those who like it, thank **her. **I don't know how many ways I can tell you guys your feedback inspires the story you're enjoying to read.

**\- Veritable Old LADY Crow**

* * *

_"…..I do apologize for the late phone call Mrs. Teller….I was under the impression that this was merely a misunderstanding….I didn't want to inconvenience your, uh…your—"_

_"_—brother-in-law," Gemma provided, rolling her eyes hard as if the St. Thomas night nurse would somehow be able to pick up on it through the phone held against her ear.

_"Yes," _the nurse continued. _"….It's just that he seemed pretty adamant about being allowed….he seems to think him not being on the list was just an oversight and I—"_

Gemma held a hand up in front of her, once again gesturing rudely before remembering the confused woman on the other end of the line couldn't see her. "—listen, sweetheart. The visitation list is fine as is. I didn't make any mistakes. If they're not on the list they're not allowed in to see him. We clear? And that _includes _regular visiting hours."

"I don't understand," the woman told her. "If he's your—"

"—sweetheart, the only thing you need to understand is that right now _I'm _the only one you're inconveniencing," Gemma interrupted. "If they're not on the list, I don't want them in his room. If I change my mind, I'll put it in writing..._just like I did the first time_."

"Right…so I guess I shouldn't ask if your son is allowed to bring his friends with him to visit…"

Gemma shut her eyes, one hand gripping the steering wheel as she considered the nurse's indirect question. Sighing heavily, she rolled her eyes towards the roof of the car yet again before saying, "Jackson can bring whoever he wants with him to visit his father."

_"_Okay, because there was a young lady here with him," the nurse told her. "They left here about an hour or so ago. I wasn't sure—"

"All that schooling you did to get your Nursing degree and you're telling me they skipped the lesson on _pronouns_?" Gemma snapped. "I said _whoever_ he wants to bring with him!"

"I understand Mrs. Teller, you have a goodnight M'am," the nurse gushed quickly, before placing the hospital phone on the receiver the wrong way. Gemma was sure the nurse didn't mean for her to hear it when she mumbled, "What a _bitch_."

Oddly enough, it actually made Gemma kind of like her.

_Looks like you and me got a lot in common tonight, sweetheart, s_he thought, cracking a wry smile as she tossed her phone in the glove compartment of her car. _We both have to play nice...for now._

Tara was a problem.

A problem that needed fixing.

And while it was true that her son was just as hard to read as his father most days, there were certain things about him that she knew to the letter. When that nurse shooed him and that little gash Tara out of the hospital the first thought in his mind was most definitely that his mother was up to her usual scheming.

And indeed she was.

But tonight her target didn't come in the form of a teenage girl.

There was always tomorrow though.

One way or another Tara Knowles would have to be handled.

Gemma Teller would be damned if she let another Knowles woman stir up shit with her families—either one of them.

* * *

**0-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-0**

"Hey, prospect!"

Kyle Hobart looked up from the bar counter he'd been wiping down, turning his head towards the wide open doors of the SAMCRO clubhouse Chapel.

"I'm almost finished restocking this shelves," Kyle yelled back quickly. He gave the shiny surface one final swipe with the dishrag in his hand before hurrying to place the last case liquor bottles on the shelves in neat, even rows (the way Gemma liked it). He'd nearly knocked one over in his haste to get on to the next task he should have been doing when he was getting high and screwing Sarah Hale instead. Falling asleep had set him back on a few duties. The last thing he needed was the matriarch stopping in to tear him a new one for having shit out of order.

"You coming or do I have to drag your ass in here?" Clay barked.

Kyle froze, nearly dropping the crate full of shot glasses in his hand.

Clay was inviting him to join him in the Chapel?

Why?

He knew it wasn't because they'd made a decision or whether or not to patch him in. He needed a full table for that and as far as he'd know he was the only one there tonight.

Well, him and Clay apparently.

Confused, but still more than eager for a chance to talk with SAMCRO's acting President, Kyle sat the crate of glasses down on the counter (maybe a little hard) and rushed inside Club Reaper's Chapel doors.

"Sorry," Kyle lamented, slightly breathless despite the short distance from the bar to the room he now stood inside of. "You know how Gemma is….I was just making sure everything was in order before I leave."

Clay waved a hand towards the empty chair to the right of him. Kyle took two long strides towards it before coming to an abrupt halt when Clay held that same hand up, motioning for him to stop.

Tilting his head towards the Chapel's leather padded, double doors, Clay grunted, "_Shut the doors_," before nodding his approval for the nineteen year old to resume making his way to the seat next to him.

"You were a hang around for over a year before I sponsored you," Clay commented. "You ever wonder why?"

Kyle shrugged his shoulders, doing his best to keep his expression neutral. "I figured you and the rest of the club…you were umm….a little concerned about my familial affiliations."

"Quintin's a boy scout," Clay mused, leaning against the table, his elbow stopping just short of the gavel in front of it. "Your uncle never got over all the fun he had playing cops and robbers with your old man as a kid."

Kyle chuckled. "Yeah."

Clay shook his head. "I was never concerned about you coming from a family of cops," he told him. "It wasn't the clubs concern either….it was more about…ah, you know what it doesn't even matter. What matters is why I vouched for you…why _I'm _the one pushing for you to get your top rocker when the month is up."

Kyle's eyes ballooned. "You're patching me in?"

"Nothings official yet," Clay answered. "…I'm gonna be honest with you, son. There's still a few members that ain't so sure you got what it takes to be a member of SAMCRO..."

Clay lifted his arm off the table, using the hand attached to it to reach for the gavel laying on the table where Kyle sat, dark brown eyes flitting down towards it every so often.

"_This," _Clay said, looking at the gavel in his hand, "…I don't have to tell you the power….the weight this holds…and right now _I'm_ the one holding it…."

"You don't think JT is gonna make it?" Kyle dared asking.

Clay's face was a mask, not a hint of emotion peeking out from underneath it. "I don't know," he answered. "….what I _do _know is that if the vote had gone his way you wouldn't be wearing that prospect Kutte on your back right now."

"I don't get it, if—"

"Relax son," Clay assured him, patting his hand against the _Sargent at Arms _patch on his chest before reaching inside of his Kutte, pulling a cigar from the breast pocket. "John's not out to get you….he's just not quick to trust people he doesn't know…he likes to keep it in the family….but you see _me, _I have a sixth sense about shit...like who I can rely on…who I can count on to have my back."

"I got your back," Kyle told him, all but wagging the tail he didn't have at the man cutting the end of the cigar in his hand, lighting it.

Clay nodded once, blowing the smoke out through his nose, a smile that showed every long, sharp tooth in his mouth spreading across his face.

"I know, son," Clay agreed as he staring absently across the room towards the end of the table. "You got more balls than folks around here give you credit for. That's why I want you in my corner….that's why I want you to be a part of the club..." Turning to face him, Clay took one final puff of the cigar before extending it towards the nineteen year old sitting next to him. "…and as a matter of fact….right now I need you just as much as you're gonna need my vote to patch in."

There wasn't even a moment of hesitation before Kyle was reaching towards the cigar outstretched towards him.

"Anything you need…._Prez," _Kyle agreed, solemnly, before taking a long pull of the blunt between his fingers.

_And this is why _I _deserve the gavel._

* * *

**0-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-0**

Gemma snatched the door to the confessional shut with a loud snap, her ass hitting hard against the wooden bench when she plopped down on it, crossing her legs.

She pulled a cigarette from the breast pocket of her leather jacket, lighting it and taking a lung-scorching pull, blowing the smoke out through pursed lips before speaking.

"Forgive me _father," _the SAMCRO Matriarch droned, her voice mocking as she puffed away. "…for I have sinned."

"You're not supposed to smoke in here."

His voice was gruff, gravelly.

Yet somehow it was also quiet—hushed, and delicate in a way that emanated the profound wisdom and guidance people sought through confession.

"I know that," Gemma replied. "Just like you know I don't give a shit."

"I can't help sensing that you find offense….being here."

"Save your observations, _father,_" Gemma sneered. "You can keep your words of wisdom while you're at it. I didn't come here for that. _You know why I'm here_."

"I'm afraid I haven't a clue why you're here," said the priest. "Where is he?"

"Where is w_ho?"_

The tone of her voice eliminated any doubt that she knew exactly who the hidden man was speaking of.

"_Jackson," _the priest answered, playing along. "We sent word…you were supposed to bring—"

"—I know what you wanted," Gemma interrupted. "...but I'm _afraid_…. I can't help you. My son's not into confession. We haven't raised him catholic since he got kicked out of Sunday school for getting a hand job."

"Where is he, _Gemma?_"

"_Oh." _Gemma's eyes widened as she twisted her body all the way around, facing the lattice along the wall that separated them. "We're on a first name basis now? Alright, father. I'm good with that. To be honest this whole confession shit was grating on my nerves anyway. Reminds me of all those sins my mother used to force me in here to repent for. You know _my_ name...how about you tell me yours?"

"I didn't come here to make friends, love," the man answered.

"Why _did _you come?" Gemma questioned. "And what the Hell does _my _son have to do with it?"

"You know why, Lovey."

Gemma nodded, twisting her mouth to one side. "JT."

"Yes," the priest admitted. "John asked me here…it's very unfortunate…what has happened to him….yet it's neither the accident…or the _timing_ of it that troubles me most."

"I'm still not clear on why anything that has to do with my husband…with _my _family would trouble you," Gemma commented. "….I'm just not buying this whole JT being friends with a priest….shit sounds like a joke...a priest and an outlaw biker walk into a bar…."

"He wouldn't tell me the _exact _reason for my visit to the States," the man confessed. "…but he did say it was about his family."

"Which one?" Gemma snapped, her voice every bit as sharp as the teeth she bared when posing the question. "The one in Charming? Or the one he has in _Belfast?"_

"It would seem you know who I am after all."

_Now I do, you fuckin Irish Prick._

"Well I _didn't," _Gemma replied. "Now I'm starting to get an idea."

"It's remarkable…terrifying how easily ideas turn into bad decisions...mistakes you can't take back, isn't it?"

"I don't have time for this shit," Gemma growled, slamming her palm hard against the wall that blocked the man she wanted to glare at from view. "So let's get to it then, _Father….._I didn't come here to talk about you or that whore you call your sister. And I don't give a shit how many hail Mary's you recommend either you bible thumping son of a _bitch. _JT had plans. He had….he had _ideas…_but that was his gripe. My son has nothing to do with it."

_And he never will._

"That's where you're wrong, Gemma," Kellan Ashby answered softly. "Your son…Jackson's _future…._it has _everything _to do with it."

* * *

**0-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-0**

_"What the Hell are you doing in here?"_

David looked up at the sound of his father's voice, his hazel eyes—eyes identical to the man stepping inside of the study—narrowing to slits.

Instead of answering, David stood up, nodding towards the open safe he'd been kneeling beside when he first walked in.

"I've known your passcode for years," David admitted. "Did you know that? It only took me one try to get it right as a matter of fact…._Sarah's birthday. _That wasn't shocking at all."

"What are you looking for?" the judged questioned, firing off a follow up before his seventeen year old son could reply to the first one. "Did your sister put you up to this? What did she—"

"I was looking for proof that Sarah's full of shit…as usual," David told him. Dropping the files in his hand on the desk in front of him, the contempt in his eyes was a foreign expression to the man on the other side of the room. It was the first time David in any way resembled the younger sister he'd spent all his life looking after. "Turns out she really is daddy's little girl. All the shit she puts everyone through? She got it from _you."_

"You got something you want to say to me?" Jacob Hale challenged. "Grow a pair for once. Make me _proud _for once. Go ahead and say what's on your mind, son."

"She was telling the truth," David lamented. "It's your fault. You're the reason I never even had a chance with her."

Jacob Hale's chuckle wasn't nearly as cruel as the spiteful look on his face. "Is that what this is about? That _girl?"_

"I know what you did to Tara."

"Good for you," his father barked. "Doesn't change a damn thing. And I have a caseload far more important than whatever teenage heartbreak you're dealing with. I also have a flight to catch. _So does your sister. _Where the Hell is she? She's not in her room packing...like I told her to."

_Like Sarah ever does anything you tell her to do._

David smirked. "The Golden child snuck out hours ago."

"Then I suggest you go find her," his father demanded. "...make yourself useful...for a change."

* * *

**0-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-0**

"_You ready to say it, yet?_" Jax asked her, his breath hot against her ear.

Tara shook her head, her smile hidden along with the rest of her face _"Never."_

"Fine by me, babe."

"Jax!" Tara squealed giggling uncontrollably as she twisted on his bed, legs thrashing, hands flying as she tried and failed to get out of his grip.

"STOP IT! _Get off of me! STOO-OP_!"

Jax chuckled along with her as he wriggled his fingers along her stomach, teasing the sides of her waist, holding her legs in place between his thighs, grabbing ahold of her arms, pinning them above her head by her wrist with one hand while the other danced a jig on every sensitive part of her body that he could find.

"Say it," Jax demanded, his voice breathy as he fought to keep the fidgeting brunette underneath him in his control. "Say it and I'll stop."

"Fuck you!" Tara screamed in between giggles. "I'm _not _saying it."

_But you think saying the word 'fuck' and 'you' in the same sentence while you're half-naked in my bedroom is a good idea?_

"We're gonna be here all night then, Knowles," he warned her, snickering when she narrowed her eyes at him, her lips pursed. Unable to resist he leaned down, sucking that pouting bottom lip of hers into his mouth.

Tara's response was immediate, almost reflexive. It wasn't long before her lips left his, kissing a trail down from her jaw to his neck before flicking her tongue against the Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

"_Jackson."_

Her voice was low—husky.

Jax shut his eyes briefly as he felt the shiver creeping its way up his spine.

"I don't think you realize what you're doing to me, baby," Tara purred. "Right now all I can think about….all I'm gonna be thinking about…every night…when I'm in bed…."

"Yeah?"

When he spoke, his voice was tight.

But it was nowhere near as strained as the stiff cock pressing against the zipper of his jeans—jeans he'd put back on with every intention of walking Tara out to her father's car, seeing her off at the driver's side door when she told him she had to leave….almost an hour ago.

"You know what I want to do with you right now?" Tara asked him, the rasp in her voice increasing the more the speed at which she spoke the words lessened. "You want to know...what I want you to do to me?"

"I'll do whatever you want me to do," Jax promised.

He meant every fuckin word, too.

"I want you…I want you to..._I want you to get me off."_

_FUCK._

"You want me to get you off, baby?" Jax drawled, leaning down to kiss her jaw. "Tell me how you want it. Anyway you—"

Jax was staring at his bedroom ceiling before he could even finish his sentence.

His arms were pinned on either side of his head, held down by the grip she had on his forearms before he could blink twice.

And Tara was straddling his waist, laughing at the stunned expression on his face before it even dawned on him what had just happened.

"_You,_" Tara said, shaking her head at him, "are proof that guys can only think with one head at a time. I could have told you I was born with a penis just now and all you would have heard are the words _I _and Penis. Oh and by the way. I said I wanted you to _get off me..._not get me off, perv."

"Getting you off would have been a lot more fun for you," Jax joked. "Too bad. Offers off the table now_._"

"Is that so?"

"Yup," Jax answered. "And another thing…you're right…as usual. Guys do have a hard time thinking with both heads. But you want to know what else is true about us?"

"What's th—_Shit," _Tara hissed as he swiftly flipped her off of him. "You're such an asshole."

Jax chuckled. "We're a lot stronger than most females," he told her as he held her arms behind her back, pinning both of her wrists together while his hand resumed its earlier torture—this time his fingers scaling along her back. "Say it, Knowles."

"I'm not saying that," Tara refused. "It sounds stupid and it's not even true. Seriously, where did you even come up with that—JAX! _Stop it…stop play—Jax! My stom….my stom….my chest—it hur—_you're hurting me!_"_

"Oh _yeah," _Jax droned, rolling his eyes as he tickled her without mercy. "You're in soooo much pain."

_That's why you can't stop laughing._

"I'm seri—_Jax…Jackson…._I HAVE ASTHMA! You're gonna...gonna make me..." Tara gasped, her voice hoarse when she muttered "I...I can't breathe!"

Jax's fingers stopped as he collapsed against her, laughing so hard that the trembling in his body was probably picking up where his frozen fingers left off. "You're so full of shit."

"Get off of me," Tara demanded, elbowing him in his stomach.

"Say it."

"Making me say it won't make it true," she told him, wriggling underneath the weight of him, struggling to buck him off. "It won't make it _make sense _either dumb ass."

"Say it."

"I have to pee."

"Say it," he insisted. "Then you can go…_pee."_

"Or I could just pee on your bed," Tara threatened.

"I hate these sheets anyway."

_"Jaxxxx," _Tara whined. "Diane's gonna be worried if I don't come home. Unlike my dad she's not used to me being gone all night."

"Okay, babe," Jax said. "Just say it _really _quickly and then you can go."

"_UGGGGGHHHH!_" Tara growled in frustration.

"I said I didn't care if you _peed_ on my bed," Jax joked. "Sounds like you're trying a different act. _Not cool, _Knowles."

"You're disgusting."

Jax chuckled. "Are you gonna say it?"

_Please don't._

_Any excuse to keep you here._

_Fuck high school and your new guidance counselor._

_Fuck Mrs. "soo…he was cute", too, _Jax thought, flashing back to the way his aunt seemed to approve of that creep in the mall.

"_Jacksonellerivemepooballs," _Tara mumbled.

Jax's ears immediately perked up, a wide smile spreading across his face. "What was that?"

"I said it," Tara snapped. "Now get the Hell off of me."

"I didn't hear you," he said. "Say it one more time…so I can _understand _you."

"JACKSON TELLER—"

"—yes?"

"—GAVE ME BLUE BALLS!"

Jax didn't move off of Tara for another fifteen minutes.

He didn't have enough energy or strength to get up _and_ laugh his ass off at the same time.

Guys and their limitations….

* * *

**0-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-0**

"What the Hell do you want?" Clay barked, leaning against the threshold of the dorm room's door.

"We need to talk."

_There is no 'we' anymore, Gem._

Gemma didn't wait for an invitation.

She pushed the door open the rest of the way, walking inside—sitting down at the foot of the bed as she heard him push the door shut.

"Unless you're here to tell me you made a _mistake _by leaving me off JT's visitation list I ain't got shit to say to you."

"What were you doing there, Clay?" Gemma wondered out loud. "Visiting the best friend you tried to—"

"—you're gonna want to be real c_areful _what you say to me," Clay warned.

"You promised me _no more," _Gemma accused. "Jackson needs his—"

"_Don't tell me what your son _needs," Clay growled. "You weren't thinking about that when you put this shit in motion!"

"Me?" Gemma stood up from the bed, her hands finding their favorite place—her hips. "Let's get one thing straight. I didn't put s_hit _in motion. That was allll you, baby."

"And you signed off on it!"

"You telling me you wouldn't have done it with or without my blessing?"

"What is this shit?" Clay shook his head at her. "Why are we talking in circles about shit we can't change… shit that was already decided before _you _ let guilt get to you."

"You're too late."

"No," Clay argued. "I'm _not. _And if you'd stop coddling your son like he's a five year old boy I could take care of—"

"He spoke to Kellan Ashby," Gemma told him. "He knows e_verything. _That Irish prick had the nerve to summon _my _son…as if I'd _ever _let any of those bastards anywhere near him."

"I'll handle the priest," Clay declared, his tone dismissive. "It's our local problem you gotta worry about."

Gemma's eyebrows bunched together in confusion. "I thought Lowell was being taken care of?"

"That shit's already in motion," Clay answered. "I'm talking about your son…your _precious_ baby boy. His girlfriend is a real problem. Needs to be handled."

Gemma nodded in agreement. "We need to find out what she knows…how much she heard," the matriarch mused. "And as for Lowell Jr. You need to be careful with him Clay. Barbara and Lowell…they were the only townies that didn't brush us off when we—"

"—We?"

"Clay," Gemma urged. "You need to remember how we do things. _Brain _over _Bullets, _baby. Bloodshed is a last resort. I got a plan. We need to—"

"—last I checked you were half-Irish and Russian," Clay interrupted. "Not _French. _What the fuck is up with all this _we _shit? And where the hell do you get off telling me how to handle my business...for _my _club? There is no fuckin _we _anymore. You burned that bridge when you bailed on me to play the role of grieving wife for that little sobbing pussy you call your son. I'm done doing your dirty work and I'm done listening to how you feel about shit that doesn't concern you. You are _not _a member of the MC. How I handle my business is just that…_my _business. The only thing I need from you is to help me tie up all the loose ends so that we're _both _in the clear."

"If JT survives he'll _never _let you take the gavel," Gemma told him.

"If you do what I tell you he won't have a choice, my love," Clay warned. "Your son? Your Old man? They're deep thinkers. But me? _I'm an action man. _And trust me, Gem….If you care about your son and keeping his _daddy _around for him as much as you _claim…._you'll fall in line. The gavel is _mine. _JT had his shot and he blew it all to Hell. That's one thing you can't deny even now."

"I'll play it your way," Gemma conceded, nodding at him. "But don't start thinking you can run _me…._Nothing about this is _club _business," she reminded him. "…and if any of your brothers knew what you did…losing the gavel would be the least of your problems. It would be smart to keep that in mind the next time you think it's okay to threaten me, you power hungry son of a _bitch._"

"You wanna know something, Gem?" Clay moved in towards her, so close she could see every hair in his nose as his nostrils flared. "Right about now…my _brain?…._it's s_creaming _bullets…You want to avoid bloodshed? Avoid giving your son another reason to cry his eyes out? I'd take care of that Tara gash. You don't want _me_ to handle it. Jackie-boy might end up being collateral damage. And no that's not a threat, Darlin. _It's a guarantee_."

"Just tell me what your plans are for JT," Gemma sneered, refusing to give him the satisfaction of acknowledge his threat.

"It's simple," Clay answered, smiling down at her glowering face. "You won't even have to lift a finger…no blood on your hands either. I only need you to do one thing for me…and it's what you do best, baby. You're gonna _lie."_

Gemma smirked. "And what lie is it I'm telling? And to who?"

"To _Jax _of course," Clay answered. "...him and his godfather."

* * *

**0-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-0**

_"Jax," _Tara breathed, leaning her head back, her eyes drifting closed as he kissed her neck. "I gotta go home."

Jax's only response was to pull her back even tighter against him, his hands folded into a tent on her stomach underneath the baggy, plaid shirt she was wearing—his shirt.

"Jax…"

"You've been saying you have to leave for two hours," he answered against her ear, before kissing the spot right behind it.

"That's because you won't let me leave!"

"Give me _some _credit, Tara," Jax asked, spinning her around, only to sit her up on the end table, knocking the ceramic bowl his parents always put their keys inside of when they first walked into the house to the floor. "You made it to the front door."

Tara reached for the doorknob attached to the front door in question, giggling when he smacked her hand away from it. "I'm serious, Jax."

"Oh, you're s_erious_," Jax echoed, pulling the buttons of his shirt apart one by one as his lips trailed down her chest. "Why are we being serious, babe? I was having so much fun being _play_-ful with you all night…"

"What the Hell did you do with my shirt?"

Jax's chuckle vibrated against her collarbone, the tickling sensation making her laugh with him. "It's some place safe."

"And my jeans?"

"Same thing."

"Those are my favorite shorts, Jax."

"Mine, too," Jax admitted. "I guess I'm not the only one that knows how great your ass looks in them."

"Hiding my clothes isn't gonna make me stay."

"I can tell," Jax teased, tugging at the waistband of the sweatpants she was wearing—pants she'd snatched out of his dresser drawer, locking the bathroom door behind her before he could stop her from putting them on. "It's okay though….I kinda like the tomboy look you got going. _Sexy."_

"Is this what you're gonna be like all the time?"

"Of course not," Jax teased her. "I'll get tired of you….eventually." He laughed when she punched him in his chest. "Okay…maybe _tired _isn't the right word…."

Tara snickered. "You are s_o _pitiful," she taunted. "all you got was a taste and I can't even take two steps without you grabbing me. What would have happened if we actually had sex?"

_Your ass would be chained to my bed right now._

Jax finally detached his lips from her skin, pulling back to wriggle his eyebrows at her suggestively. "You wanna find out?"

Tara shook her head, smirking at him. "The only way that's happening tonight is if you dream about it, Teller."

Jax shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"Okay," Tara said, raking her nails down his chest-her other hand reaching up, fingers ruffling through his hair. "I _really _didn't want to have to do this... _but_…."

Jax was falling flat on his _butt _before he'd had a chance to snap out of the daze her eyes always put him in.

The way Tara shrieked, "I gotta go!" before making a mad dash for the front door was the equivalent of the Looney Tune's roadrunner saying, "Meep! Meep!" as she twisted the door knob, pulling the door open before he could get up from his living room floor.

Jax was too busy staring at the tight ass he was chasing after to notice.

And Tara was too busy cackling like a hyena as she made a run for it to stop moving in time.

It wasn't a three car collision, but it may as well have been given how grave—how enraged the expression on Gemma Teller's face was when the brunette standing wide-eyed in front of her, barreled into her chest, nearly knocking her off of her front steps.

"Sorry, Gemma," Tara said, her mouth still slightly open even when her lips had stopped moving.

Gemma's perusal of Tara was both liquid slow and razor sharp as she eyed the young teenagers outfit. Taking in the clothes she was wearing—clothing that she recognized because she'd bought them—for her son.

When her eyes finally made there way back up Tara's face, the heat in them could sear a steak. "What?" the short-tempered mother barked. "Your drunk daddy couldn't take a week off of drinking to save up enough cash to buy you your _own _clothes?"

"Really, Ma?" Jax grumbled, shaking his head at her.

"You want me to stop d_riving you crazy?_" Gemma addressed her son, as she rocked back on one heel. "How about showing your mother some goddamn respect? You know I don't want this bitch in my house. Why is she here, Jackson?"

"I invited her," Jax argued. "Since when can't I have friends over?"

It felt wrong, saying it—he didn't even like the way it sounded.

But it also somehow felt wrong to use any other title at the moment.

"_Friends?_" Gemma chuckled. "Okay, sweetheart. If that's how you want to play it. I guess there's one good thing that's come out of this shit. Looks like she finally spread her legs for you. Maybe now you can move on to someone that isn't gonna drive _me _crazy."

"I'll see you in school, Jax," Tara said. Without turning around to face him, she stepped forward, headed for the first of the eight concrete steps in front of the Teller household.

Jax grabbed her arm. Slowly—softly, he spun her around.

It took a moment for him to see the upset and confusion in Tara's eyes. He was too busy glaring at his mother as he inched his face closer to hers, one hand light gripping Tara's waist.

By the time his eyes flitted to hers, the ocean blue weren't even an inch away from the green as he pressed his mouth to hers.

He kissed her slowly.

Thoroughly.

Deeply.

They were so lost in the sensation, it was a miracle either one of them found their way out.

"Goodnight, Tara."

Jax made a mental note to tease her about how red her face was later.

"'Nite, Jackson," she tossed back, making him chuckle under his breath when she stuck her tongue out behind Gemma's back, tripping down the steps as a direct result.

"Was that supposed to prove something?" Gemma asked him as he watched her head towards the Cutlass parked in front of the yard. "If so, who were you proving something to? Me? Her? Or _yourself?"_

"Where were you tonight?" Jax countered. When she didn't answer immediately, he nodded his head at her, smirking. "I guess its okay for you to leave your family to go on a road trip to Bakersfield but me watching a movie with Tara is a problem."

"That's what you two were doing?" Gemma questioned. "Watching a movie? That must have been some horror film. _Scared the clothes right off of her."_

"It was the Wizard of Oz actually," Jax bit back. "Tommy's favorite. We did watch a horror movie earlier though. She didn't let my hand go _once _the entire time we watched it. But don't worry, Ma. If you're not too busy tomorrow you and me can watch it together. It's called _My dad is a fuckin vegetable and my mother doesn't give a shit."_

Jax felt the sting of his mother's hand when she slapped him.

But neither one of them heard the sound it made when her palm connected with his face.

Car horns blaring, screeching tires and a crash that made them both jump drowned out the sound completely.

Gemma twisted around just in time to see sparks flying as the wires from the telephone pole across the way flew down to the ground.

"TARA!"

There was nothing _nearly _about it this time.

The teenager barreling into her this time _did_ knock her backwards, off the steps in his haste to rush past her, hopping over the steps instead of running down them.

"_Jackson!" _Gemma screamed, ignoring the pain shooting through the soles of her feet as she ran after him in the five inches leather boots on her feet.

She should have saved her breath.

Jax wasn't hearing anything that wasn't the sound of the car horn blaring as she slumped forward, her forehead pressed against it.

He wasn't seeing anything that wasn't the hood of the car veered up on the sidewalk, smashed against the utility pole.

He didn't even notice the other car.

All he saw was Tara.

All he could focus on was that she couldn't see him—she couldn't hear him.

She wasn't moving.

And his feet didn't stop moving until he reached her car door.

Gemma was right on his heel, bracing a hand against his shoulder as he tugged at the handle.

"Jackson!" she yelled. "You can't move—_listen—y_ou're not supposed to move her—JACKSON!"

Before she could move out of the way, the force of his elbow knocked her back on her ass as Jax shoved his mother aside, yanking the car door open.

Tearing at the seat belt tangled around her neck, her waist.

Slowly and gingerly as he could manage, he pulled her from the car, falling to his knees, cradling her head in his arms.

He brushed her hair out of her face. "Tara?" His hands were trembling, his whole body shaking—the tremors only increased the longer she remained still. "_TARA?!"_

He didn't even noticed his mother dialing the phone in her hand—he was completely oblivious to her pacing towards the car smoking on the other end of the street.

He didn't hear a word she'd said to the 911 operator on the other end of line.

It was the first time Jax had ever questioned if the family curse truly did skip him.

His heart didn't feel as healthy as it used to feel—in no way strong enough to handle the stress, the bloodcurdling arrest it was under.

And it wasn't until he saw Tara's eyelids fluttering—not until he heard the tiny wheeze fight its way up her throat that Jax was convinced the heart in his chest might keep on beating.

* * *

**0-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-0**

_"Is Tara….is she gon….is-she-gon-be okay?" _Sarah slurred, shoving the hands of the paramedics away as they tried to push her back on the stretcher. "Jax?"

Even Gemma couldn't have fathomed her son's reaction to hearing her voice.

His head snapped towards her, rage darkening the blues of his eyes as he glared at her.

"_I'm….I'm sorry, Jax…I didn…I did…please…she gonna be okay?"_

_"_You really gonna sit there and pretend you care about her? Huh? You stupid whore!"

"Jackson," Gemma started. "You need to—"

"You stupid..._whooore,"_ Jax screamed louder, charging towards her. "You ruin everything you touch!"

"That's enough, son." Jax spun around, knocking Wayne Unser's hand off his shoulder. "She doesn't need any of that right now. Tara's not the only one that's hurt."

"She's the only one that doesn't _deserve _it," the angry teen snapped back, bumping shoulders with the chief of Police, shoving him out of his way as he switched gears headed towards the girl he actually cared about.

_"On three….One..two, _three!"

_"Everything hurts," _Tara moaned, her voice hoarse as tears poured down her swelling face.

"You're gonna be fine, sweetheart," the EMT standing next to her head assured, checking that the brace on her neck was secure while his partner secured her other end on the stretcher. "You'll feel better just as soon as we can get an I.V into you, okay?"

"Is she really gonna be okay?" Jax questioned, jogging alongside them as they rushed her towards the rig of the ambulance. He came to a stop in front of the door, his eyes wide, concern and fear swirling in the indigo as he waited for someone to answer his question.

"You gotta move out of the way, sweetie," the female EMT told him when they were finished loading her inside. "The sooner we get her to Mary—"

"—you're taking her to _St. Thomas," _Unser instructed. "Her aunt is already waiting for her there."

The EMT nodded.

"Get out of the way, son," Unser urged. "They'll take care of her. Don't worry."

Jax moved away from the door like they asked.

It just wasn't in the direction they intended.

Both EMT's were already shaking their heads as he lifted one leg up.

"You can't—"

Jax shook his head. "—I'm coming," he said simply, brushing past the woman to sit in the spot next to Tara's head.

"Sweetheart"—the EMT urged.

"Listen, son"—Unser started at the same time.

"Jackson, you gotta let them"—Gemma spoke out with them in unison

"I'M FUCKIN GOING WITH HER!" Jax screamed, reaching for her hand—the hand that sadly was the only part of her that remained unblemished, as if they needed a visual confirmation that he wasn't moving.

"Sir," the male Emergency medical technician grumbled, eyes flitting between the injured girl and the boy—who wasn't family by any legal or biological means-who refused to budge.

Unser waved his hand. "Just go ahead."

"Wayne!" Gemma shrieked.

Chief Unser shrugged. "What the Hell do you want me to do, taze him? Or do you want him to knock me on my ass like he did to you ten minutes ago?"

"Sir—"

"Just let him ride with her to the damn hospital!" Unser snapped, before walking back towards his police sedan, mumbling under his breath. "…..before we all end up needing a stretcher….._fuckin crazy ass kids_…and Laura wonders why I don't want any….they think they…"

Gemma Teller watched as her son held on to Tara's hand like it was a lifeline—peering down at her face like she was only thing that mattered.

The way he was looking at her—it was terrifying.

It was like the mere thought of losing her would be the end of the world—the end of _his _world.

JT used to look at her that same way.

_Jesus fuckin H Christ._

Hurting _her_ would hurt him, too_._

Gemma stood there frozen as the double doors were pulled shut, sirens blaring as they drove off, the ambulance that was transporting the other injured teenager riding closely behind it.

The SAMCRO matriarch had a single thought running through her mind on a never ending loop as she turned on her heel, walking back down the street towards her house.

_I am so FUCKIN screwed._

Clay might have to handle Tara after all.

She couldn't put Jax through that again—she was already regretting doing it the first time.

* * *

**7, 675 Words.**

So, it's official. It would seem I'm incapable of writing a SHORT chapter. Apologies to those who asked for "smaller doses" as Tara would say LOL. I'm a rambler monster, for real. *Nick Jonas voice* _I can't helppp it..._

_ENJOY YOUR HOLIDAYS FOLKS!_

I was gonna wait until after ringing in the New Year to finish this but I decided to finish everything I've already started before the ball drops. Not that I'm not superstitious or anything...(lol)

What did you think of the chapter? favorite moments? predictions? THOUGHTS overall?

**|REVIEW|**


	55. Chapter 49

**A/N: **When tragedy strikes, when accidents...split second moments force us to put aside our fears, our animosity, our dysfunctions, any hesitations and confront how we _truly_ feel. That's **_Clarity_**. It's awful when it has to come to that though. When _fear _or _grief _is the trigger...when sometimes that's the only thing that gets us to be honest with ourselves...and _them. _I'm guilty of this. I'm sure some of you are as well. This is a random musing so don't let me get you all melancholy around the holidays. I just think it's important that when we're fighting with our parents or siblings, our best friend's, spouses, etc...we gotta really think about what we would want our last conversation, our last words, our last moment to be with them whenever we're tempted to hold a grudge or lash out and then walk away. As human beings, it's pretty much inevitable that we're doomed to do the exact opposite of what I'm suggesting, of what we _should_ do. **We can try like HELL **not to **though. **#JustMyThoughts #YouCanKeepYourPenny

**NOW...**

**Onto the very **TEENAGE **angst I cooked up for you guys. I hope you enjoy this chapter. By the time I finished switching between the scenes it got to be _wayyy_ too long even for me. So I split it in half. The **second **half has the moment most of you have been waiting for ever since Tara and Jax agreed to "**leave the rest alone**", the word "**cool**" included during their second day of detention way back in |**CH6

** Let me know.**

Oh, and **FYI: **Verbally, I do a pretty good cockney, Irish &amp; even Italian accent...but **writing **any of the above? I'm not even gonna try. So you'll just have to put your imagination to work for certain characters lol.

**\- Veritable Old LADY Crow**

* * *

"Did you clear this with Murphy?" the silver-haired woman asked, peering up at her from over the glasses sliding down her nose.

Diane Knowles nodded, holding out the paper in her hand. "Call her if you need to confirm anything," she told her. "And if it's at all possible I'd also like it if they move her to room four-one-twelve after the procedure. It'll actually make things a lot easier."

"No problem, Dear," the nurse said, nodding as she studied the paper she'd been given, typing the information into the computer. "I just need to print out a few documents for you to sign. I also have to give your insurance provider a call to confirm. Shouldn't take more than an hour or so. I have a few patients ahead of her."

"Thanks a lot, Patricia," Diane said, smiling. "I really do appreciate this."

"I'm sure you'll find a way to make it up to me," Patricia teased as she reached down to pull several pages from the printer under the desk.

Despite her mood, Diane managed a small smile. "Of course. Just let me know if…" Diane paused midsentence as someone caught her eye from across the hall. "I'll be right back," she told the nurse still typing away at the computer. "Just a second..._Jackson!_"

Jax turned his head, his eyes going from narrow with confusion to wide with surprise in a matter of seconds.

Diane watched him, smirking to herself as the teenage boy appraised her attire—blue eyes flitting up and down as he took in her navy-blue uniform pants and the blue jays stitched throughout her matching shirt.

"_You work here?"_ Jax asked her, staring at the St. Thomas employee key-card clipped onto the breast pocket of her scrub top.

Diane nodded. "Technically my first shift isn't supposed to start for another two hours, but yeah. Tara didn't tell you I was sticking around?"

Jax nodded. "I didn't know you were a nurse though."

"Nurse _Practicioner," _Diane corrected, laughing when his eyebrows threaded together. "…That would be what the _'P' _is for although I guess it's all the same to you...What are you still doing here? I know you bullied your way into riding here with her but visiting hours don't start for a few hours. You must be really good at slipping past security."

"I was sleeping in my old man's room," Jax admitted. "Well…I was_ in_ there anyway. He's on the floor below this one."

"Thought you'd sneak your way back up here?"

Jax shrugged, not an ounce of remorse at being caught breaking the rules in his eyes. "I wanted to check on her."

"Yeah." Diane absently pulled at her long, auburn ponytail. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about….Tara was coming from your house when she got in the accident…"

Jax nodded, scrubbing a hand across his face. "Yeah…we were hanging out."

_Yeah, I bet._

"What's going on with you two?" Diane shook her head, sighing when his immediate response was to look down at the floor. "Look, Jackson…I'm sorry about what happened to your father...and…and I'm not here to play mother to anyone. Even if I was I know I haven't earned that right yet…but here's the thing….I know Tara… Gracie is just the same as she was when we were younger…she tends to put all her focus on what other people need…she puts everyone first whether they deserve it or not and most of the time she forgets to take care of herself… ... ...now I know I don't have to tell you how smart she is…"

Jax cracked a smile, looking up at her. "She's a nerd," he joked.

Diane nodded. "She's a good girl…and they always seem to go for the bad boys. I should know. I was the same way when I was a teenager…and it really hasn't been that long."

Jax's smile faltered. "I don't know what you heard or what"—he cut his sentence short when Diane raised a hand, shaking her head at him.

"Trust me_, _sweetie. I'm the _last_ person that needs the 411 on SAMCRO. I'm not talking about your father's MC…or even your family. I'm talking about _you…._Tall…gorgeous…and quite the sweet talker, too. There's probably a picture of _you_ next to the word jailbait in the dictionary…" When Jax chuckled, she couldn't help but join in with him. "….I have no doubt that every girl in this town is running behind you. And you know what? The playboy thing I can live with. Tara's strong…independent, has a mind of her own—"

"—and she's not gonna fall for any of my shit," Jax blurted, rolling his eyes. "Trust me, Diane. I _know._"

_And I bet you have the blue balls to prove it._

"She's stubborn," Diane agreed. "…doesn't bend for anyone…but that's usually a gift and a curse when it comes to teenage girls….because even when they want things that aren't good for them, there's no telling them anything…and trying to fight that just makes them more determined. _Ask me how I know._"

"You don't want her around me."

It wasn't quite a question, but his voice went up a little too high at the end for it to be a statement.

"I don't want her risking her future…or getting hurt holding onto the things she wants that aren't good for her."

_It's time to break the cycle._

"You don't think I'm good enough," Jax said.

_I don't know._

_The Jury's still out on that kid._

Diane shook her head, deciding that harsh or not, he was due a good dose of honesty. "I think you're spoiled and you have a temper…and I know_ all_ about boys and their tempers. That scene you caused at the mall….I might have laughed it off at the time but—"

"—that guy ran into her on purpose," Jax urged, the temper she spoke of flaring up quick as a hiccup. "I saw him do it."

"Maybe," Diane replied, but the look in her eyes made it clear she didn't believe him for a second. "….or maybe you just didn't like the fact that some other guy was flirting with your girlfriend…she is your girlfriend, right?"

_I am SO not buying the best friends who flirt bit that little girl is trying to sell me._

Jax's eyes were facing the floor again. "I don't know."

_Typical._

"You gotta give me something, Kid," Diane told him. "Tell me something you _do _know."

He was quiet so long she was starting to question whether or not he'd heard the question.

When Jax finally lifted his head to meet her eyes, Diane had her answer before he even opened his mouth.

_Aw shit. _

"You don't know if you can trust me with her," Jax said, simply. "…and I _know_ you have every right to feel that way…I know Tara is way more stubborn than even you think she's is...and I'm counting on that because I know how she feels about me…and it's the same way I feel about her… ... ...I know there's a chance you might end up hating me because as long as she wants me around I'm not leaving for anyone, _including _you…and it doesn't matter if she's my _best _friend _or_ girl-friend… You can call it what you want. I don't need a tittle to _know _she's the only _girl _I care about…and the only one I want."

_Jesus._

Knowles Women.

New generation.

Same history repeating.

Diane let out a low whistle, eyebrows rising as she shook her head, smiling at him. "You're going to make my life difficult, aren't you?"

_It's me and Pat all over again._

"Depends on what you consider difficult," Jax answered cheekily.

Diane laughed, waving her hand towards the room on the end of the hallway. "_Go ahead_. I'll give you ten minutes. After that you gotta go. And if _Sargent Nurse _over there catches you, my name's _Bennett _and I ain't in it. I never saw you. _Capiche?_"

Jax nodded, resuming his stroll down the corridor without another word.

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"I gotta be honest, Clay…I'm more than a little disappointed…I was under the impression that the next conversation we had would be us making this partnership official…"

Clay sat beside him on the bench, tipping the open carton in his hand towards him.

When the dark-haired man shook his head, Clay lifted a cigarette from the pack for himself, lighting it, blowing the measured pull he took from it out through his nose before responding.

"That internal problem we discussed? Things didn't go as smoothly as planned," Clay admitted, staring across the way at the shuttered liquor store on the other end of the mildly busy street. "…there's still some loose ends that need tying…a few more things I need to put into motion before I can call a vote."

"Business is business, Clay," he told him, pulling a cigar from the inside pocket of his jacket. "I'm already losing money by pushing the deal back six weeks. If you're here to tell me you need an extension we can end the conversation right here, _Cabron. _You know I'd rather work with the _SONS, _but you're not the only MC looking to branch out…"

Clay turned towards him, blue eyes blazing at he pointed an angry finger at him. "You gave me your _word_—"

"—there's no such thing as promises, _Mano,_" the man interrupted. "Not in my line of business or yours. You know that….but as it happens….I _am _a man of my word. I told you six weeks…you got five more to make it happen. No more than that. You need to get your club on board. We've already set up our Operation Stateside."

Clay hesitated a moment before rising to stand with the man already up on his feet. SAMCRO's acting President held his hand out to him, smiling as the man shook it. "_Stay close. _I'll be in touch real soon."

"_Hope so_," Romeo Parada answered, nodding up at the four men standing several feet away, hands gripping the guns hidden beneath their suit jackets.

Clay waved his hand, waiting until the five men drove off to let the forced smile on his face falter.

Tara Knowles was the least of his worries.

Piney was going to ruin everything if he couldn't find a way to get him on board.

And with Gemma switching teams that seemed even less likely.

JT survived.

Clay wondered if his best friend would be so lucky.

_Not if I handle it personally._

Lightening never struck the same place twice.

Did good luck?

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She was sleeping when he first entered the room.

He thought she was anyway.

Tara lifted her head, glancing up at the sound of the hospital room door snapping shut behind him.

And the contempt in her eyes had Jax's mind immediately flashing back to the three years he'd spent with her giving him that same glare.

Shaking it off, he continued making his way towards her, chalking the anger in her expression up to her being irritable from all the pain she was in.

"I thought you left."

Jax slid the chair next to her bed closer before sitting down in it. "I went to see JT…snuck back up here first opening I saw. How are you feeling, babe?"

He reached to brush her hair back, his eyes narrowing in confusion when she moved her head away from his hand.

"_Tara?_"

"Sarah's the one that crashed into me," Tara commented, staring blankly at the patch of egg-white wall underneath the mounted televison.

Jax nodded even though she couldn't see him. "Yeah."

"I heard the nurses talking," Tara told him. "They said she had drugs in her system….she was high and that's why she lost control of the car."

"We both know what a train wreck she is," Jax commented. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"Is _she?_" Tara asked, her voice small. "Is Sarah okay?"

"I don't know," Jax said. "And I really don't give a shit."

When would he learned? Feigning disinterest, or in this case, being sincere in expressing it didn't impress Tara.

Any other girl, sure.

Not her.

"Of course you don't," Tara snapped, turning to glare at him. "You're selfish. All you ever do is think about yourself."

_What the Hell?_

"Tara—"

"Were you getting high with her again?" Tara questioned. "Is that why she started back—"

"_No_," Jax answered quickly, shaking his head. "She did that on her own. I don't even know when she—"

"—are you lying to me?"

If his eyes grew any wider, the corners of them would split. "Nooo, Tara. Of course not. Why would you even think—"

"Oh _please." _Tara rolled her eyes. "Save the bullshit indignation, Jackson….it's not like it would be the first time. You lied to me back then, too. You remember? _That's all it was, babe…I promise. _You lying through your teeth is why she almost died the first time. Even if you're telling me the truth now it still doesn't—_"_

"I tried it _one _time," Jax stressed. "…and I hated it. I didn't know she was going to do it again. I was with _you _that night. I thought—"

"No, you didn't," Tara argued. "You didn't _think. _If you were honest with me I would have…I could have…I could have stopped her."

"You're talking about something that happened three years ago, Tara," Jax countered, his voice strained as he struggled to keep his frustration out of it.. "What happened then has nothing to do with what Sarah—"

"—except it _does, _Jax." Before he could fix his mouth to ask her 'how' Tara was crying and he was jumping back when she jerked away from his second attempt to reach for her. "She loved you since we were kids," Tara croaked. "But you knew that didn't you? Of course you did…it wasn't like she tried to hide it…she all but made me sign in blood that you were off limits to me...You could get her to do anything you wanted her to…get her to go along with anything you said… you knew _exactly _how she felt about you. And you still slept with her….you fucked my best friend….and then you _fucked her over…_and I wrote her off. I took _your _side...just like any one of your other _girls_ would have...my_ God_, I'm just as bad as they are."

_Jesus Christ._

"I _never_ felt the same way she did," Jax told her. "And I can't control how she feels about me any more than you _think _I have any control over the shit she does. I can't stop you feeling guilty for no reason either but you can't put that on me, babe. This isn't my fault. And this isn't on me _or_ you. This shit is on Sarah."

Tara winced, her uninjured hand flying up towards her face, fingers pressing against her temple. "My head hurts…I think I'll try to go back to sleep now…."

Jax nodded. "Okay," he told her. "I'll stay here with you until you—"

Tara shook her head, wincing at the sharp pain the motion caused her. "I don't want you to…I want you to leave."

_No._

"Babe, listen to me—"

"I think I should stay away from you," Tara admitted. "…before I end up high on cocaine…crashing my car into people because I can't get over you….no matter how many times you hurt me."

"Tara, I would never—"

_"Just go."_

Tara shifted around, angling her body as far in the opposite direction as the sling holding her arm up—the hard cast around her hand and wrist would allow.

Jax stood up slowly, slipping through space between the chair and her bed.

"Tara—"

"GET OUT!" she screamed, sobbing.

She shut her eyes against the pain this time.

And without another word to her, Jax quietly left the room, ignoring the pain it caused him to do it—silently hating himself for being the cause of any of hers.

Whether she was overreacting or not.

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"_Uncle!_"

Flip "Chibs" Telford held his long arms out wide as they ran across the clubhouse lounge towards each other, meeting in front of the bar.

"How you been, kid?" Chibs asked, pulling his youngest nephew into a tight hug, slapping him on his back. "It's been wayyyy too long."

"Aye." Padraic Telford nodded his head in agreement. "I almost didn't make it Stateside. Jimmy has me running the crew back home….but Cammy's boy took two in the chest three nights ago."

"_Jesus_." Chibs shook his head. "How's Eddie doing?"

"He'll have to give up his dream of modeling in his knickers," Padraic joked, chuckling along with his uncle. "But he'll survive. Jimmy's letting his Da' stay back with him just as a precaution…we still don't know exactly what went down."

"There's a lot of that going on lately."

Padraic took a quick look around the vacant bar. "Where's everyone?"

"Clay's got them handling some shit up in Oakland," Chibs explained. "Left me and Piney here to finish assembling the guns for our run tomorrow."

"Well where is the fat bastard?" Padraic craned his neck towards the open door behind the bar. "I still remember that two-K he owes me from that last poker game."

"He went to find his boy," Chibs told him. "Two of Opie's friends got into a car accident late last night….matter fact, you remember Tara, right?"

"_Little Grace_?" Padraic's eyebrows rose when Chibs nodded. "Well s_hitee…._is she gonna be okay?"

"I hope so," Chibs answered, shrugging. "her getting hurt is the last thing Jackie-boy needs right now."

Padraic chuckled. "Tara and Jackson, huh?"

"Aye…that little girl's got a mouth worse than her aunt," Chibs commented. "You shoulda heard what she had to say to Gemma a couple days ago."

_It's like history repeating._

"Poor Jackie," Padraic said, shaking his head. "His ma'll probably run her out of town, too, soon enough." Chib's snickered—laughing harder when his nephew's annoyed expression intensified. "What's so funny, Uncle?"

"Still crying ya eyes out, eh? Gemma stirs up a lot of shitee around here," Chibs told him in between guffaws, "But that lass taking off was all on you, _Paddy_. And ye know it, too."

The young man scowled. "I never wanted Di to leave. I asked her to leave _with _me," he argued. "It's JT's crazy Old lady that run her off!"

"Ancient history, kid." Chibs clapped a hand against his shoulder before walking around him, behind the bar to grab two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey off the top shelf . Pouring the amber liquid into the glasses, he slid one over to the sulking young man on the other side of the counter. "Chin up, Lad. Ain't no need in griping bout the past."

"Aye."

Padraic tilted his head, downing the shot before slamming the glass against the counter.

"I hope that little girl's okay," Chibs commented, a couple more shots later. "Her father's a selfish bastard…it's too bad Di didn't think to take her niece with her when she left…too young to play mother I guess._"_

"Young and s_elfish_," Padraic fumed grumbling under his breath.

_Almost seven years and this poor bastard's still holding on, _Chibs thought to himself.

Out loud he said nothing—and with good reason.

It wasn't like he had any right judging him.

Fiona had taken off with Carian almost ten years ago.

It was that very reason, Chibs knew _exactly_ what it felt like to have your heart ripped out of your chest.

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Tara woke up suddenly, squinting against the brightness in her private hospital room. She couldn't tell what was hurting her eyes more.

The light seeping in through the open blinds.

Or the wide, mischievous grin on Opie Winston's face.

"_You look like roadkill."_

"Thanks," Tara croaked, clearing her throat as she slid upright, reaching towards the table to the right of her. The table in question immediately rolled towards her and Tara looked up to see another smiling visitor standing on the other side of her bed—and another two sitting side by side in the room's window nook.

"How you feeling, sweetheart?" Piney asked her as he poured ice-water from the plastic pitcher she'd been reaching for, dropping a straw in the tiny cup before handing it to her.

"Like I've been drugged," Tara answered, slurping the water down. _And beaten within an inch of my life by Big Foot._

"That's cuz you're on the _gooood _stuff," Donna told her, standing up from the window.

Wendy was right behind her as they both walked towards her, neither one of them empty handed.

"Here," Wendy said, dropping a stack of magazines on the table in front her. "In case you get bored with all that _free _cable your aunt hooked you up with."

"The TV was watching me," Tara joked. "I couldn't sleep all night. Finally dozed off a couple hours ago. How long you guys been here?"

_And what's the deal with watching me sleep? Am I the only one that finds that shit creepy?_

"Came straight after school," Donna answered, placing a thick orange folder on top of the stack of magazines. "I got your homework assignments for you and the notes from English. Your friend…I think he said his name was… _Liam?_ Leon? Something like that…anyway he damn near ran me over with his bike trying to give me the Chemistry notes for you…and Wendy's gonna let you copy her notes for History…since _Opie _decided hanging out with Lowell was more important than going to class…"

_Good for you, Ope, _Tara thought, smiling at him as she made a mental note to ask Diane to stop by LJ's father's room on the floor below to check on him.

She'd never say it loud—and she didn't have to. Anyone who knew Opie knew he was the guy who always came through when you needed him, whether you were too proud to ask or not.

Opie rolled his eyes, sliding away from the hand his father reached out to smack him over the head with.

"Where's Jax?" Piney asked. "He left the clubhouse before I did. I figured he'd be glued to the chair next to your bed when he took off."

No one noticed the guilty expression that crossed Tara's face—except Wendy of course.

And no one noticed the annoyed expression on Opie's face—except his girlfriend Donna, naturally.

"He came in with her last night," Wendy answered, eyeing Tara suspiciously. "He probably went to go see his Old man."

"He must have," Opie agreed, his expression darkening even more. "I _know _he's not visiting Sarah."

Donna turned her body all the way towards him, one hand sliding up to rest on her hip. "Did _you_ want to go check on her?"

"She's already gone," Opie answered, turning on his heel, heading towards the door. "I'm gonna go find Jax….see if there's any news with JT."

Wendy jutted her thumb towards the door as it shut behind him. "What's up with him?"

"What's your problem?" Donna asked, finally noticing the look on Tara's face.

"The doctor can't give me any of the _real _good stuff," Tara grumbled, sitting back against her pillows.

"Oh yeah, I heard about what happened," Donna said as she moved to press the button Tara couldn't reach, that elevated the top of her bed. Tara smiled at the pint-sized teenage girl, knowing damn well that she was only being nice by not calling Tara out on her piss-poor attempt at avoiding the real answer to Donna's question. "Diane told me. It's a good thing they figured out what was wrong in time. Poor thing…you come in all broke up and they almost poisoned you to death."

"How long did it take them to figure out what was wrong?" Wendy wondered out loud.

Tara shook her head, overjoyed that her ears weren't ringing from the gesture like they'd been before. "They _didn't _actually," she responded. "It was a lucky guess..._my _lucky guess." Tara nodded up at Piney. "I don't why but while I was lying there with my throat about to close up I remembered what Opie told me about what happened to you when you were in the hospital a couple years ago."

Piney nodded, his eyes shining with sudden comprehension. "You shoulda seen Mary," he grunted, chuckling. "She was ready to kill every nurse assigned to my room. Hell, to be honest I was, too. Took them idiots _three _days to figure out that _they _were the ones making me sick."

Donna turned towards him, one eyebrow cocked. "You're allergic to morphine, too?"

Piney nodded. "Yeah, so is Opie."

"Clearly, it's not as _rare _as Di thinks it is," Tara commented. "It's okay though. This Percocet has me feeling _pretty damn good _considering how much pain I was in last night."

"So what's the verdict?" Piney questioned.

Tara took a deep breath, her eyes darting towards the ceiling as she fired off the list of injuries in her head. "Mild concussion…fractured wrist…three broken fingers… my shoulder was dislocated. I'm sure you can imagine how much _fun _it was having them reset it…apparently my ribs only _feel _like they're broken. They're just bruised…oh and my humerus bone snapped in two right in the middle of my friggin arm..._butterfly break..._so I got a choice between robbing a bank to pay for the surgery or waiting ten to fourteen months to see if the bones reset properly on their own."

"Well if you need any _guns_ to carry out the heist"—Wendy cut her sentence short, failing to swallow her smile when Piney, the_ 'motorcyle enthusiast'_ glared back at her.

Donna turned her head, snickering behind her hand.

"Your old man's insurance doesn't cover it?" Piney asked.

Tara shook her head. "My aunt is trying to get me on hers…but they're giving her a hard time. Meanwhile I'm stuck my bones clicking in and out of place every time I move."

Wendy and Donna both winced at the same time.

Piney let out a low whistle, sympathy flooding his facial expression. "Sorry, kid."

_So am I, Yogi._

_So the Hell am I._

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Jax was slipping out of his father's hospital room, pulling the door shut behind him when Opie turned the corner.

Jax nodded his head up at him as he approached. "What's up, bro."

"I just came from seeing Tara," Opie said. "Piney's with her now. Him and Donna...and _Wendy._"

Jax smirked. "I'm starting to think Wendy's looking to replace me," he joked.

Opie didn't crack a smile. "How you figure that?"

"I guess I'm not much of a friend without the added benefits." Jax wriggled his eyebrows. "….looks like I'm only good for weed and sex. Blondie's looking for someone to go shopping with and talk _90210."_

"Yeah…maybe."

Jax finally noticed his mood, his eyebrows threading together in confusion. "What's going on with you, man? I thought you said you just came from seeing Tara. She's gonna be fine, bro. _Physically _anyway. I got no idea how to navigate through the shit that goes on in that girls head. One minute we're good and the next she's spitting fire at me."

"I have a pretty idea good idea which one she was doing last night."

Jax nodded, running a hand through his slicked back hair. "She flipped out on me out of nowhere, bro."

Opie's nod looked a lot like approval. "About what?"

Jax raised his hands, dropping them to his sides. "She thinks what happened with Sarah is my fault…like I'm the reason she crashed into her. I didn't tell that bitch to drive over to my house. The only girl I wanted with me last night was the girl that w_as _with me last night. I guess she's feeling guilty about telling Sarah off the other day. She really shouldn't. That girl was a train wreck before Tara decided to cut her off."

"Right."

Jax's eyebrows rose. "Right?"

Opie shrugged. "How's your old man doing?"

"About the same as before," Jax answered quickly. "I tell you Tara's tweaking on me again and your only comment is _alright? _Where's my lecture about defusing the crazy?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"Whatever is on your mind…like you always do," Jax retorted, his blue eyes widened. "Unless there's a stick lodged up your ass the only other reason for that look on your face is you having something you need to get off your chest. _Spit it out."_

"It's nothing, bro," Opie said. "I just think Tara has a point. That's all."

_The Fuck?_

"You're shitting me, right?"

"This kinda shit always happens when Sarah's around you. I don't if its cuz you get her hopes up or if—"

"—Oh give me a fuckin break," Jax barked, his face twisting up.

Opie's cool exterior faded with the sudden flare in nostrils. "All the breaks people give you all the time you should be one broke motherfucker by now."

"What the Hell is wrong with—"

"There's nothing wrong with _me_," Opie interrupted. "I just find it funny that you get a pass for all the dick moves you pull but every time Sarah screws up _everyone _including the guy who doesn't mind using her—_knowing it fucks with her head—_is ready to string her up and throw stones."

And just like that Opie's nose wasn't the only one with flaring nostrils.

"I guess Tinkerbell wasn't overreacting after all," Jax accused, tilting his head as he glowered at his best friend. "Princess Hale must have been screwing you, too…same as before. I can't believe it only took a week for that rancid pussy to have your nose wide open _all over again. _Come on, Ope. Even for you…that's just sad."

"You treat _every _girl you get with like shit!" Opie argued, his voice rising at the end.

"And you treat them like the Angels they _aren't," _Jax bit back, his voice even louder. "And what do you get for it? _Played like a fuckin fiddle! _Or harassed…falsely accused, although I guess Donna's assumptions weren't all that _false."_

"I didn't sleep with her!"

"Well maybe you should have!" Jax snapped. "You obviously wanted to! Maybe if _you _could hold her attention for five minutes Tara wouldn't be lying in a hospital bed. _Seriously_, bro. Miss me with the bullshit! You want to be the perfect boyfriend that never fucks up? Good for you. But don't be bitchin at me because you don't have to the balls to go for you want….or because _who _you want, wants me!"

"I love you, Jax," Opie said after a moment of strained silence. "You're my brother…and you know you can always can come to me—"

_Here comes the fuckin sermon…._

"—yeah, yeah, yeah." Jax waved a hand at him. "I love you, too. How about we get to the part that's gonna piss me off."

_The part where you're talking out the side of your fuckin neck._

"You know you can always come to me for the truth," Opie finished.

Jax rolled his eyes. "Right…even when it's only _your_ truth." Jax's eyes flew down from the ceiling to meet Opie's when he heard him chuckle. He might have thought the argument and all the anger that went with it was gone—if he didn't know him so well. "Just say what you gotta say."

"You want to know what _my _truth is, Jax?" Opie said. He nodded his head. "_Here's _my truth…I don't give a shit what you do with Maize…or Ima…or Stacey…or even Wendy. If you ever—"

"—what about, _Sarah?" _Jax sneered, unable to resist taunting him.

"_Tara's_ not a fuckin plaything," Opie growled. "And if you treat her like one, you and me? _We're gonna have a _real fuckin _problem."_

Jax smirked, pursing his lips as he nodded up at him. "Understood, _Dad._ You want me to promise I'll stay away from _Cokehead Barbie, _too?"

Jax was too busy laughing at Opie's sour expression to see the first punch coming.

* * *

**QUICK FYI: **I did promise you guys no more Sarah Hale in the story. I **meant** it. She's **D-O-N-E **as far as this story goes **but** I was inspired by a message I received to write something for her, a sort of better send off than almost killing her childhood best friend and thinking everyone she grew up with most of her life (including her family) hated her. I'll be posting a one shot featuring a "goodbye" moment with her even though the ONE-SHOT is really about **Opie Winston** (An **M** Rating for sexual content included. P.S: **Hell No, **he's not sleeping with Sarah)

Be on the look out for that. You guys should check it out for him &amp; Donna even if you hate her. Or don't **LOL**. Either way I know of at least one reader that may enjoy it. She inspired it.

Now on to the fun part of this fanfic (for **me** LOL) ...thoughts on the chapter? AKA the rise before the **climax **in the next one? I'm glad you guys like the new structure because to be honest I'm kinda struggling with it. It's easier telling it from one POV at a time, especially when that POV is usually my two favorite SOA characters.

**And (if you celebrate it) I hope all of you guys enjoyed Christmas with your loved ones. Still slightly buzzed over here.**

6,200 Words **|REVIEW| (if you didn't comment on **CH48 **already, please **do.**)**


	56. Chapter 50

**A/N: **I hope you guys like it. That's all I've got to say.

Oh, and if you **do **like it, sound off in the review section.

Iff you **don't**...

*****clears throat to sing***** _THE COLD NEVER BOTHERED ME __ANYWAY!_

**RANDOM FYI: **You guys are probably feeling _pretty _spoiled with all the frequent updates. Word to the wise? That's only because the semester ended. I got another one coming up fast so enjoy while it last, folks.

**\- V. Lady Crow**

* * *

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_"….you gotta be fuckin kidding me….what hap…how the fuck did that—no, wait, hold on….well where the Hell is _Elliot_?...Fine….alright…yeah...alright, alright..._I'm on my way right now, goddamn it!_ Quit yelling in my ear like _you're_ the boss of_ _Oswald Construction_,_ asshole!"_

Piney snapped the phone in his hand shut, turning towards the amused expressions on the three young faces smiling up at him from Tara's bed.

"I gotta go, sweetheart," he told Tara, walking over to kiss her on her forehead. "I'll stop by later…see if you can still beat me in Scrabble if I have time, Okay?"

Tara nodded. "Thanks, Piney," she said, still smiling as the door shut behind him when he rushed from the room.

Her eyes widened slightly when Donna and Wendy rose up from the foot of her bed. "You guys ditching me, too?"

_Cable is really not as exciting as you think it is, Wendy._

"I didn't realize the time until just now," Donna explained, her tone apologetic. "I really wish everyone around here would stop getting hurt. Every day my parents give me a pass is another day I have to make up before I'm off the hook for punching that stupid bitch in her big ass mouth."

"You're _still _grounded?"

Donna nodded. "The only reason they let me out was to give you your homework…Mark my words my stepfather's gonna have my mom tacking on an extra day for staying longer than I was supposed to."

Tara nodded her understanding before turning to cock an eyebrow at the blonde standing next to her. "What's your excuse?"

"My mom's in a _baking _mood today," Wendy said, shrugging. "Need to go make sure she doesn't burn the"—the young blonde stopped midsentence, every head in the room including hers turning towards the door, staring at the two familiar faces walking in, an assortment of flowers, balloons and baskets in both of their hands.

"Looks like you got backup," Donna commented, smiling wryly. "_Pierce Reynold_s chasing after me in the hallway to ask about you…._Liam_ slash Leon slash Ugly-green-bicycle guy mowing me down in the lot to give me your homework…and now this…._hmm…._guess you're more popular than you thought, huh _Nerdvana?"_

Wendy chuckled, nodding her head up at him. "What's up, _Q-B_?"

"Hey, Wendy," David replied, waving a hand towards the woman next to him as he looked over at Donna. "This is my mom _Gloria Hale_, okay? No need to shriek _Who the Hell are you? _at her."

Tara giggled when Donna rolled her eyes. "I'm popular…and _you_ have a reputation."

"Whatever," Donna grumbled. Leaning over she gave her a half-hug, squeezing the shoulder that wasn't injured before walking off. "I'll see you later, Tara."

"Ditto," Wendy said, offering Tara a soldier's salute, plucking the _Captain's _patch on the arm of David's jacket as she passed him.

"Tara, honey…I am _sooo _sorry," Gloria gushed, rushing towards her the second the three of them were left alone. "…I don't know what I did to raise such an irresponsible daughter. I'm soooo glad you're okay. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if—"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Hale," Tara blurted. "Is _Sarah_ okay? Nobody would tell me anything and Opie said—"

Gloria waved her hand. "Nothing but a bump on her head. _Of all things!_ As hard as that head of hers is it's not surprising at all that the accident didn't do much damage. Wish you were as lucky. I just spoke with your aunt out there. Sounds like you need surgery…poor thing. Well I'll tell you one thing you don't have to worry about! _Insurance. _Jacob and I are covering any out of pocket cost—"

"No, Mrs. Hale," Tara tried to argue, shaking her head. "that's not—we'll figure it—"

"_Nonesense!" _Gloria shrieked, the bracelets on her wrist jingling as she waved her hand again. "You can't look at this as charity, sweetheart because it's _not. _Taking care of all your medical expenses is the least we could do given what Sarah's done to you. And don't think I forget how headstrong you are. I already spoke with the administrator here. It's _done! _You're doctor'll be in here for any pre-op questions you have and don't you be nervous about the procedure either. Dr. Marcel is a dear old friend of mine. He was in his second year as a surgical resident when I worked here…back when St. Thomas was called—"

Tara looked up as her room door opened yet again.

"—Mrs. Hale?" Nurse Patricia called out, standing at the threshold. "Mrs. Murphy has all the paperwork ready. We're gonna need your signature on a couple things."

"Right on schedule," Gloria said, standing up. She leaned over, leaving a ruby-red imprint of her lips on Tara's forehead when she kissed her. "You have to stop by and see me sometime, sweetheart. I've really missed you."

"I missed you, too," Tara replied, smiling up at her.

"I'll be right back," the woman told her, quickly rushing towards the door where the nurse stood, waiting patiently to direct her to Margaret Murphy's office.

If he hadn't been standing at the foot of her bed, Tara wouldn't have even known David was still there.

A few minutes passed before Tara finally gave up on waiting for him to speak first.

"You a mute now?" Tara teased, looking over at him.

"I knew my mom wasn't gonna let me get a word in," David said, moving to sit down in the chair next to her bed. "So I figured I'd let her have the first two hours and then say what I had to say after….and I guess I didn't realize until she left that I'm not sure what to say to you."

"You could call me a biker whore again," Tara suggested. "That was fun."

Guilt shone in David's eyes. "Tara, listen. I'm s—"

"It's fine," Tara told him. "How you acted the other night and you being here now...they kind of cancel each other don't you think?"

"If you say so," he answered. "So….I know you need surgery for your arm…is…I mean, other than that are you okay?"

Tara nodded. "I got some physical therapy ahead of me but I'll live. It could have been worse you know?"

"Yeah," David answered. He paused for a moment. Tara watched as he struggled with whether or not he wanted to say something before he finally mumbled, "Sarah said she was on her way to Jax's house when the accident happened…"

"Yeah."

_Yes, I was with him._

"Oh." David began pulling the buttons of his letterman Jacket in and out of the loops absently.

"David, I never meant—"

"—I know." The look in his eyes when he finally met her green ones was the only thing that stopped her from continuing. "I get it. I still don't _like _it but I get it. That's not what I wanted to talk to you about. In fact….I don't really want to talk so much as….well I wanted to ask you something..."

Tara could tell that whatever it was, David liked _asking_ about it about as much as she was going to enjoy giving him an honest answer.

"Okay." Tara nodded once, sitting up a little straighter before adding, "Go for it."

"It's about my dad," David said. "Sarah said…and well…it's just I read some—I found out some things about him…things involving you...and I was just wondering what exactly…I guess….T-tara...Did my..._Did my father really threaten you and your dad?"_

Tara released the breath she didn't know she was holding, looking towards the wall briefly as she considered how she wanted to answer.

If she wanted to answer.

In the end there was no simpler way of putting it.

And she was tired of covering up for a man who didn't deserve the pedestal his son put him on.

So she turned towards him—Tara turned towards David, the seventeen year old boy who had all his life, genuinely believed that his father, _the honorary judge _could do no wrong.

And she told him the truth.

"_Yes_," Tara admitted. "He did."

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

Monica Lewis looked up from the computer screen in front of her as the distinct ding of the elevator broke her concentration. The metal doors slid open and she watched as a tall, gorgeous man, wearing a tailored suit that screamed _"Kaching!" _walked towards the Nurses station where she sat—playing solitaire instead of filing the paperwork she'd been tasked with.

The young man swaggered towards her in long strides, a perfect, pearly white smile spreading across his face, brightening the blues of his eyes when he finally came to a stop in front of her.

_Hel-loooo, Sailor._

"Hi," the smiling man said. "I'm looking for somebody that works here…."

_I work here._

_Here I am, baby._

Monica cleared her throat—sincerely hoping her brain would follow suit. "umm…I'm sorry….nothing's coming up. What did you say her last name was?"

"Kane."

Monica tried typing it into the database again. Looking up at him, she shook her head, her expression apologetic. "Sorry, sir," she told him. "There's no one on staff with that name."

His smile faltered, morphing into a frown as he pursed his lips—deep thinking dimpling the light stubble along his jaw. She could tell the exact moment a light bulb went off in his head. It occurred seconds before _Mr. Armani Exchange_ rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

"That girl is _unbelievable_," she heard him mumble before his eyes flitted back down to meet hers. "What about _Knowles?_"

Monica's fingers quickly scattered across the keyboard in front of her. "Let me see…._Nope..._Sorry, sir. There is no…_wait…." _Monica looked up at him. "There is a Diane _R_. Knowles listed here. You're right. She is a recent hire. Her first shift was yesterday actually."

Suit man nodded. "Can you tell me where I can find her?"

Monica considered the question.

This guy seemed totally harmless. More than that, he was _hot_. She wouldn't mind him showing up, looking for her.

But _Ted Bundy_ was handsome, too….

"_Who are you?_" she asked him.

"Right….sorry," the man said, nodding. He pulled a wallet from his pants pocket. Sliding out one of the cards inside of it, he reached his arm over the counter, handing the I.D over to her.

_Too bad it doesn't say if you're married or not._

Monica picked up the phone, dialing in the extension for the Surgical hospital wing. "Is _Diane_ expecting you?"

The man chuckled. "Oh..._I don't doubt it_."

"So…she's like your sister or something?" Monica asked, fishing while the phone rang in her ear.

"She's my wife."

_Damn it. _

"Hi, Patty," Monica spoke into the phone. "Did...uh... _Diane...R. Knowles_ already clock out for the evening? Oh…I see. Well there's a guy here looking for her. Says he's her husband. That's what he s_aid…._hold on…" Monica looked down at the I.D on the desk in front of her. "...His name's Duncan..._Duncan Kane._"

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"_Excuse me._" At the sound of her voice, Jax jerked his head towards the Nurse's station at the center of the empty hallway. Blue eyes locked with a emerald green pair and Jax found himself blinking hard—twice—making sure he wasn't seeing things.

Turns out he was.

While it was true that the green-eyed Burnette resembled her at first glance, the young nurse standing up behind the desk was most certainly _not _Tara.

"Can I help you with something, sweetheart?"

Jax couldn't help but smirk. The girl didn't look any more than a few years older than he was. It made the whole _'sweetheart'_ bit—the same term of endearment his _mother _liked to use—very amusing.

"Evening visiting hours are still going on, right?" Jax asked, all but crossing his fingers that St. Thomas' newest employee Diane Knowles hadn't gotten the times wrong as he read the name on her key-card.

_Nathalie Copeland._

"Yes," Nathalie answered. "Who are you visiting?"

"Tara Knowles."

Nathalie opened the binder of charts on the desk next to her, flipping past the first page.

Then the second one.

Then the third.

Then back to the second.

"Have you visited her before?"

Jax nodded. "I was here last night."

"Do you remember her room number?"

"Two-one-fourteen." Jax's eyebrows threaded together, his mouth suddenly going dry as he took in the rapid changes in her expression.

Nathalie Copeland went from confused to worried—and when she glanced up at him, the look in her eyes was the very definition of sympathy.

"Can I go see her now?" Jax asked, shifting his feet.

"What is your relat—were you…are you family?"

_Why the fuck are you looking at me like that?_

"What?" Jax stood up straight, forearm sliding off the counter. "Why?"

"I'm not allowed—"

"Allowed to what? I was here yesterday—"

"What's your name, sweet—"

"_What the Hell's going on?"_

Nathalie opened her mouth, clamping it shut in the same second as she shook her head, her expression grave.

"My names Jackson Teller," Jax told her. "And I was here visiting last night. Her _aunt _knows so I don't—"

"I'm so sorry, Jackson," Nathalie said quietly.

_What?_

"Sorry for what?" Jax shook his head. "What are you—"

It was the glassiness in her eyes that did it.

Everything his brain was disregarding—stubbornly refusing to acknowledge clicked into place.

"_Where is she?_"

"I am _so—_Jackson?"

Jax was already turning the corner, running down to the other end of the hall.

"TARA?!"

He shoved the door to room 2-114 wide open, blue eyes zeroing on the bed at the center of the room.

The empty bed—with fresh sheets, an extra blanket and pillows stacked neatly in the middle.

_No._

Tara broke her arm.

She fracture her wrist, snapped a couple fingers.

She hurt her shoulder and her…..

Her head.

"... … _and if their saying it wasn't as severe as they thought that's actually _really_ good, Jax. Brain injuries are the most fatal part of vehicular accidents._"

_NO._

Jax ran across the room, stumbling as he banged his knee against the railing sticking out at the end of the bed—ignoring the pain shooting up his leg as he pushed the bathroom door open.

_Why does this shit keep happening to me?_

It was empty.

Just like the rest of the room.

Just like the space in his chest where his heart used to be.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"So…how you liking your new digs, kid?" Piney asked randomly as he pulled several squares from the burgundy, velour bag in his hand.

Tara shrugged, taking a quick glance around her new room. "The TV's bigger."

_Not that I've had time to watch it._

"You're supposed to shake them up, Pop," Opie complained, as he rearranged the letters on his Scrabble rack, trying to come up with a word for any of the letter endings on the board.

"You say that like it'll make a difference," Piney taunted. "You're not gonna win either way. The only one that's got a chance against me is _Encyclopedia Knowles_ here."

"Encyclopedia Knowles is kicking both of your asses," Tara teased. "And I'm the one with the concussion and drugs making my brain all loopy."

"Nobody likes a know-it-all, Kid," Piney scolded, mischief twinkling in his eyes as he spread the word _Genius _across the slots on the board.

Tara giggled. "_Look Opie!_ Piney spelled my name."

They were all too busy laughing to hear when the door opened or notice when she came to a stop behind the chair where Piney sat.

"_Sounds like you guys are having fun._" The three of them looked up, their smiles matching the intensity of Diane's as she looked over at Tara. "How are you feeling, Gracie?"

"Oxycodone makes evvvvverything better," Tara joked, snickering when her aunt attempting to give her a look of disapproval.

"Yeah, I bet." Diane looked over towards the empty couch on the other end of the private hospital suite. Those same eyes traveled towards the open bathroom door before wondering aloud, "_Hey_, aren't you guys missing one of three musketeers. Where's Jackson?"

Diane looked over just in time to see Tara's face fall.

"At home or with his father I guess," Tara suggested. "I doubt he'll be visiting me any time soon after the way I chewed him out last night."

"He deserved it," Opie mumbled, laying out letters across the scrabble board using the 'S' at the end of _genius._

Piney looked up at his son, smirking. "_Surly?"_

"I ran into him down in the lobby about twenty minutes ago," Diane explained, her eyebrows threading together. "He said he was on his way to see you, not his Old man."

Tara shrugged. "I haven't seen him."

"He probably did what we did," Piney said, studying the letters on his rack. "By the way…someone needs to fire that Nurse working the desk on this floor. If we hadn't run into you in the hallway we'd _still _be walking around in circles looking for this _penthouse_ you got her posted up in. How'd you go from no insurance, to _this?_"

Opie looked over at Diane. "Did you tell him you switched her room?"

Diane shook her head. "I'll go see if I can find"—Diane pulled the beeper going off from her hip, reading the screen before hissing, "_Son of a bitch!"_

"What's wrong?" Tara said as the three of them look towards her.

"_Nothing_," Diane answered, her facial expression contradicting the word. "Some people just don't seem to understand what the word _goodbye _means. I'll try to be back before visiting hours are over."

"What about Jax?" Tara asked, refusing to be embarrassed by how desperate her voice sounded. "Are you still—"

"I'll go get him," Opie volunteered, standing up. "He probably got sidetracked…._flirting with the nurse behind the desk."_

Mr. Surly was dead wrong if he thought no one heard what he'd mumbled under his breath.

Piney shook his head, chuckling to himself while the brunette in the bed next to him, chewed at her bottom lip—worry creasing her features.

_I hope he didn't just change his mind about coming._

She really did.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"Hi," Opie said, tapping his hand against the desk as he waited for the young nurse to finally look up from whatever she was typing on the computer screen. "I'm looking for someone—"

"_Oh God, _please don't say Tara Knowles," she blurted.

"No…_Courtney_," Opie replied, squinted his eyes at the key-card on her chest. "I already found out what floor she was switched to. I was actually wondering if you—"

"—I'm sorry, w_hat?"_

Opie's eyebrows were just as furrowed as hers. "The Nurse that was here before you came told me her aunt had her switched out of Pediatrics so she'd be closer to the station where she worked."

_"Holy Shit." _Nathalie slapped a hand across her forehead. "I'm gonna get fired on my third day. _Damn it. _Not even a fuckin _week!_"

"What's wrong?"

"This person you're looking for," Nathalie said. "Is it your brother?"

Opie smirked. "Yeah, you could say that."

"Tall, blonde…blue eyes?"

"Y-uup." Opie nodded. "Did you tell him her new room number?"

Nathalie rolled her eyes. "I am so screwed!"

"What happ—"

"Listen, tell your brother I'm _really _sorry," Nathalie gushed. "That _bitch _Monica was probably too busy playing games on the computer…she updated the chart wrong."

"And?" Opie shook his head, thumping his fingers against the counter impatiently.

_Hmmm…._

_I have an 'I' and an 'M'….Tara already spelled _patient_ on the board._

_That's a double word score..._

_I'll show, Pop with his cheating ass..._

"…..and there was this other fifteen year old girl. I guess they put her in the room she was switched out of. And she got in a car accident, too. And she started coding while they were waiting for an MRI to see if she had any….and so I told him…well I couldn't _tell _him. Legally I'm not allowed…but he could kind of tell. So basically he thinks she's_ dead_."

Opie's attention snapped back to the monologue he'd been tuning out off, lightening fast. "_What?"_

"I told him she died," Nathalie admitted, cringing at her own words.

Opie stood up straight. "When was that?"

"I don't know." Nathalie shrugged, biting her bottom lip. "…maybe twenty minutes ago."

"Did you see which way he went?" Opie followed the direction she pointed, zeroing in on the corridor on the other side of the hallway. "Thanks," he said, rushing off.

_Good thing Diane works here now._

_All you other nurses are fuckin idiots._

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"I'm keeping count you know," Nurse Patricia said, smiling. "That's two favors you owe me and it's only your first day."

"Thank you," Diane replied, holding her palms together as if she were praying. "I owe you big time. My niece just got out of surgery. And my brother is—"

Patricia held her hand up. "Hey, don't go telling me all your business. Unless you're running from the mafia and my life's in danger for associating with ya I don't need to know every thang, alright?" Diane nodded, a wide smile on her face as the elder nurse added, "You're lucky. I was _just _headed out for the night. I told him your shift ended two hours ago. Go ahead and be with your niece. Deal with your marriage drama another day."

Diane walked off, heading towards the elevator before remembering she had Tara moved out of the pediatric wing so she'd be closer to her work station if she needed her. Coming up on the corner leading to the other side of the floor, she was looking down, fumbling with the strands of her hair that were caught in the clip to her keycard when she smacked chest-to-chest into someone.

Wide-eyed, Diane looked up immediately. "I'm s—"

"…._sorry?_"

Diane rolled her eyes. "Not as sorry as I was before."

Gemma smirked, crossing her arms over her chest as she stepped back on her heel. "Couldn't stay away, could you?"

"Oh I _can,"_ Diane said, stepping around her. "You should do the same."

Diane jerked her arm out of Gemma's grip spinning back around.

Gemma's eyebrows rose, a sardonic grin spreading across her face. "_Wow,_" she said. "I just had a déjà vu moment. That look in your eyes? The same look in little Tara's when I had to put her in her place the other day."

Diane nodded, her nostrils flaring. "Yeah. I heard about the fundraiser. Too bad I wasn't there to put you in _yours. _I guess this town still has you thinking you can do whatever the Hell you want. And maybe that's true…" Diane stepped a little closer to Gemma, her normally bright eyes darkening. "It's the '_to whomever' _part that's not gonna fly with _me _around_."_

"You haven't changed a bit," Gemma commented, smirking. "…still a puppy that thinks her bite is as big as her bark."

"Stay the Hell away from Tara," Diane warned her. "If you _ever…_put your hands on her again…."

"Dot, dot, dot?" Gemma laughed. "Relax, sweetheart. I want the same thing you do. Thing is…it's kind of hard to stay away from her when she's spending nights at _my _house. Tara didn't tell you where she was coming from when she got hit?"

"Neither one of us has to worry about that happening again."

"Really?" Gemma smirked. "I guess taking care of her drunk daddy for seven years is a Knowles family rite of passage. What are you here now to play _mommy_? That girls head is just as thick as yours. It's gonna be fun watching you try to convince her of what your deadbeat brother couldn't even get through to you about."

"That's right, _Gem," _Diane sneered. "There was no getting through to me. I had to learn on my own...and once I _did_? I put it behind me. _Just like Tara will. _She's a teenage girl. And we all grow up eventually…_most _of us do anyway. I see you're still channeling your inner-teen. Cat-fighting with fifteen year olds and spreading gossip."

"You put it behind you, huh?" Gemma echoed, leaning in closer towards her. Before Diane could anticipate her intentions, Gemma grabbed her by the V-neck collar of her scrub top yanking it down. "Well, would you look at _that."_

Diane quickly shoved her arm away, adjusting her shirt, covering the crow tattooed across her right breast—and the initials etched in tiny letters between the wings.

"Looks like it's the _front _of you, you've been running from," Gemma joked. "I thought the saying was like mother like _daughter_…not niece. Tara keeps hanging on to my son you won't have to worry about her contemplating moving to Ireland. You're gonna have an entirely different set of problems."

"Excuse me?"

"Keep that little gash away from Jackson," Gemma warned. "Trust me, sweetheart...it's for her own safety."

Diane's eyes ballooned. "Did you just—_are you out of your fuckin mind? _You must think I'm still the sixteen year old girl you tried to run off years ago. I left because _I _wanted to. I'm not afraid of you or your bullshit threats...when are you gonna learn, Gemma? You're not a part of _SAMCRO._ You don't have a _patch._You're just a mascot for all the broken women who think sucking dick and hosting a pancake breakfast are the only skills they need to prosper in life. Your _husband _and his _brothers _call the shots. You really think they have time for any of your petty bullshit? You think they give a flying _fuck _that you don't approve of your sons girlfriend? Even if they _did _it wouldn't matter now. You're not the only one with _friends, _Gemma. And my friends are a lot higher up than yours. So tread carefully...s_weetheart. _I see a hair missing from Tara's head it won't be a _Reaper_ banging on your front door. But you might end up begging to meet one after what happens to you _and _your club._"_

"You threatening me, bitch?" Gemma challenged. "Did you just threaten the club?"

"Neither one," Diane answered, shaking her head. "I'm just giving you a warning…._with teeth."_

"I'm supposed to be afraid of you?" Gemma smirked, amusement quickly replacing the anger in her expression.

"_Smart_," Diane corrected. "You're supposed to be smart._ Brain over bullets, _right Gemma?" Gemma's face darkened as Diane's smiled widened. "Make the smart choice Gemma. Believe me…You have no idea what kind of _bullets _I got in my arsenal."

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

Jax was sitting on the floor, underneath the TV. His arms rested on his knees, his back against the wall as he stared at the empty hospital bed.

He didn't even look up when Opie pushed the door to room 2-114 open.

He didn't move an inch.

Opie rushed over towards him.

And all the anger he'd been harboring the day before, all the mutual rage that was responsible for gash above Jax's eyebrow and the split in Opie's bottom lip—any trace of it was gone the second he saw the look on his best friend's face.

_"Jax_." Opie held a hand out to him. "Get up, bro. That Nurse is a fuckin moron. They put Tara on another floor…_Jax." _He waved a hand in front of him. Giving up when that got no result, he kneeled down in front of him. "_Jax." _His blue eyes were unmoving as they stared straight through Opie's chest. "Jax." Opie reached, placing a hand on his shoulders, shaking him. "Jax! Did you hear me? _Tara's okay._"

Blue eyes snapped up to meet his. There was a single word that came to mind when they locked with Opie's.

It was the same word a certain green eyed brunette had spelled out to get a double-lettered score.

_Hopeful._

Opie nodded at him. "Tara's okay, bro," he assured him, cracking a smile as he added, "_Crash-test Dummy _is upstairs playing scrabble with Pop right now."

"She's…She's…but that Nurse—"

"Is having a really shitty first week," Opie finished. Rising to his feet, he held the same hand out again. This time Jax took it, standing up with the support of the only person he could punch in the face and still depend on whenever he needed him. "She got out of surgery hours ago. She's gonna need therapy but she should have full use of her arm now that they've gone and made her half-robot with all the screws and shit."

Jax tried for a smile, managing a small one. "Crash-test Dummy is okay…"

"Yeah, bro," Opie answered, smiling as he pulled him into a quick hug before walking backwards towards the exit. "And I'm telling her it was _you _that came up with that name…matter fact, I won't even bother. She knows how shitty your sense of humor is. _Come on. _She's waiting for you."

"Hey, Ope." Opie stopped in his tracks as he headed towards the door, turning back to look at him. "I'm sorry about Sarah. I…I can't pretend I care about her the way you do but I didn't want her to _die. _I just was pissed because—"

"Tara." Jax nodded. "I know. It's all good, bro. I'm sorry for flipping out on you. The shit Sarah does….well she makes her own choices good or bad. I can't put that shit on you… ...I meant what I said about Tara though...and...and I know I probably didn't make it clear but… I'll always have your back _regardless. _You're my _brother_. I just can't promise not to break your nose if you hurt her...I got no idea how it happened or when but that hotheaded, _rude_ pain in the ass is like my little sister. She's family, too, man. _I gotta have her back._"

Jax nodded. "I know."

"So you coming or what?" When Jax shook his head, Opie rolled his eyes. "Oh come on, man. Whatever she said, she obviously didn't mean it. She even asked Di—"

"_I need a minute," _Jax told him, knowing he was going to need a little more than that. "I need to work out what _my _truth is."

Opie nodded. "Don't wait too long, bro," he advised him, opening the door. "Tara might know how to _spell _the word patient but she's a _chick. _Girls don't know what _patient_ is unless they're making us wait to have sex with them."

Jax was chuckling along with him as his best friend left the room.

_Not all girls._

_Just the ones that are worth it._

_Tara, anyway._

It wasn't like he'd ever met _another _girl that made him wait.

Or feel like she was worth every second.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"Hey, Tig!"

Alexander "Tig" Trager stopped short, switching directions at the sound of his name being called.

"Hey, brother," Tig said, coming to a stop in front of Clay. "I'm sorry the vote didn't go your way."

Clay waved a hand in front of him, his other one holding the cigarette between his lips. "Don't matter," he said, blowing a smoke ring in front of him. "Piney's just showing how big his dick is. Still pissed cuz I sent him on that run to _SAMTAZ _when JT laid down his bike. Asshole must think he's the man of fuckin steel. Like him riding with JT coulda stopped him from getting crushed by that Semi."

"Well if the rumors are true he definitely couldn't have done much," Tig commented, mumbling to himself.

Clay looked up at him. "What rumors you hearing?"

Tig shook his head, realizing his mistake. "Nothing man."

"Don't sound like nothing to me," Clay challenged, taking a final pull of the cigarette in his hand before stubbing it out underneath the soles of his boots. "You might as well tell me. I'm gonna find out eventually."

"It's about JT."

"Of course it is," Clay said. "Why else would you be about to shit your pants over telling me?"

"Word going around is that what happened wasn't an accident…"

Clay sat up straight on the bench of the picnic table. "The fuck is that supposed to mean? _Suicide?_" Clay's face contorted into pure rage. "That's a nasty rumor to be spreading around," he growled. "You know what happens if a brother—_my _brother—"

Tig held his hands up in mock surrender. "_I'm not saying I believe it, man!_ I'm just telling you what people been saying….and a lot them…they been thinking about all the shit he's been through. Thomas dying...him and Gemma ain't been right since…and _Jax…_he can't even get shit right with the son that's still alive. I know _JT _wouldn't do that. He's a tough son of a bitch. He's not some _pussy_….but the guys…who ever told them…they're starting to get used to the idea is all. Even heard something about Unser having proof...Maybe you should look into it. See if _Elmer Fud _is the one spreading lies about our _Prez._"

_Kyle, Kyle, Kyle._

_I might actually have to keep my word about getting you patched in._

"Good idea, _Tiggy,_" Clay said leaning his back against the table again. "I think I'll give the good Chief a call. But in the mean time..._I need a favor."_

Tig sat down next to him on the bench. "Whatever you need, brother."

"It's about Lowell..."

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

Piney and Opie had left hours ago.

Tara couldn't sleep.

Every time she heard footsteps outside her door she looked up only to be disappointed—over and over again.

She'd finally given up on hoping he'd show up.

When the door to her room opened and closed she didn't even bother turning her head.

"_This hospital really needs better security._" Green eyes widening, Tara jerked her head up so fast a sharp pain shot through her neck. "They might want to consider hiring new nurses while they're at it."

"Visiting hours were over hours ago," Tara said. "I thought you were—"

"_I know what you thought,_" Jax interrupted, his voice hard. "I know exactly what you _think _about me. You never hesitate to tell me every time something bad happens. Every time I try to be there for _you _the way you're always there for me."

"Jackson, I'm sorry—"

"_Don't._" Jax shook his head as he walked towards her. "Don't even, Tara. I am so _sick _of apologies."

_Giving and Recieving._

"What do you want me to say?" Tara asked. "I took my own guilt out on you. Even if you're not innocent, I know you didn't deserve that. What else can I do _but _apologize? I don't want to keep doing this, Jax. I don't want to keep pushing you away until you get tired of coming back... but I can't settle for being the _friend _you invite over your house just to piss your mother off either. I have to know what this is…or what is _isn't. _What do you want from me, Jackson?"

His smile was wide as he walked over, sitting in the chair next to her bedside. Yet the anguished display of teeth didn't reach the blues of his eyes. "I used to think the family curse skipped me...lately I'm starting to question just how healthy my heart really is, Tara….I mean…it _beats _fine, I guess...but—"

"I'm _glad_ it does," Tara told him, smiling. "I couldn't take it if what happened to Tommy happened to you, too. I'm glad the family curse skipped you."

Even Jax didn't anticipate his reaction.

_"Then how about you show some fuckin appreciation!" _he snapped at her, his nostrils flaring. "Stop doing shit to make my heart stop!"

Tara cleared her throat, blinking her eyes against the heat glaring a hole through her retinas. "You feel better now?"

Jax jumped up from the chair, raking his hands through his hair as he began pacing back in forth at the foot of her bed. "Jesus Christ, Tara. You scared the shit out of me."

"Opie told me what happened with the nurse," Tara admitted. "I'm s—"

_"I'm not even talking about that!" _he growled, turning his glare on her again. "I'm talking about kneeling in the middle of the fuckin street, holding onto you with no idea if you were gonna be okay or not. _That's _the shit I'm talking about!"

"If I promise to ask Santa for the gift telekinesis this year so I can stop cars from running me off the road will you stop yelling at me?"

_"You're not even sixteen yet!" _Jax barked, answering her rhetorical question. "You don't even have a fuckin drivers permit. You shouldn't be driving in the first place. Your Old man is a real—"

"_Really Jax?" _Tara lost the battle to suppress her smile. "You're going there?"

Jax's expression somehow managed to get even angrier, making him resemble _Koolaid-Man _without the smile drawn on the pitcher. And Tara found herself giggling despite his mood—despite the mood she was in seconds prior.

"I know this is gonna sound twisted," Tara confessed, grinning at his angry face, "but you losing your shit over me is making me feel very happy."

"_YOU THINK EVERYTHING IS A FUCKIN JOKE!_" Jax screamed, wiping the smile right off her face. "_It's not a joke, Tara. Nothing about this is funny. You got one thing right though. It's _twisted_. This shit is so fuckin twisted_."

And just like that he was pacing again, this time with his hands on top of his head as he walked back and forth, stammering word after word with a breath in between.

_"It's like I can't catch a fuckin break. Every time I turn around…I blink my eyes twice and someone I love is dropping dead like Thomas or lying in a fuckin hospital bed like JT or _you! Tara Knowles. _The _biggest _pain in my ass. You're even worse than all the other chicks in my life. You don't even have to _try _to manipulate me. You're like a fuckin puppet master, pulling every string I got."_

Jax's eyes widened as he pointed a finger at his own chest. "_Prince Charming? _BULLSHIT. _There _IS _no charming you. You are the most _UN-charming _girl on the fuckin planet. And you're in my head. You're in my head and you won't get the Hell out of it. I'm turning into Opie's pussy-whipped ass _WITHOUT THE PUSSY!"

"Jax—"

The rest of the words to Tara's sentence caught in her throat, forming a lump as she flinched away from the blue-eyed teenage boy charging towards her like a fuckin bull.

He stopped short—just shy of banging his crotch against the railing of the bed as he leaned down towards her.

"_I know this is gonna sound _twisted," Jax growled into her ear, throwing her words back at her the way he'd come to love doing. "_but I'm pretty sure I knew the answer to the question in your eyes a long time ago. But I'm not like _Big brother Opie…_I didn't want to wear this shit on my sleeve. I didn't want this shit at all."_

Jax pulled back, basking in the effect her emerald eyes always seemed to have on him whenever she truly looked at him instead of through him.

_"...You're just another person that's gonna kill me if I lose you." _Jax reached for her hand—the one without the cast, without the reminder of what happened…and what _could _have happened instead. "_The answer is _yes, _Tara. I love you. And I'm sorry thinking you were dead…or _dying _is the only thing that could get me to admit it but it's true, babe. _I love you, Tara. _I love you and I will say it whenever you want...as many times as you need to believe it. _Just don't fuckin die on me, okay? _I meant what I said, Tara. Three years and it hasn't change. It's never going to. I _can't_ lose you."_

Slowly, as if any sudden movement would trigger an explosion…Tara reached up, brushing her fingers against the single tear rolling down his cheek—a tear he hadn't even known was there until just then.

"_I'm right here, Jax_," Tara told him, moving that same hand down to press against the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

Jax immediately brought it up to his lips, kissing the palm of her hand. Unsatisfied with the gesture, he leaned down towards her, lightly pressing his lips to hers—kissing her slowly…softly like he was afraid he'd do more damage to swelling that remained in her top lip.

He may have forgotten about the concussion or the bump on her forehead that went with it as he closed the tiny gap between their faces, shutting his eyes as he rested his forehead against hers, their noses touching.

"_Jackson?"_

Jax didn't open his eyes. He was enjoying the mental image too much.

Tara _before _the accident. Falling asleep with her in his bed—her staying the night instead of making a run for it when his mother showed up…crashing into Sarah when she left.

"Yeah, babe?"

"I….I…_I love you, too."_

Jax was certain that the green-eyed girl holding his hand had no idea what it felt like to hear those words come from her mouth.

It felt like his heart really _did_ stop.

And would never beat again.

...He'd died and gone to Heaven.

* * *

**Give me all your thoughts folks. Every single one that popped into your head! LOL.**

**FYI: **For those of you that recognized a certain character from another certain favorite show of mine, he may have a few friends you recognize from HIS small town in California showing up later on, although I can't promise not to go totally (AU) given what I want to happen. **Hint**: Jax and Opie may need a little..ehemm... _**Backup**_.

**BTW: **Have any of you ever experienced a nurse or doctor giving you the wrong info? **I **have. She was lucky my urge to punch her in throat was overridden by my need to find the **right **room my loved one was in. Talking about "there's no one here by that name" #**RandomBitchFit #OnlyHumanY'all**

7, 500 WORDS

**|REVIEW| *Chucky voice* **_I'll only come back if you do _**#RhymeMaster #MightNeedNewFingersTooPrettySoon #NotAcceptingThat #MyYoungerSiblingsHaveMeSpeakingHashTag #BlameThem**


	57. Chapter 51

**FUN FACT: **In the original arc of this part of the story (before I decided to go completely AU) **Jax **and his mother were on their way from the hospital, arguing about the fact that Tara was there visiting with him. In the midst of that argument Gemma gets a call with bad news about JT and ends up crashing into Sarah (Sarah was going bye-bye regardless lol). **Jax **was the one who got hurt, woke up from his coma to find out his dad was gone. **Tara **admitted how she felt &amp; she somehow became the only good thing in his life with everything falling apart. (This is of course is me merely **summarizing **it. I'm sure you get the _gist_) But after the SOA series finale I could **NOT **write about (ANY-**including**-JT's) death. I just couldn't. So I decided to switch it up..._for the time being anyway_.

**Now.**..On to the next chapter.

**A/N: **I know, _I know_. I said I would be doing my **omni **thing from now on. But I still need to figure out the order of events for all the plot I got going. And I decided to write a little sort of _opening_ to what I've officially donned "the **honeymoon phase**" for J&amp;T. |**CH52| **will throw you right back into all the drama...**in **the hospital...and **outside **of it ;-) But for now, feast your eyes on this **(CH51)**.

**-Veritable **Old Lady **Crow**

* * *

Her lips were soft and warm.

The tongue dancing with his own was Hershey flavored—chocolate coated from the brownies he'd snuck in for her from the gift shop. Brownies that had somehow ended up on the floor of her private hospital room when what was supposed to be a tease turned into him actually taking her up on her offer to _try it_—whether he'd chosen to misinterpret her words or not.

He tried it, alright.

And Jax couldn't get enough.

But before he could truly get lost in how good her mouth tasted, Jax pulled back, biting back a groan when Tara caught his bottom lip between her teeth.

Jax shook his head, smiling. "How long much longer are you gonna be in here?"

"I don't know," Tara answered. "...a few days I guess."

"And what about your arm?" he questioned, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Your shoulder?"

"I'll live," Tara said, shrugging his questioning off as she reached to curve her hand around the back of his neck. "_Kiss me."_

Leaning in towards her, on the edge of his seat, Jax slowly slid his hand underneath the powder-blue hospital gown she had on—smiling as he briefly flashed back to her writhing all over his bed when he was tickling her.

Even now he could see Tara fighting the urge to laugh, biting down on her bottom lip as he lightly wriggled his fingers against her bare stomach.

"Just because they put all the bones back in place doesn't they aren't still sore," Tara warned him. "No tickling, Teller. I fractured my _left _wrist. My right hook is just fine and I won't hesitate to use it."

Jax stopped moving his fingers against her stomach—wriggling his eyebrows instead as he slid his hand further up, massaging her breasts through her bra. Finally obliging her request, he pressed his lips to hers just in time to catch her moan in his mouth when he first slipped his fingers underneath the cups of her bra, flicking his thumb against her nipple.

When that same hand dropped to tug at the strings holding the sides of her gown together, it was Tara who pulled away—conflicting emotions in her eyes as she pinned him with her emerald gaze.

"What are you doing, Jax?"

Jax had a question of his own.

"What do you _want _me to do?" he asked, flicking his tongue against the hint of chocolate smudging the corner of her mouth, stealing another kiss before she could blink twice.

Tara's cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink as she looked towards the door to her room. "It's bad enough you're not even supposed to be here," she whispered, despite no one being within earshot of their conversation. "Catching you in my room after visiting hours is one thing. Catching you in here with your….I mean—"

"_Nah._ Let's stick with that. I like the '_with your' _part_," _Jax teased. "With my _what, _Tara? My _hands? _Or my _lips?"_

"_Both,_" Tara admitted, smirking when his eyes widened at her brazen response.

_Shit._

"What if I told you I paid the nurse on call for the night not to come by your room for the next couple hours?" Jax bluffed, losing the battle to keep his face straight as he did it.

Tara laughed, shaking her head at him. "I'd say you're full of shit."

"Maybe so," Jax answered, chuckling with her as he leaned in to whisper against her ear. "...Thing is, Tara…..I can't stop thinking about how you taste….I wanna use my _tongue_, too babe….my _hands…_" Jax slipped his hands underneath her blanket. "….my _lips…." _ Nudging her chin up, he sucked on the pulse at her neck. "…._and_ my tongue,_" _he told her, pulling the strings of her gown apart before she could protest—circling her nipple through the thin material of her bra, soaking the fabric when he latched on, sucking the hardening peak through the cotton.

_"Jackson," _Tara breathed, leaning forward—arching into his eager mouth. "Jax…we can't."

"Why not?" he asked against the crease between the swell of her breasts as he alternated between flicking his tongue against her skin and sucking a kiss over the same spot as his mouth trailed back up to her mouth—stopping at every fun place in between. Her neck, her collarbone, her shoulder and the spot behind her ear that drove her crazy for reasons beyond his understanding.

"Someone could—_Oh! _Some…someone could…_come," _Tara moaned, as he pushed her panties aside, thrumming his fingers against the liquid heat pooling between her thighs.

Thighs that were contradicting her verbal protest as they slid further apart, giving him better access.

"I want _you _to cum," Jax told her, stroking her just a little harder with his fingers as he gently nipped the curve of her jaw. "Seems like you were having fun the other night…._Don't you want to _cum_, Tara?"_

"I….I want to take a shower," she told him, gasping when he slipped a finger inside of her. "I did…didn't _g-get to earlier…._Di had to….._Oh shit…._Jax…."

"I'm listening…Diane what?" Jax laughed when Tara briefly opened her eyes to glare at him before the increased pleasure—him slipping a second finger inside to join the first had her eyes sliding shut again. His lips were at her ear again, sucking the soft lobe into his mouth before whispering, "I want to take a shower, too, Tara….but I'm gonna need a _cold _one by the time I'm finished making you…..Oh _shit…._how are you so close that fast, babe? I can _tell _you know…I can tell by the way you're clenching around my fingers….._and the way you're moaning in my ear right now…._Fuck…._that's it, Tara…._Cum for—"

Abruptly, Tara curled her fingers around his wrist, squeezing hard until he finally—reluctantly pulled his hand from underneath the covers.

"What happened?" Jax asked, genuine confusion marring his handsome features as she stared at the girl easing herself out of bed. "What's wrong, babe? Did I h—"

Tara didn't turn back around to face him until she reached the door. And the saucy look in her green eyes had his words caught in his throat.

"I have a favor to ask," Tara said, smiling coyly at him.

"What…uh..." Sitting up straight in the chair, Jax cleared his throat loudly—hoping the block in his brain from lack of blood flow would follow suit. "…What favor is that?"

Tara's smile didn't change a tick—yet managed to somehow appear ten shades naughtier. "Well…I was _trying _to tell you….I had to wait for Diane to take my shower…."

Jax nodded. "And?" When she kept smiling at him instead of continuing, he raked a hand through his hair, blowing out a heavy breath laced with frustration—one hundred percent sexual. "I'm sorry, Tara. I can't play _solve the riddle._ I only got one functioning head right now and it's not the one between my shoulders….._you're gonna have to spoon feed it to me, babe."_

Tara giggled, shaking her head. "I'm asking if you can help me…..so I don't have to wait for Diane to come back before her shift."

Jax's eyebrows shot up towards his scalp. "You want me to help you _shower_?"

Tara shrugged, cheeks reddening as her eyes flitted away from his face to stare down at her bed. "Better you than some random nurse I don't—"

"You're _kidding_ me, right?" Tara looked to see Jax already walking towards her pulling his T-shirt over his head.

"I said _help _me," Tara said, laughing as she watched him fumbled with his belt buckle. "I'm not having sex with you in the shower….not my _first _time anyway."

Jax nodded at her, as he pushed her inside the bathroom. "I _am _gonna help you," he promised.

_I'm gonna help every fuckin inch of you._

Jax toed his sneakers off (with his socks still inside them), kicking them out of the bathroom. His jeans followed the same path as he shimmied them off, tossing them in front of the lounge chair in the corner, by the window.

Tara cocked an eyebrow at him as he pulled the bathroom door, clicking the lock on. "You're leaving your boxers on?"

"Do you want me to _behave_?" Jax asked, already eyeing the strings still tied together on the other side of her gown. Tara's answering nod was stiff—almost as if she'd had to fight the urge to shake her head _no _instead. "Well in that case…._Calvin Klein _is our friend. Now….._let's get this off of you._"

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Tara said, giggling as Jax yanked the strings on the other side of her gown, slowly pulling the material from around her shoulder—trying his best to avoid shifting the sling around it.

"_You're _not doing anything," Jax corrected.

"Here, wait a second," Tara told him. Dropping his hands to his sides, Jax twiddled his fingers impatiently as he watched her pull at the Velcro holding the sling in place, easing it off her arm—careful to avoid the casting around it.

"Is that, _okay?_" he wondered aloud, watching her bend it just a little—testing out how it felt.

"I…think so," Tara said, stretching it out in front of her slowly. "Doctor says if I don't move it, it'll get stiff and I might end up needing a second surgery to get the motion back."

"We don't want that," Jax replied. Moving towards her, he lightly curved his fingers around her wrist. "Can you move it up?" Tara nodded. "Want to see how far?"

"Not unless you have a M.D in physical therapy that I don't know about, Teller," she teased, shaking her head.

Jax smirked. "Fair enough…_Can I take this off?_" His eyebrows threaded together in confusion when her smile faltered, embarrassment he didn't understand coloring her cheeks this time. "What's wrong?"

"You'll see," Tara said, gently pushing his hand away before pulling at the metal clips holding the ace bandaging of her arm together. When Jax reached to help her, she shook her head, slowly unwrapping it herself. The more nervous her expression grew, the more confused he became until finally the bandage was completely unraveled. Yanking the final metal clip pinned at her shoulder, the wrapping fell to the bathroom floor. "…..how fuckin hideous is _that _shit?"

Jax wrapped a hand around her wrist again—holding her arm out so he could get a good look at the angry-red, raised scar zig-zagging up the side of her arm from elbow to shoulder.

_Jesus._

Forcing his anger down, he looked up at her, silently praying he was able to keep it out of his voice.

"It's just a scar, Tara," Jax assured her. "It'll heal eventually."

"_Yeah._" Tara scoffed. "Ain't that much healing in the world. The swelling might go down, but this _ugly…._it's…..trust me, Jax. I already asked the doctor. It's only so much fading it'll do. It's always gonna be there….and it looks _awful._"

"So fuckin what," Jax said, shrugging his shoulders.

"The fuck you mean, so _what?_" Tara snapped, pulling her arm out of his grasps as quickly as she could manage.

"It doesn't matter, Tara," he explained. "It's just a—"

"Don't say it!" Tara shrieked, shutting her eyes against the sudden shrillness in her own voice. "Don't say it _again. _It didn't make a damn bit of difference the first time you said it….or when my doctor said it…..or when Diane said the same shit. It doesn't help anything. _So stop fuckin sayin it._"

Why was she always the ones with the scars?

"Fine." Jax moved towards her, gently slipping his arms around her waist. "I won't tell you that its not a big deal. I won't tell you need to stop being such a_ girl_"—he laughed when she punched him in his stomach—"I won't tell you that it's _just _a scar anymore, okay?"

Tara lifted her chin to look up at him. "Thank you."

"I _will_ tell you that you're fuckin gorgeous," Jax said, gripping her waist as she slowly spun her around—moving her until they were standing in front of the mirror mounted above the sink. "You're beautiful, Tara and I love you...and I'd still love you even if that same scar was _here," _he told her kissing her neck. "Or right _here," _he whispered craning his neck to kiss the purpling bruise still raised against the spot above her eyebrow.

Tara shook her head, looking down into the sink. "You're only saying that because—"

Jax pressed his fingers underneath her chin, tilting her face back up—green eyes met his unwavering indigo gaze as he willed her to believe him. "I'm saying it because I _mean_ it, Tara."

Tara turned around, reaching her right arm up to curl around his neck—bringing his face, and the eager lips that went with it down to meet hers.

Jax couldn't think of a single time when merely kissing someone made his knees feel wobbly.

But it wasn't _just _a kiss.

He was kissing Tara—the only girl who had ever made him nervous when he'd leaned in to try it the very first time with her.

He'd never forget that first time he kissed either.

Walking her home from the park by her house—crossing his fingers that she didn't lose her temper and slap the taste—_her_ taste—out of his mouth for doing it. Not really caring if she did, knowing the kiss was worth whatever blow to the face that followed just as long as he got a good glimpse of the fiery expression she always wore when she was angry—the heat in her emerald gaze when she glared at him.

He was merely a moth inexplicably drawn to the flames flickering in all the flecks of green.

"I can't believe how scared I was to admit it," Tara said against his mouth as she pulled back just enough for him to hear her words clearly.

"That you have a scar?"

_"That I love you."_

"You can't be walking around using words like _scared_," Jax said, pulling back to grin at her. "It'll ruin my idea on how to build up your street cred."

A single eyebrow rose as Tara smiled at him. "Okay, now _I'm _the one that needs spoon-feeding…and for an entirely different reason," she said. "What in the Hell are you talking about?"

Jax chuckled. "Your scar," he said nodding his head towards it. "We could say you got into a bar fight. It's always sexy watching chicks brawl…._shit…._I'm turned on just thinking about it."

"You sure you're not the one with the concussion?"

"I'm serious," Jax said, snickering when she shook her head at him. "We could say you got into it with this biker chick name Big Brenda. And they'll be like _Goddamnnnn, look what she did to your arm! _And you'll be like"—Jax folded his arms across his chest, his voice comically high as he rolled his neck. "Oh _yeah? Well you should see that other bitch!"_

"We need to get the blood flowing in your brain again," Tara told him, giggling. "And I _do not _sound like that when I'm angry. My voice doesn't even go that high."

"I don't know, babe," Jax said, casually reaching around her to unclasp her bra. "It sounded pretty high the other night…" Jax bent over, pulling the basket from the floor beside the sink. "This what you're using?" he asked, holding the bundled set of body wash, shampoo, conditioner, lotion, and more. When Tara rolled her eyes, he nodded towards the other end of the bathroom. "Think you can turn the water on?"

And those green eyes were rolling yet again. "I'm not handicap, Jackass," Tara snarked, walking over to pull at the nozzle, twisting it until the water's temperature was to her liking. When she turned back around Jax was pressing the cap off of the shampoo bottle in his hand—holding it up to his nose, visibly inhaling the familiar scent.

"I knew it was something with vanilla," Jax said.

Tara smiled. "Vanilla _honey_," she corrected needlessly as he was already reading the label. "If you like it that much you can borrow it," she teased.

"Do you usually wash your hair first?"

Tara's eyes widened. "_You're gonna wash my hair?_"

"Will you promise not tell anyone if I do?"

Tara shook her head, smirking. "Of courseeee..._I won't._"

_Ope's gonna have a fuckin field day with this._

"Can't blame for me _asking_." Jax shrugged, grabbing the basket with his other hand before walking towards her. Sitting the basket down on the bench behind the trail of the water spraying down, he put the shampoo bottle back inside before reaching to pull the soaking wet panties she hadn't bothered to take off before standing under the water. Tara looked down at him, blushing when he laughed at her initial expression.

"I'm_ behaving_ remember?" Jax reminded her as he stood up. "_Turn around._" Tara turned her back to him. "Lean your head back, babe," Jax instructed, groaning inwardly at how quickly she complied—trying his best to ignore how much he liked giving her orders and watching her obey every one without hesitation. He ran his fingers through her hair from root to tip, discovering in a matter of seconds that it wasn't nearly as fun when he washed his own hair.

"Jax?"

"Yeah?" he answered, massaging her scalp underneath the water.

"You planning on using the shampoo any time soon?"

"Oh. _Right._" Instead of feeling embarrassed, Jax laughed with her as he bent over, squeezing the creamy, gel into his palm. "Step forward a little bit."

As Tara moved away from the spray of the shower, Jax found himself drenched in seconds as he came to a stop where she'd been seconds before. Lathering the suds forming in her hair, he couldn't help leaning down to kiss her shoulder—and her neck.

And then her neck some more.

He wasn't sure if it was the work of his lips and tongue or his fingers massaging the shampoo into her scalp—and it didn't matter.

Tara was moaning—his favorite sound to date, and he couldn't bite back his own groan—the guttural sound vibrating against her skin every time she rocked back against him, rubbing her naked ass back against the cotton boxers sticking to him like a second skin.

"That's enough," Tara breathed. "Time to rinse it."

Jax wrapped his arms around her body—soapy hands palming her breasts, making her moan as he pulled her back until he was against the wall and she was back to standing underneath the spray of the water. Reluctantly, he released the soft mounds from his grip to resume the massage against her scalp.

_"Don't," _Tara said, reaching her good arm up to rake her own fingers against the soapy tresses on her head. "I can do it myself..._and Jax?"_

"Yeah?"

"That doesn't mean stand there and watch."

Nodding even though she couldn't see him, Jax turned to reach for the bottle of conditioner. It was if Tara had eyes in the back of her head.

"Conditioner is _last_," she told him.

Grinning like an evil scientist with a master plan, Jax dropped the bottle in his hand, ignoring it as it rolled across the floor, stopping over the drain in the center of the bathroom tile. He grabbed the body wash and the loofah packaged next to it—tearing the plastic off so fast his thumb chafed against the dry sponge.

No matter.

He had it nice and wet in no time as he made his way back underneath the water, standing behind her. She didn't need instructing this time as Tara immediately moved forward, away from the water before turning around to face him.

_Jesus Christ._

He didn't know where he wanted to start first.

"Watch my arm, Okay?" Tara reminded him, her smile slightly bashful. "It's still sore."

_Head to toe it is._

Squeezing the shower gel onto the sponge, he twisted the cap closed, carelessly dropping it on the shower floor—massaging the soap into the sponge as he stared at the twin swells of warm, glistening wet softness that he wanted to massage instead.

Stepping closer, his eyes finally left hers—unable to resist following the trail of his hand as it rubbed the sponge gently along her neck and shoulders, her collarbone—taking a moment to lightly press kisses along the scar trailing her arm before finally kneading the sensitive limb with the sponge, same as he'd done the other one.

After that came the fun part.

The part that made him wish he had _two _sponges—one for each breast.

Tara shut her eyes, a low moan hissing past the lips she didn't clamp shut fast enough as he traced soapy circles around her nipples.

Did the shower gel taste as good as it smelled?

He doubted it.

He also didn't give a shit—that fact proven when he gave into the temptation, dipping his head to suck each of her nipples into his mouth, gripping her waist, when he felt her feet shuffle, her knees wobbling at the sensation.

It was an assembly line of motions—first his tongue, then his lips, then the sponge.

Jax took his time making his way down her body until he was kneeling in front of her, soaping up her legs, hands roaming her thighs—the hand with _and_ without the sponge. Tara gasped when the sponge made its way around her ass, massaging soap into each cheek as he pressed his mouth against the V between her legs, kissing the damp curls before squeezing soap out of the sponge, onto his fingers. Gently—so softly it was torture for the both of them, Jax rubbed his fingers against her, sliding them up and down her slit, biting down hard on his lip to keep from replacing his hand with his mouth.

"Let's take care of the _Flinstones_," Jax teased, chuckling at the brief glare she shot him when he'd stopped the tortuous ministrations.

When Tara looked down at him, her eyes narrowing in confusion, Jax looked down at her feet, growling, "_Yabba-dabba-doo!"_

Tara giggled, lifting a foot only to kick him in his chest, making him laugh harder. "_Shut up_. My feet are sexy."

Jax widened his eyes. _"Sure_ they are," he taunted, taking more time than was needed to clean between her toes once he realized it was tickling her.

"Enough!" Tara said, pulling her foot out of his grip.

"Okay." Jax stood up, reaching for her wrist—grabbing the injured one a lot gentler as she pulled her back underneath the water. Tossing the sponge back in the basket, he used his bare hands, rubbing them against her skin even when the soap was clearly all gone.

"Soaps gone." Tara smirked at the '_so the fuck what?_' expression on his face, laughing at the tortured groan it elicited when she squatted down in front of him, kissing his thighs as she reached for the discarded sponge.

"You're on your own with that big ass head of yours," Tara told him, nodding towards the head of dripping blonde locks. "How about some shower gel?"

Jax blinked hard—twice. "I'm sorry. _What?"_

Tara snickered. "_Two_ heads. Not enough blood for both of them. _tsk, tsk, tsk." _Deciding to go about it in more demonstrative sense, Tara held the sponge in her mouth by the string on the end of it, curling her fingers into his boxers—slide them down his legs as far as she could get them before he finally snapped out of his daze in time to kick them from around his ankles.

"You wash my back, I wash yours," Tara teased, smiling at him.

Jax was pretty sure the saying didn't go like that.

And mother-_fuck _if he cared.

He had to bite down hard on his tongue to keep from begging her to start with the throbbing erection slapping against his stomach.

And when she didn't—starting with his shoulders instead, part of him questioned if she'd omitted the word _torturing _from between the _love _and the _you _when she'd said it to him.

Tara tilted her chin up, kissing him—tangling her tongue with his as the sponge moved between their chests, guided by her hand as she massaged every toned muscle of his arms and abdomen—reaching around, using the soaping of his back as an excuse to pull him closer.

Jax didn't know where the sponge went.

All he knew was that the hand that was holding it seconds before was suddenly gripping his cock, stroking it slow and hard as she eased him back underneath the water.

"_Shit," _Jax hissed as she rubbed her thumb against the tip.

"Switch places with me," Tara instructed. He didn't even open his eyes as they walked in a circle, underneath the spraying water until he was the one standing directly beneath it.

"_Jax?" _

"Yeah, babe?" When she released him from her grip, Jax didn't immediately open his eyes.

"Can you look at me, please?" She asked. When her voice rang out the second time, Jax's eyes flew open as her breath tickled the fine hairs of his groin. His jaw dropped, his mouth hanging slightly open as he stared down her, sitting on the metal bench fixed against the wall.

Her face.

_Holy shit._

That gorgeous face—and that pretty mouth of hers was inches away from right where he wanted it.

"I'm looking at you, baby," Jax promised, trailing his fingers through her hair.

_I can't _stop _looking at you._

"Don't close your eyes," Tara asked quietly, reaching her hand out to curl her fingers around him again—staring directly in his eyes as she stroked him, inching her lips closer. "_I want to see what feels good to you."_

Tara's eyes never left his as she kissed the tip of his cock, sucking it lightly into her mouth as she watched for his reaction. The fingers threaded in her hair tugged tightly against the strands as she dipped her head, licking the vein pulsing along the underside of his shaft, trailing her tongue further down, to the base of his cock before repeating the act when he moaned loudly in response. Tara took her time, sucking kisses over every inch of him, exploring with her lips and her tongue—wincing only a little when his grip on her hair tightened as she tested to see how he'd like her sucking his balls into her mouth, grazing them with her teeth the way she normally did his tongue.

"Shit. _Sorry,_" Tara said, her expression apologetic when Jax opened the eyes that weren't supposed to be closed in the first place to look down at her.

"Sorry for what?"

Tara was a bundle of nerves—the _bad _kind as she stumbled to find her words.

"I…I thought—"

Quick as a flash, the hand laced in her hair made its way to the curve of her jaw, tilting her head back as he leaned down to kiss her lips. "Everything you do to me feels good, Tara," Jax told her. "Everything you do _with _me. Every single _fuckin _thing. You hear me?"

Tara nodded, smiling at him as he brushed the pad of his thumb across her cheek.

That bright smile was wrapped around his cock again seconds later.

Jax threw his head back—_both _hands gripping the back of her head as she eagerly sucked his cock, gradually easing more of him into her mouth as her head bobbed up and down—until he was tickling the back of her throat.

_"Fuckkk….." _

It was only the only word he could bring himself to remember. That and her name which he chanted over and over—willing himself not to rocking his hips into her mouth as Tara found her own rhythm, speeding up as she was able to relax her throat more for him.

First time.

It was foolish for Jax to think she'd be anything less than perfect. She was always an overachiever—a know-it-all.

_His_ know-it-all.

Tara was perfect—excellent.

Straight A's all across the fuckin board.

There was only one thing missing.

Something she'd completely forgotten to remind him of.

Eye contact.

He wanted to see the look in her eyes as she drove him crazy with her mouth.

Jax curled her hair around his fingers, gently tugging her head back. His cock sprung from her mouth—the disappointment so immediate he almost forgot why he did it in the first place.

The look in her eyes screamed, _What's wrong?_

"Look at me, Tara," Jax told her, his voice strained as he gave up on trying to sound sexy and confident instead of desperate. "_Please don't look away, babe. _I want to see those sexy green eyes when you're sucking my cock."

Had he imagined it?

Or did she really moan in response to his words?

Green eyes locked in with a steadily darkening blue as she sucked the tip of him back into her mouth. "Like that?"

"_Just like that."_

Tara pushed her head back down, slowly sliding him in her mouth, her tongue flicking the underside. Opening her mouth wide, Jax groaned as she sucked cock down as far as it would go, deep-throating him slowly—going faster the more confident his moans of pleasure made her.

Jax was completely unhinged.

"Jesus Christ, _you're amazing_," he moaned, no longer able to resist rocking forward, into her mouth. "…and those _eyes_…God, Tara….._your mouth feels so fuckin good_…..don't stop unt—_until_….._Oh fuck…._do that shit again!"

Tara pulled back up, her hand wrapping around the freshly exposed inches, stroking against the slickness from her mouth as she slurped hard on the tip a second time.

Jax was starting to shake, and it wasn't from the sudden freezing temperature of the cold water spraying against his back when the Hot water ran out—five minutes ago.

He couldn't control the impulse as his hands pulled her hair just hard enough to sting her scalp. Like a man possessed, he snatched her hand off his cock, guiding her head down, pushing his throbbing cock all the way to back of her throat.

_"Fuckk, Tara_….Tara, Tara, _baby_…."

_I love you so fuckin much..._

_...You and your mouth_

_FUCK...I love your mouth..._

Jax couldn't shut his eyes no matter how badly he wanted to. He was transfixed—mesmerized as she looked up at him, green eyes blazing as his orgasm tore through him, making every inch of his body tremble.

Tara never pulled away—completely surprising him when instead she sucked harder, swallowing every last drop.

Minutes later, he was still standing with the small of his back under the stream of cool water hitting against it as he leaned over her, his forehead pressing against the wall.

He'd finally stopped chanting her name like her biggest fan in a sold-out concert. He'd finally loosened the grip on her hair, groaning when she let him slip from mouth, smiling up at him like the teacher's pet who'd given the correct answer for a question that no one else in the class had dared raise their hand for.

"Hiding my clothes was one thing, Jax," Tara teased him. "You're out of your mind if you think you're keeping me captive in this shower."

"Don't worry, babe," Jax assured, turning the water off. "I'll let you leave just as soon as every inch of you is dry."

He meant it, too.

But he didn't reach for any of the towels folded over the rack near the bathroom door.

He was on the shower floor, kneeling between her thighs before she could blink.

Tara's giggle of surprised choked off—quickly morphing into a throaty moan as Jax swiped his tongue up and down her slit, lifting one of her legs up, bending it at the knee as he angled her body sideways, sucking her clit into his mouth.

"Oh_, Fuck._" Tara moaned as he flicked at the throbbing bud with his tongue, sucking at the moisture pooling at her center, drenching his face the harder and faster he licked.

Jax lightly grazed the meaty grape between his favorite set of lips with his teeth before pulling back slightly to smile up at her, blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

"I think we might be here a while," he told her, offering no warning as he dove back in, making her knees shake in seconds.

Jax lost track of how many times he made her cum.

And Tara's mind was too gone to even try to keep count.

All he knew for sure was that they both needed another shower to wash off all the sweat.

His and hers.

And she never did get around to using that conditioner...

* * *

**5,985 Words**

**FYI: **I think this chapter is ONE-SHOT worthy...meaning it's **definitely **being added to the "OUTLAW LOVE" collection so don't get too excited when the new chapter email alert for Outlaw Love, titled "HELP ME" pops up. It's this same chapter. But rest assured folks. I have a half-written (okay _less _than half but it's coming along!) One-shot, titled "CAN'T LET GO" headed your way, and it'll be an **brand new **OUTLAW LOVE Chapter.

**NOW...**

How's that Honeymoon phase looking? Did I jump to far a**head**? (lmao. I'm immature. _Accept that)_

**Thoughts? Feedback? Random comments about what you're looking forward to in the next chapter?**

_**I accept all of that sh*t!**_

|REVIEW| if you're ready for a reason to hit the |NEXT| button, folks

**HAPPY NEW YEAR! You guys are all awesome! :-)**


	58. EXTRASODE: Fathers

**A/N: **I was actually supposed to finish writing and post this _EXTRASODE_ a long time ago. I kept putting it off to post new chapters because it felt like the story didn't need it at the time. But now that I'm heading into a new arc in the story I feel we're due a little more background. **Plus **it also coincides with the short story I'm doing for **Opie **that I'll try to flesh out and post soon. (Sorry _UnemployedBee! _My mind is all over the place! lol)

**EXTRASODE: **"FATHERS"

* * *

"TARAAAAAA!"

_Tara Knowles giggled as Thomas Teller ran across his front lawn towards her. She made it as far as the sidewalk directly in front of the house before he barreled into her. Latching onto her like a monkey climbing a tree, his legs and arms curled around her body preventing her from walking any further._

_"Hi, Tommy," Tara said, ruffling his hair. "I _was _going to ask you if you missed me—"_

"_I missed you! I missed you! I missed you!" the animated six year old chanted, squeezing her harder._

"HEY!" _Jackson Teller exclaimed, making the two of them look over towards the Teller's front porch. "You think you can give her a chance to say hi to _me?"

_"Sorry," Thomas said, batting his eyes innocently at his older brother as he finally released her from his embrace._

_Kneeling down towards him, Tara kissed the little kids forehead before whispering to him, "_Don't worry. You're still my favorite."

_"Have you seen Sarah?" Tara asked as she walked towards him._

_Jackson rose up from the middle step of his front porch, walking down to meet her._

_"Not since the other day when we were at Piney's house," Jax answered. "You?"_

_Tara shook her head, chewing her bottom lip. "I don't know why but I feel like she's avoiding me," she admitted. "It's almost like….like maybe…"_

_"Maybe what?"_

_Tara shrugged. "Maybe she found out about the adoption papers, too," she said quietly. "Maybe she's…I don't know."_

_Jackson reached a hand towards her, lifting up her chin. "Trust me," he told her. "Whatever it is, it's _not _that. Sarah's been wanting you two to be sisters since y'all read that book Matilda."_

_"You remember that?" Tara asked, a wide smile spreading across her face._

_Jackson rolled his eyes, but she could see him fighting a smile of his own. "You two were obsessed with that story. At least now I know _why."

_"Admit it," Tara teased. "You read it and you liked it, too."_

_"You're starting to hurt my feelings, Knowles," Jackson said, the worst attempt at a sad expression spreading across his face._

_Tara cocked an eyebrow at him. "Because I think you liked Matilda?"_

_"I give good advice," Jackson said, pointing at his chest. "I make you smile...I buy you ice cream. I _even _let you win when we play cards!"_

_"Uh-huh." Tara folded her arms across her chest. "And?"_

_Jackson held his arms out, spreading them wide. "Tommy's the only one that can get a hug around here?"_

_"You're a little old to be latching on to my legs, Jax," Tara teased, narrowing her eyes when he looked down at the legs in question, a calculating expression on his face. "_Don't even think about it."

_"Thinking about it is all I've got," Jackson joked, pulling Tara in towards him before she could respond—probably saving himself a sore arm judging by the way her hands were twitching like she was debating which one to ball into a fist._

_"You smell funny," Tara commented as she wrapped her arms around his neck._

_"It's probably gun powder," Jackson said. "It has a weird smell. Like saw dust or something."_

_Tara dropped her hands from his neck. His arms fell from her waist as she took a step back, her eyebrows threaded together as she slanted her head, staring at him like he'd confessed to being an Alien from Planet Krypton._

_"You wanna run that by me again?"_

_Instead of worry, a wide smile spread across Jackson's face—excitement brightening his features as he reached for her hand._

_"Come here," he said, pulling her towards his front steps. "Let me show you something."_

_"Where you going Jackie boy?" Thomas wondered out loud as he watched his brother and Tara walking off. _

_Tara stopped short, giggling as she looked back and forth between the two Teller sons. "_Jackie boy?_"_

_Jackson shook his head. "He won't stop calling me that ever since he heard Chibs say it," he explained, rolling his eyes at the six year old playing with his toy trucks on the front lawn._

_"We'll be right back Tommy," Jackson told his younger brother. "Don't move okay?"_

_"Don't talk to strangers," Tara teased knowing how skittish the kid was around people he didn't know._

_"And if someone you don't know tries to talk to you, punch him in his balls and run in the house," Jax added, wincing when Tara punched his arm._

Why the Hell did I let you train with me?

_"Don't teach him that!" Tara scolded, suppressing her smile. "Give him time to be a kid before you make him all outlaw."_

_Jackson's Chesire cat grin was back as he grabbed her hand again._

_"I got something very _outlaw _to show you," he hinted, pulling her through his front door. _

_"Is it the cabinet where you keep the first aid Kit?" Tara joked as she followed behind him nervously. "I think I'm gonna need it when your mother finds me inside her house. Come on, Jax. Let's just go back outside."_

_"Relax, Tara," Jackson said, snickering. "She's in Stockton with her friend Luann, visiting her husband or something. Won't be back for hours."_

_"Maybe I'd feel better if your answer was _she won't hurt you _or _I won't _let _her hurt you," _Tara complained, rolling her eyes as she continued following behind him against her better judgment._

_"I shouldn't have to say it," Jackson crooned, turned towards her to run a finger up her chin. "You should already know…I got your back, _Darlin."

_ As soon as he turned around, Tara kicked the back of his leg, sending him flying forward into the dining room table._

_"What the Hell, Tara?!"_

_Tara laughed. "I keep telling you," she choked out in between giggles. "Stop calling me _Darlin _like I'm one of your groupies, Jerk...And your mother is crazy, Jax. I don't know why but she _hates _me."_

_Jackson walked past her into the kitchen. Back facing her, he yanked one of the drawers open, pulling something from inside._

_"Don't worry, _Darlin_," Jackson said, wriggling his eyebrows when he turned around. "I'll protect you."_

_Tara was too distracted by what was in his hand to notice his deliberate repeat 'Darlin' offense. _

"What the hell are you doing, Jax?_" Tara shrieked, jumping several steps back as she gawked at the gun in his hand. _

_"It's fine, Tara," Jackson explained, looking down at the gun. "The safety is on."_

_"What do you mean the safe—wait, are you—_is that loaded?" _The more Tara stammered, the wider her green eyes grew. "You're playing with a loaded gun? _Are you crazy?"

_"This is what I wanted to show you," Jackson explained, his smile faltering a little. "My dad showed me how to use it. It's for if I ever need to protect Tommy or my mom….he wants me to know how to be man of the house when he can't be here..."_

_"_You're twelve years old!_" Tara snapped, her voice somehow managing to reach an even higher decibel. "Couldn't he wait until you grew a hair on your chin before he signed you up for redneck academy? _Jesus, Jax. _That should be in a lock box away from you _and _Thomas. Why would he—"_

_"_Sarah _thought it was cool_," _Jackson grumbled, briefly rendering the brunette standing in the middle of his kitchen speechless._

_"You showed _Sarah?"

_Jackson's blue eyes narrowed to slits, nostrils flaring. "_What? _Are you gonna get mad that I didn't show you my acceptance letter to redneck University _first?"

_"_No_," Tara lied. "And it doesn't matter—"_

_"Opie showed her his," Jackson blurted, turning his back to put the gun back inside of the drawer. He didn't turn back around to face her. Instead he braced his hands against the counter, staring down at the spotless surface. "Piney taught him too...the whole club was there. They showed us how to…how to pro—you know what? _Forget it. _I don't know why I thought you'd be…I mean, I thought you'd be happy, Tara…..Now I know how to make sure nothing happened like before….to Tommy...or me."_

_He heard her footsteps drawing closer._

_Then he felt Tara's hand on his shoulder. It was almost reflexive when he reached up bringing it down against the kitchen counter, lacing it with his._

_They were always like this. _

_They never questioned any touch, any sudden gesture of comfort. __They always laughed it off when people tried to make it out to be more than what it was. __Over time Jackson Teller and Tara Knowles had become best friends. And there was no shame or blame in them always knowing how to get through to each other._

_"I had nightmares about it for weeks after it happened," Tara confessed, snaking her arm around his waist, her hand resting against his stomach. Her chin just barely missed his shoulder as she leaned her face against his back. "I _don't _want anything to happen to you, Jackson. You _or _Tommy. Not even your mom. That's why your father giving you a gun scares me….I hate thinking about all the reasons he thinks you need one."_

_"We were lucky before," Jackson said. "...My dad…him and the club….they got there in time...he can't always be there..."_

_"That's not on you, Jackson," Tara told him. "What happened wasn't your fault. And it's not _your _responsibility. Just like it's not my fault my mom died and the only way my dad can deal with it is to take it out on me."_

_Jax squeezed her hand. "Tara…what if there was a reason….something else….what if your mom dying wasn't the only reason your dad acts the way he does….may__—may__be he just doesn't know how to l—maybe something's twisting him up—"_

_"Yeah," Tara scoffed. "All the bourbon in his stomach. Its fine, Jax. Its like you said. Focus on the people who _do _care."_

_"Maybe he does care, Tara," Jackson mused. "...maybe he just doesn't know how to show it…JT admitted that it was his fault what happened with me and Tommy and my mom. I _know _he loves us. He just made a mistake…and I forgive him because….Look, maybe your mom made mistakes—" Tara pulled away from him so fast, her nail sliced into his palm. Jackson turned around, his hands already up in mock surrender. "I'm just saying, maybe your father just doesn't know how to—"_

_"What? You been having heart to hearts with my Old man or something?" Tara sneered, crossing her arms over her chest._

_"Don't be a smart ass, Tara," Jackson urged. "I'm just saying—well I'm _trying _to say—"_

_"Say _what?"

_"I know he's an asshole," Jackson said, raking a hand through his hair. "But maybe you should try to understand….like maybe…Okay, listen. I wasn't going to tell you because—"_

_"Try to _understand?_" Tara hissed, her green eyes narrowing. "Understand _what, _Jackson? Why I'm not even thirteen yet and I have to raise myself _and _my father?"_

_"You don't know every—"_

_"And you don't _shit!" _Tara growled. "So stop trying to tell me who my dad is like you—"_

_"_Says the girl that was judging mine five seconds ago…"

_ "Your dad won't be winning any _Father of Year_ of awards either!" Tara snapped. "My dad's a lazy, mean drunk! He didn't hand me a loaded hand gun to play cops and robbers with my six year old brother, okay _Deliverance?"

_"HE'S NOT EVEN YOUR DAD!"_

_Tara's mouth opened wide, snapping shut seconds later._

_Jackson studied her face—taking in all the different expressions fading into each other as she stared at him. Several seconds felt like hours passed before the clearing of her throat broke through the silence._

_"What are you talking about, Jax?"_

_Jackson scrubbed a hand across his face. "You used to say it all the time," he sputtered quickly. "He hasn't been the dad you knew before since your mom died..."_

_Tara narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Yeah….but what do you m—"_

_"Nothing, Tara," Jackson said. "_I'm sorry_….Look, you're right about my dad and I don't like admitting it so I….I was just trying to…I won't say anything about your dad anymore. _Good _or _bad _unless you ask me to, okay?"_

_He could see it in her eyes._

_She knew he was hiding something._

_He was already bracing himself for the confrontation when a chorus of loud barking sounded, breaking through the strained silence._

_"_Shit_," Jackson hissed, secretly happy for a legitimate distraction as he turned to walk out of the kitchen. _

_"Where are you going?" Tara asked, grabbing his arm. "Jax, I want to know what you really—"_

_"I know," he said, placing his hand over the one gripping his arm. "That idiot Randall is probably walking his dogs on our side of the street again...even though Gemma _told _him Tommy's scared of them. We better bring him inside before he pees his pants."_

_"You were scared of dogs too, you know," Tara commented, walking beside him. "I remember when we were in the park and—"_

"MRS. TELL—_MR. TELLER!"_

_Jackson and Tara tripped over each other, both rushing towards the front door as Jackson's fifteen year old next door neighbor's frantic scream tore through the air._

_Tara braced herself against the door, her foot catching at the threshold as Jackson brushed past her—ignoring his front steps completely as he leapt from the porch, running across the lawn towards his brother._

_Thomas was on his side, lying in the grass._

_Stacy Wilson was standing over him, as her older brother Randall skirted backwards, tugging hard on the choker collars of two barking Pitbulls._

_"What the fuck did you do?" Jackson yelled, glaring up at the terrified twelve year old girl as he sat next Thomas, pulling him into his lap._

_"_Nothing!" _Stacy screeched. "Me and Randy were walking the dogs…and I …I guess it scared him and he fell down. I thought he was fine, but he won't get up!"_

_"I _told _you we're supposed to walk them on the other side of the street," Randall shouted as he back further away. "You just _had _to stop by and say hi to Jax."_

_"You didn't see enough of him in _Sunday school_?" Tara hissed, glaring at the crying girl as she knelt down next to Jackson, brushing the hair back from Thomas' forehead. _

_ "It's okay," Jackson promised, looking down at him. "You're gonna be, okay…"_

_"What the Hell are you still standing there for!" Tara screamed. "Go get help!"_

_"My mom's not home," Stacy croaked._

_"_THEN CALL 911!"

_Stacy sprinted across the road, shoving past her brother as he chained their dogs to their fence. Tara watched her run inside her house before she looked over at Jackson._

_"Jax—"_

_"He's gonna be okay, Tara," Jackson declared, looking down at his brother. "His doctor probably needs to change his meds again…like last time."_

_"_I don't feel good Jackie-boy,_" Thomas moaned, rolling his head to look up at his brother._

_"_See," _Jackson exclaimed, looking up to smile at the worried expression on Tara's face. "He's talking. Last time he…this is _good…_Tommy's gonna be okay."_

_Resting her chin against his shoulder, Tara placed her hand over his—over the one resting against little Thomas' chest, shutting her eyes as they waited._

_It was all she could do to sit there with them in silence, p__raying that Jackson was right._

_Thomas would be okay._

Everything _would be okay._

* * *

**THOUGHTS?**

I'm still writing **CH52 **but it was actually easier to post this and edit than try to finish the latest chapter because I have a three year old running around and he _insists _that I dance &amp; sing along with him &amp; Elmo when he's watching _Kids favorite Songs _lol. I need **quiet **to focus so I usually do major writing late at night since I often have trouble sleeping anyway.

Anywhooo...

Lemme know your thoughts. I'll try to hammer out the new chapter tonight if I finish my errands on time =) It's probably going to be long since the first two sections alone is almost **5k **words and I still have way more drama to squeeze in since I want to do a time jump afterwards.

**Do what you do.**

**|REVIEW|  
**


	59. Chapter 52

**A/N: **Hope you guys enjoyed your holidays. I gotta say I am kinda dreading going back to school. The winter semester is always brutal. I am **NOT** a winter baby so travel is frustrating. I'm probably the only West-coaster with more layers on than a seven-tier wedding cake when I'm commuting to and fro. Too bad snowsuits are only made for children lmaoo. I **hate **cold weather.

**Hope you enjoy the latest chapter. (Hope it can tide you over for a little while because I'm about to be very busy the next week or so..._possibly. _We'll see how good of an auntie I can be before I'm screaming for my older brother to come get his rugrats)**

HUGE APOLOGY **in advance **for how long-winded it'll be for some of you. I've given up on stopping the rambling. **Seriously, **I can _**ramscramble**_ (yes I invented a word to ascribe to my rambling writing style) about rambling! I swear I don't even **talk **this much. I actually struggle to find the right words through casual conversation. I'm **totally **the person that will walk away from an argument and five hours later I think of an **even better **comeback and then have to **force **myself not to shoot a text message to the person like "**And another thing!..."**

**\- V**eritable **OLD L**ady **C**row

* * *

Tara stood in front of the bathroom mirror, shaking her head at her reflection.

And then the teenage boy standing behind her.

_Unbelievable._

"_What?_" Jax cocked an eyebrow at her, grinning. "I look like a _stylist_ to you?"

_You look like you belong on the cover of Men's fitness magazine._

_Hell, if I'll tell you that though. _

_If your head gets any bigger you won't be able to stand upright._

"What the Hell does being stylist have to do with you not following simple instructions?" Tara complained, rolling her eyes as she pulled the towel from her head for the third time. "It's not rocket science, Jax. I'd do it myself if I could. You fold the towel to the front of my head, one end over the other one. Then you twist it around, I'll stand up straight and you tuck it at the back._" _Tara leaned over the sink, hanging her head so that all of her hair fell over her face. "Diane forgot to pack my blow dryer. I'm not getting pneumonia on top of everything else…_come on. _Do it. It's really not that hard."

Jax wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against him. Looking in her eyes through the mirror, he dipped his head to kiss her cheek, playfully tugging on the strings of her bathrobe—the towel hanging from his hips loosening as he rubbed his groin against her ass, his lips made their way down to her neck.

_How the Hell did I stay a virgin this long?_

_Oh yeah._

_I stayed the Hell away from you._

"I disagree, Tara," he said, snickering at the lustful expression Tara was trying to hide as he watched her face. "It's _very _hard...and it's only getting _harder."_

"What ever happened to _behaving?"_ Tara questioned, her eyes fluttering shut as his hands found their way inside her robe. "You were….you're sup—_mhmmmm—_Jax….you're supposed to…_God…._.I have to get _dressssed…."_

Jax smiled against her skin, kissing along her neck and shoulder—watching Tara bite her lip through the mirror as one of the hands palming her breasts made its way between her thighs, thrumming a massage against his other favorite place.

"You want to get dressed?" he asked against her ear as he lightly pinched her nipple between his fingers, two of his other fingers easing there way inside her.

_NO._

_Yes._

_NO._

_GOD._

Tara's eyes were shut as she nodded. "_mhmmm_…"

"You _sure?_" Jax taunted, speeding up the stroke of his fingers as he thrust his hips harder—the throbbing erection between his legs rubbing against her ass.

"Jax, _please_," Tara begged, her voice a strangled moan as he sucked on her neck, adding his thumb to the mix—circling her sensitive nub as he slid two fingers in and out of her. "_I'm…..I'm _tired!"

_I just got the feeling in my legs back._

Jax stopped all motion.

The only movement in his body was from the laughter rocking through him, vibrating against her shoulder as he snickered against it.

_Asshole._

"What the Hell is so funny?" Tara asked, frustration laced in voice.

"When you say you're _tired…_"

Tara scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Oh, grow the Hell up."

"Do you mean you're tired of cumming?" Jax teased.

"_Move_." Tara shoved him out of the way before he got the chance, pulling the bathroom door open. "I'll get dressed by myself."

"Good to see your legs still work," Jax joked, leaning against the door as she bent over, pulling a duffel bag from underneath her hospital bed. "I was afraid I might have to carry you to bed after all that _shaking…"_

Tara looked up, narrowing her eyes at him as she shuffled through the contents of the bag. "You are such an _arrogant _jackass," she grumbled, knowing he wasn't far from the truth. "I can't believe I sucked your dick."

"I can't believe that was your first time ever doing it," he admitted out loud. "You're a natural...I guess you're just destined to be the best at everything."

_The fuck?_

"How _sweet_," Tara hissed, lifting one leg up after the other as she stepped into her panties, see-sawing the purple lace up her legs. "When you talk like that it makes me want to get on my knees right now."

_And pray that your dick falls off._

"Sorry," Jax said, realizing his mistake. "I guess no matter what _I'm _destined to put my foot in my mouth."

"_Great." _Tara's smile was so fake it may as well have been plastic. "Another thing we have in common. We both put things in our mouths that don't belong."

_You're doing it again..._

_Tara, stop it._

"_Tara." _Jax stepped away from the bathroom door, walking towards her. He stood there, waiting patiently until she finally looked up from the open bag on the floor to meet the solemn look in his eyes. "I'm _sorry. _I don't really think shit through before I say it…and the whole _tired _thing? I'm just playing with you, babe. I'm not making fun of the fact that this is all new to you…..it's new to me, too Tara—"

_BULLSHIT._

"_Really_, Jax?" Tara cocked an eyebrow at him. If she could cross both her arms, Jax was certain they'd be folded over her chest. It was only thing missing from her signature _Give me a fuckin break _pose.

Tara wasn't used to nervous laughter—not coming from Jackson Teller.

The peevish smile on his face was the only thing that stopped the tremor running through her leg as she fought the urge to take it back to recess in the schoolyard—and kick him in his balls.

"I don't mean the _sex _part," he explained. "The sex part isn't new to me _at all."_

_Ain't that the fuckin truth._

"Yeah, no _shit," _Tara snarked, suppressing her smile as he stumbled his words.

"I don't mean it like—_Jesus Christ. _Do you not get what I'm saying at all?"

"_Sex isn't new to you_," Tara echoed. "I already knew that. _You're a whore."_

_Can't stop._

_I tried._

"Yes, but _you're _new to me, Tara," Jax said.

Tara shrugged, green eyes rolling towards the ceiling. "This was bound to happen sometime, right?" she snarked. "You're just so…._irresistible _and so _so good _at making my legs shake. And you know what else? You're quite the motivational speaker, too…." Tara wriggled her eyebrows—the way Jax loved to do. She raked her fingers through her hair, smoothing the wet strands back—the same way he always ran his hands through the flawless, spun gold on his head. She licked her lips—the way he always did right before he drawled the word _Darlin _at whatever chick he was flirting with at the time. And her voice was comically deep, booming from her chest as she slanted her head to the side, nailing the _Do me Baby _look he loved to cast at girls. _"You're such a _natural, _babe," _she crooned. "_Nobody sucks my cock like you do."_

Jax should have been nervous.

Cautious as he navigated around her latest freak-out—maybe even a little offended by her imitation.

So of course he was none of the above.

The blue-eyed teenage boy she'd just finished mocking couldn't stop laughing long enough to breathe in and out properly.

And it wasn't long before Tara gave up on staying angry and joining in with him.

"Are you done?" Jax asked, chuckling as he sat down next to her on the bed. "You get it all off your chest?"

"Your ego is bigger than your dick!" Tara shrieked. "And I _hate _you."

_I also love you._

"Can we be serious now?" he questioned, pulling at her waist until she finally allowed him to slide her onto his lap.

"I _am _being serious," Tara grumbled.

"I'm _trying _to be serious with you," he argued gently, nudging her chin until she looked at him. "You're not letting me, Tara."

"_Fine._" Tara waved a hand in front of her, green eyes widening as her eyebrows rose. "I'm listening."

"How long were you and that _douche bag _together?" Jax asked, his expression sour as the question left his mouth.

Tara rolled her eyes. "Jackson—"

Jax shook his head. "I'm not throwing anything in your face. I'm trying to make a point and using that asshole is the only way I know how. I'm _trying _here, Tara."

"Five months," she admitted, quietly. "Almost six. But that wasn't about you so I don't know why—"

"_Exactly."_

_Huh?_

"What do you mean—"

"It doesn't matter why you _started _dating him," Jax said. "You wouldn't have been with him that long….if you didn't have….have _feelings_ for him."

"Okay."

"And I _know_ you did more than hold hands," Jax grumbled, his nostrils flaring at the thought of it.

Tara's eyes ballooned. "Are you seriously trying to compare my experience with _David _to all the girls you fooled around with?"

"Yes," he answered, gripping her waist when she moved to jump from his lap. "No, wait—_listen _to me. You said you were _listening_. Keep your ass still and stop jumping to conclusions. I barely know what the fuck I'm trying to say my damn self! How the Hell do _you _know?"

"_Sorry._" Tara didn't even try to make the apology sound sincere. But instead of anger, he found himself smiling in amusement.

"I'm trying to tell you this is new to me," Jax repeated, sighing when those pretty green eyes flitted towards the ceiling again. "Look…girls and guys think differently about shit, right? Most chicks think their first time is supposed to be this fuckin fairytale with the love of their life….rose petals and diamond rings….and if they're not in love they don't want to do it. _Guys are the opposite. _Right? We can't _wait _to have sex. It's all we think about when we're not having it and when we finally get lucky it's _still _all we think about. One track minds…right?"

"Right….." The question mark was heavily implied in Tara's tone of voice as she stared at him.

"This is gonna sound like bullshit, Tara but it's the _truth_," Jax urged, meeting her confused expression. "The way you girls think about sex? That's how guys think about relationships. If we're not in love we don't do it. Not _really. _We might play along just to get what we want from you but we're never really into it."

"So you're saying I should be _honored _that you love me because it means I can hold your attention longer than five minutes?" Tara smirked. "_Please_ tell me you're done so I can let your cocky ass have it like I was _going to_ seconds ago."

"I'm saying you're _my _first," Jax admitted. "Tara, you're my first in the only way that counts to _me. _Not you. I'm not talking about _sex_. And how am I the horny asshole that only thinks about one thing when _you _can't stop focusing on that one thing long enough to realize what you are to me? What I'm trying to _tell _you, you are to me. You want me to write a list of all the girls I fooled around with? _Sure thing, babe_. I'll draw a line through the middle of the paper and give each side of it a category. _Girls I care about _and _the ones that never mattered. _Which side do you think I'm gonna write your name on? Whatever side you think it is you're the _only _one on it….and no matter how you feel about me you can't say the same thing. You liked…._David."_

"Yes," Tara agreed. "But I _love _you."

"And I love you, too," he said. "Probably since we were kids….but I've been scared to admit it because that's _my _fear. You're scared of being another notch on my belt and I'm scared because you're the one girl that could actually fuck me over. Chew me up and spit me out like I did with every other girl before you…._including your best friend."_

"That wasn't all on you," Tara admitted. "I shouldn't have said what I did."

_"I don't care._" Jax shook his head. "And you shouldn't either. It's in the past. _All of them are. _You need to stop trying to compare yourself to them because you _can't. _It's like you said to me before. _Apples and oranges, _babe. You're not the same. You're in your own fuckin category and that brings me to my other _firsts. _You're the first girl I've had a conversation with that last longer than five minutes..._after _I've already seen you naked. You got me talking about feelings and shit and it's like I'm learning how to speak Chinese. Can't you tell by all the shit I say the wrong way?" Tara smirked, and Jax finally cracked a smile. "I'm serious, Tara. You're _new _to me. Fresh out of the box and some asshole forgot to pack the instructions. You won't let me call you _Darlin. _And when I flirt with you it's like playing the slots at a fuckin Casino. First two spins I get lucky and the next I got no chips to cash in because you're shoving them down my throat. I got no idea what to say to you..._I don't even know why you're laughing at me right now!_"

"Wendy doesn't know what the Hell she's talking about," Tara commented, giggling at his frustrated expression. "You should _never _write your thoughts down on paper first. I like you better when you shoot from the hips. It's _hilarious."_

"I'm gonna kill that little gash," Jax muttered, shaking his head as his cheeks reddened.

"_No, no, no!" _Tara chirped. _"Glenda the Good witch _doesn't approve!"

"_Get off of me." _Jax bumped his knee up against her thighs, knocking her off his lap.

Tara threw her arm around his neck—her laughter muffled against his mouth as she kissed him. "How about I give you a cheat sheet?"

"_Please."_

"_I love you_ is _good," _Tara coached, brushing her mouth against his again. "Telling me how _sexy _my eyes are is _also good…" _She kissed the curve of his jaw, nipping at it before pulling back to smile at him. "Calling me _Darlin _will still get you punched…or kicked, depending on what I'm in the mood for…" Jax's chuckled vibrated against her cheek as Tara dipped her head to kiss his neck. "…and as for _teasing _and _playing with me…._when it comes to all things _sex…_I think you should stick to doing it _physically. _ When you use your _words..._you're more likely to piss me off….because you _suck. _And not in the good way…not in the way I did to you. The way I will _never _do to you again if you ever make me feel like you're describing a _hooker _when you're giving me a compliment."

"Anything else?"

Tara nodded. Reaching down towards the bag on the floor, pulling a purple bra from the inside. Shrugging her arms out of her robe, she slid it up both of her arms, turning her back to him as she adjusted the straps on her shoulders.

"Wrapping my hair was a lost cause," Tara taunted. "Think you can handle this?"

"I don't know, Tara," Jax teased as he hooked the clasps of her bra together. "This another first for me. I'm used to taking bras _off _not putting them back on."

"Jax?"

"Yeah, babe."

"I already know how busy you and your dick have been," Tara said as she turned around to smirk at him. "So _FYI? _Reminding me of it when I'm half-naked in front you is _just _like calling me _Darlin."_

"It's not good," he surmised, rolling his eyes at the back of her head.

Tara shook her head. "Not good for you _or _your dick…._Darlin."_

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"You okay?" Wendy asked, laughing under her breath as she patted his back.

"Yeah," Lowell choked out, coughing into one hand, while the other held out the joint out towards her. "It's been a while, that's all."

_Sure._

"_Okay._" Wendy smirked. "I'm glad it's not your first time. I'd hate to think I was corrupting you. You know what they say about weed….it's a gateway drug. I'd feel shitty if I was the reason you ended up experimenting with the hard stuff. I wouldn't want you ending up like your Old man." Lowell Jr. blanched—the redness of his face so bright she could see it in the dim light reflecting from the TV in his bedroom. "_Sorry," _Wendy said. "I don't really have a filter….don't really see the point in having one either. I think everybody should say what they feel, ya know? Less bullshit to sort through."

"It's okay," Lowell told her, taking another pull of the blunt when she passed it back to him. "I know you don't mean anything by it. You're just….well your mom….it's like me and my dad. She's a…a struggling addict, too."

_"Junkie_." Wendy said, sipping from the beer in her hand. "No need to be all politically correct and shit. She's a crank whore and I hope you don't get too pissed at me for saying this but your Old man is pretty fuckin pathetic relapsing after almost sixteen years of sobriety. I mean really, what the fuck is up with _that? _My mom lasted two months one time and I was ready to throw her a party."

"I got this book from the library," Lowell admitted. "It's about addiction and how—"

"—It's a _real _disease," Wendy muttered, sarcasm dripping from every word. "It's an illness just like Cancer or Epilepsy or whatever shit that goes on in your body that you have no control over."

"Well…yeah."

"It's _bullshit." _Wendy rolled her eyes, blowing smoke through her nostrils as she passed the joint back to him. "It's not out of their control. That's like some fat asshole saying he's addicted to hamburgers and cookies and he can't stop eating them no matter how hard it is to walk or find his penis underneath his third stomach when he has to take a piss….or some sick _fuck _saying he couldn't resist touching his four year old niece when he saw what she looked like in a pink leotard. _They know it's wrong. _Do they stop eating? _No. _Does Uncle Touchy find someone his own age to fondle? _Nope. _It's the same shit. Junkies have control over what they do. They _choose _to use because it feels good to them. And they don't give a _shit _how it affects the people that love them."

"My dad's not a pedophile," Lowell argued, glaring at the blonde leaning back against the headboard of his bed. "And your mom's not one either. It's not the same thing. It's not like eating burgers or cookies."

"Trust me, LJ," Wendy said. "I've been dealing with this a lot longer than you have. You never experienced your father _the addict._ He probably got clean because of you and I'm happy he did. That's more than my mom ever tried for me. I just wish he would have stuck with it….instead of going right back to being selfish."

"I don't need years of experiencing it to try to understand it," Lowell replied, accepting the beer in her hand when she held it out towards him. "maybe….maybe if you tried to understand you wouldn't hate your mother so much."

_I don't hate her, I love her. _That's _the problem…_

"Okay, LJ." Wendy angled her body towards him, a sardonic smile spread across her face. "_School me. _What is it I'm not _understanding?_"

"You said they do it 'cause it feels good right?" Lowell waited for her to nod before continuing. "Well maybe that's why they do it….something bad happens…something that's twisting them up, making them miserable and they can't get away from it. Maybe my dad was happy for sixteen years and then something happened and he was miserable like before…Maybe using again is the only thing he could think of that would block out the pain…the only thing that would make him feel good…maybe they get high to balance out the _lows…_"

"What was the trigger?" Wendy asked, her voice cracking. Lowell's eyes widened—he sat up straighter against the headboard as he stared in horror at the sudden tears streaming down Wendy's face. "You say he was happy for years and then one day he's two spins away from blowing his brains out. What triggered it? Clearly _I'm _the trigger for my mom. I'm the only person in her life. Me and her _dealer _slash _boyfriend _and I don't have to tell you which one of us she loves more."

"I'm sorry," Lowell stammered, snatching the lit joint off the comforter of his bed when he accidentally dropped it. "I didn't mean to—_I'm not saying your mom—_I just think that my dad…I think there's a reason—"

"_Who gives a shit what the reason is,_" Wendy screeched. "It doesn't matter! Stop trying to come up with an excuse for the shit your Junkie father put you through. It's _his _fault, Lowell. Who the fuck else it to blame?"

"I BLAME CLAY!" Lowell bellowed. "This shit is his fault! I _know _it is! I just gotta figure out how."

"You think Clay Morrow stuck a needle in your fathers arm?" Wendy goaded. "You think he made him crash his car in a hospital parking lot and collapse in front of you and your mother?"

"You asked me what the trigger was," Lowell said, glaring. "I just told you. It's _Clay. _He's the trigger."

"Don't go pointing fingers at _SAMCRO _Lowell," Wendy warned. "I can think of a few members off the top of my head that won't hesitate chopping them off."

"Yeah." Lowell scoffed. "Like _Clay."_

"Lowell, trust me—"

"He threatened my dad, Wendy," Lowell argued, shaking his head as he cut her off. "I heard him do it. _So did Tara. _We were at the garage and—_"_

Wendy held her hand up, shutting her eyes as she shook her own head. "I don't want to know."

_You look like you're telling the truth._

_And I want no fuckin part of it._

"But I'm trying to explain—"

"I don't care," Wendy snapped, sliding down to the foot of her the bed. Her voice softened along with her expression when she turned to see the hurt look on his face. "I don't mean I don't _care….._I just don't want to be involved, okay? I got enough shit in my life. The last thing I need is MC drama. Besides….I'm not the person you should be talking to."

"Tara won't talk about it either," Lowell said. "I tried to—"

"I'm not talking about her," Wendy corrected. "I'm talking about Jax. I really don't think you should say anything to anyone but since I know you can't help yourself, talk to him. Whatever you saw or heard…._you should tell, Jax."_

"You think he'll believe me?"

Wendy shrugged. "I think he'll tell you to stop running your mouth before Clay shuts it for you. Who knows? All I know for sure is he has a better shot at getting you to listen than I do. I'm not the girl that talks people down from the ledge...if anything _I'm _the one standing on it."

"I know you think the worst about your mom, Wendy." Lowell slid down, sitting at the edge of the bed next to her—rubbing his hand down her arm. "Maybe she deserves it. Maybe not. All I know is you shouldn't think the worst about yourself. It's not fair. And you definitely don't deserve that."

Wendy smirked. "Now I know who to call when I'm really standing on a ledge."

"It doesn't matter how hard you smile," Lowell scolded, shaking his head. "It won't make that joke funny. None of your jokes are funny. They make me want to paint my nails black, pierce my eyelids and listen to Witch House music."

Wendy giggled. "No more Weed for you."

"No ledges, Wendy," Lowell urged. "I'm sick of everyone around me getting hurt. It's ten times worse when it's the people I grew up with. We don't have to best friends or talk every day for me to care if something bad happens to you….or even when you're fine…or whatever….you know?"

Wendy did know but she didn't tell him so—not verbally at least.

Instead she leaned over towards him, smiling as gave him a quick peck on the cheek. The playful look in her eyes morphed into mild surprise when he leaned towards her, pressing his lips to her face.

Wendy smirked at the blush flooding his cheeks. Reaching for the hand still on her arm, she brought up to her mouth, kissing the back of it—taunting him with her eyes in a silent challenge.

Lowell reached for her hand. He brought it up to his mouth, kissing the back of it just as she'd done to him. Wendy was debating just how badly she wanted to tease him when he kissed her wrist. There was a question in his eyes as he stared at her. And whatever he saw in hers had him pressing his lips against her arm.

It had him pulling on that same arm, as his other hand reached for her waist—meeting her half way as he slid towards her. Trembling fingers threaded through her hair as Lowell brushed his lips against hers.

He was nervous.

She could tell by the way his hands were shaking—by the way his heart was beating a bruise against ribcage underneath her hand where it rested on his chest as she deepened the kiss, coaxing his mouth open wider as her hand made its way down to the crotch of his jeans.

Lowell groaned in her mouth as she curled her palm around him—massaging the bulge forming between his legs. When she reached for his belt buckle, Lowell pulled back, anxiety marring his features.

"I've never—"

"_I know." _When Wendy smiled at him this time, it was taunting or cynical. "Do you want to?"

_I've never been with a virgin before. _

_Why should Prince Charming have all the fun?_

Lowell's voice was as strained as the look on his face. "Did you seriously just ask me that?"

Wendy giggled—laughing even harder at the _stuck-on-stupid _look on his face when she stood up from the bed, pulling her shirt over her head. Sliding her jeans down and off, she nodded up at the top of the bed. Lowell couldn't have reach the top of his bed faster if someone shot him out of a canon. Snickering, Wendy crawled her way up towards him, undoing his jeans—sliding the denim and the boxers underneath them down his legs before straddling his lap. Lowell's moan of pleasure completely drowned out her quiet laughter when she guided him inside her. Wendy watched as his eyes rolled back at the first roll of her hips.

Wendy Case didn't have many regrets in her teenage life.

All the shit she wanted to change or take back were things she never had any control over in the first place.

Part of her wondered if a sensitive guy like Lowell Harland Jr. would wake up the next day and regret what they were doing.

Would he think it was wrong?

Maybe so.

But it was like he said.

Sometimes doing wrong was the only thing that felt good.

Highs balanced out the lows—and tonight they would enjoy them both.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

Tara brushed her lips against his ear, kissing the spot behind it.

Jax jerked his head up, blue eyes widening as he confirmed what he was physically feeling through the mirror.

She'd taken off her pajamas—top and bottom.

"I love you, Jackson Nathaniel Teller," she whispered huskily. She wasn't even trying to hide the laughter in her voice. "I love you _so fuckin much, _baby."

_Shit._

"Cut it out, Tara."

"But I love you though," she said, smiling innocently at him through the mirror as he pushed the head of the cheap, tiny toothbrush in his hand through the plastic wrapped around it.

"Did you brush your teeth?" he asked, reaching for the travel-size tube of toothpaste on the sink.

"You like Stevie Wonder?" Tara giggled at the_, What the fuck? _expression reflecting back at her. "My mom loved him…she even made Mr. _Badass Biker _Piney a closet fan."

_That's not all she did, babe, _Jax thought before pushing it aside.

_"Sure_." Jackson shrugged, pouring toothpaste across the bristles. "I know a few of his songs. I guess he's alright. Not really my kind of—"

"_I don't wanna boreeeee you with ittt….oh but I love you, I love you, I _loveee you!"

Jax chuckled. "Finally. Something you're terrible at…._singing."_

"My voice is _amazing,_" Tara challenged, sticking her tongue out at him.

"It's amazing how bad it is," he told her. "Or amazing that you're too tone deaf to know it's bad. Either way it sure as shit ain't amazing _grace. _The graceful thing to do would be to never sing again."

Tara mushed the back of his head—giggling when the toothpaste meant for his mouth ended up all over his nose.

Jax's eyebrows rose as he glared at her through the mirror. "You're such a pain in the ass."

"Well they say pain is _beauty," _Tara joked, smiling at him.

Jax rolled his eyes. "Now who's the arrogant one?"

"I was talking about your ass," Tara said, squeezing his butt—palming one cheek, then the other. "It's a thing of beauty."

"Did the Nurse come in and give you something when I slipped out?"

"Oxxxx-aayyyy," Tara chanted, raising the roof with one hand. "Woot! Woot!"

_Where's a camcorder when I need one._

"How much did she give you?"

"One _orrrrr _two." Tara held her hand in front of her mouth, curving it around his ear as she whispered. "I don't think she knew about the bottle Opie snuck me when they were refusing to give it to me before. _Shhhhhh…_Don't wanna get Big brother Opie in trouble…..if word gets out _let's blame the nurse."_

"How many did _you _take_?_" Jax questioned, swatting her hand away as she reached around towards his crotch. "Ten?"

_Did you wash it down with liquid E?_

"Nooo." Tara shook her head. "I'd be dead, stupid. And you'd be all sad 'cause you _loooove_ me and I'm your puppet master so you need me pulling your strings."

"Tara go to bed," Jax said, chuckling.

"I'm waiting for you to put me to bed, _Darlin," _Tara purred, biting his neck.

_Her face….is a pumpkin._

_I hate pumpkins._

_Pumpkin pie…Gemma's awful pumpkin scented candles…_

"Ooo-kay." Jax turned around, pushing her out of the bathroom, guiding her towards the bed. "Lay down." Tara slid back on the bed, turning her body towards him as he pushed the button to adjust its recline. "Now _relax._ Get comfortable….I'll be right back."

_With a camera to record this shit, because I know you'll deny it later._

"I _can't _get comfortable," Tara whined.

Jax looked towards the shelf on the other side of the room. "You want an extra pillow? Another blanket."

Tara shook her head, biting her bottom lip as she grinned up at him. "I want your head between my legs…."

_PUMPKIN._

_Her head is a fuck—no, no _fuckin_—SHIT._

_She's a pumpkin._

"Why are you calling me a pumpkin?" Tara wondered, yawning. "I like _babe _better. I'm your babe….I love it when you call me that….every time you call me babe I want to kiss you….._all over…._its like the secret password…._to my panties." _

Jax was happy when she started to giggle—because there was no way in Hell he could hold back his own laughter. And the last thing he needed was for her to get mad at him (again.) Angry Tara and Flirty Tara were no different—both versions were sexy as Hell. He didn't think he could handle the two of them, back to back.

Oxy-Tara was going to have to stick around.

"_Stoppp." _Tara shoved the covers off every time he pulled them up, trying to tuck them around her. "_Why are you….is it my panties? You don't like purple panties….Fine….I'll take them off." _His grip was iron tight as he grabbed her wrist, stilling her hand. _"Maybe I should buy pumpkin panties….panties with little pumpkins on them….or _Babeee…._Babe the pig! I wonder if they make those…"_

Jax snickered as he pulled his shirt over his head. "Sit up," he directed. Tara shocked him by actually complying. He didn't realize what a bad idea it was until he was looking at her lying in bed in his T-shirt.

_Pumpkins._

_Dead cats._

_David Douche bag Hale._

"I'm supposed to put your shirt on _after _we fool around," Tara scolded. "You didn't even feel me up! What the Hell, Teller…"

_PUMPKIN._

"I want you to remember _every _time I feel you up," he told her, leaning down to kiss her forehead. Jax chuckled, laughing against her mouth when Tara thwarted his effort, gripping the back of his neck—pulling his lips towards her own instead.

"Go to sleep, Tara," Jax said, pecking her lips one more time. "I love you."

"I've been in here three days and my dad hasn't come to see my once," Tara mumbled, green eyes fluttering closed as soon as she finally laid back against her pillow. "Can you believe that? He's…he's an ass….a _beauty-less _one…he's a booty with no beauty….he's a…_he really doesn't love me…._S'okay though 'cause I'm…..I don't….I don't 'cause I'm your pumpkin…._Babe_ the pump…."

Jax was happy she'd fallen asleep.

She couldn't see the confliction as he watched the rise and fall of her chest.

_I should have just let Sarah tell you._

_I don't know how to._

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"Are you fuckin kidding me?" Diane screeched. Arthur Knowles jumped in surprise, tumbling down the steps—looking up at his younger sister's angry face. "_Three days. _You couldn't even last a week?"

"I just wanted to go see her," the startled man lied. "I want to see for myself that she's okay."

"You're full of shit," Diane snapped. "If they hadn't called me you'd be on your way to the nearest bar…_half way through the fuckin bottle_."

"Where'd you even get the money for this shit anyway?" Arthur grumbled, rubbing his ass when he got up off the ground. "You marry rich like Momma told ya?"

"You need to stop your bullshit, Arthur," Diane seethed. "Get it together or I swear to _God _I'll take Tara and leave….and you'll never get a chance to make it right with her."

"All I ever do is fail that…_that little girl_…" His voice cracked as the first sob tore through him. "…I been blaming her for what her mother did to me….I know how wrong it is but I can't shut it off….And Jesus….she's just like her. My…_my Gracie…._she's got her eyes…and….and that _boy_...it's too late….like mother like daughter."

Her brother's sobbing was an anguished sound—a familiar one that didn't move her one bit.

"You done playing the victim?" Diane barked, rolling her eyes at his crocodile tears. "You're not the victim, Arthur. _She is. _She didn't do _shit. _She didn't ask for any of this and…and you're worried about some teenage boy? She'll grow out of him the same way I did with the guy you had mom threaten to press charges on and get deported when I was sixteen. She's not a _little girl. _In a few weeks she'll be sixteen. Did you forget her birthday, too? On top off how to be a _father?_"

"That's a lot of judgment you're passing, Dee," Arthur challenged. "It's awful strange coming from the girl who skipped town and left the niece she loves _so much _behind to live with her father the deadbeat drunk."

"_I didn't know you were this fucked up!" _Diane growled. "I didn't even know you knew about him until I saw the look on that scheming _bitch _Gemma's face when she said Tara taking care of your _drunk ass _was the Knowles family rite of passage."

"How did _you _even find out?"

Diane shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"_Bullshit," _Arthur hissed. "Does Gracie know?"

_Ugh._

_You got some nerve calling her that._

"Do you _think _she knows?" Diane sneered. "Oh that's right. You'd be too drunk to notice even if she _did."_

"Are you gonna tell her?"

"Why would I make _your _life easier?" Diane scoffed. "Fixing things with your _daughter…._the girl you raised as your own for _nine years…._the one you still love _seven years later _even though you're too screwed up in the head to show her. _That burden is on your shoulders, _brother. I'm already doing more for you than you deserve."

"You think I can't afford to pay for my own rehab if I _wanted _it?"

"That's not what I'm talking about," Diane snapped. "And you know it."

Arthur shook his head at her. "Why did you even come back?"

Diane's chuckle was bitter. "Someone had the bright idea to list me as your emergency contact. Doctor called me that night they had to pump your stomach….I got here as soon as I could. I do have a _life _you know."

_I had one anyway._

"So you know…"

"No," Diane snarked. "I don't have the slightest fuckin clue."

"Insurance doesn't cover it," Arthur commented after a brief moment of silence.

"You let me worry about that."

"I see Moira rubbed off on you," Arthur said. "You got a hero complex just like her. Always trying to pretty up pig….chase after assholes who rather run the streets….in and out of jail instead of at home keeping you warm. It's a good thing you wised up and left that Irish prick. Looks like Gracie's future is gonna be a lot like her mamas if she keeps hanging around that Teller kid."

_Gracie's smarter than you think…_

_You'd know that if you paid her any attention._

"Let me tell you what I _know," _Diane hissed through her teeth. "I know you're too much of a _pussy _to lash out at _Piney Winston. _That's why you're torturing your kid. Did you hear me, Arthur? _Your _kid. Tara Grace _Knowles…_not Winston. Biology don't mean _shit _just like last names don't mean shit either_. _Piney _Winston_ doesn't have a fuckin clue and he act like more of a father to her than _you. _That's what I know!"

"You watch your fuckin—"

"I'm not _done," _Diane growled. "You're my brother and I love you but I also _know _you can't help those that won't help themselves. You need my help….but you haven't done shit to earn it yet."

"You want me to get on my knees and beg?"

"I WANT YOU TO PUT DOWN THE FUCKIN BOTTLE AND BE A FATHER TO YOUR KID!" Diane shoved him hard in his chest, tears glittering her eyes. "God….It hurts to look at you...what happened to guy that helped raise me? What happened to the angry teenager who swore he would _never _be like his Old man when daddy left us to start another family? _What is wrong with you, Arthur? _Do you honestly think she'd love you any less because of something her _mother _did? Or is that the problem? She's her mother's child and you're afraid she'll choose him…." Diane nodded at him, as she stood there in stony silence. "Well _guess what, _Arthur? You're an _idiot _once again. If you told her tomorrow all she'd do is forgive _you _and blame her _dead _mom for denying her a father…_twice. _And when she's not kicking Moira's gravestone she'll be running from Piney…and her _brother. _She'll feel guilty…blame herself for every shot you took….every time you caught her smiling at her…her _next door neighbors_."

"I don't know how to fix this," Arthur admitted, looking down at the ground.

"How about sticking around for a while?" Diane snarked. "How's that for a start? You have to _be _here to fix it. You have to be _sober _to fix it. You have to show me you _want _to fix it."

"How?"

"Six months," she answered sharply. "No _oops, _no lapsing, no _slip ups."_

"Six months and you'll do it?"

Diane shook her head. "Six months _and _you work on your relationship with your daughter….and she's your daughter _only, _you hear me, Arthur? That truth doesn't come out. You're not allowed to _guilt _her into letting you back in."

"What about….._them?"_

Diane shook her head. "You were right," she said. "It's the best advice you've ever given me even if I didn't take it at that time. I had to learn the hard way, _Art. _It doesn't matter how a good a person is when they surround themselves with bad shit. Teenage love? Her high school best friend? Tara's not just some pretty girl with air in her head. She's going places….probably somewhere far away from Charming. She'll grow out of them just like this town…the same way I did. There's only _one _person that puts that at risk….and he doesn't know about her. They don't need to know about each other. And trust me, _Art. _If the shit I've been hearing is true….Piney would happy if his _son _wasn't a part of his lifestyle. _Protect your daughter."_

_Don't let Gemma Teller and all of her _sons _of anarchy poison her._

"Three weeks."

Diane nodded. "Three weeks," she agreed. "You'll be back out in time for Thanksgiving...then we start the count down."

_Six months. _

_No less._

"Yeah." Arthur chuckled, walking off. "That's gonna be a fuckin riot."

Diane watched through the glass double doors, making sure he signed back in before turning to head back towards her car.

_I might end up needing rehab my damn self._

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"Prospect said you were looking for me," Piney said, stopping behind the chair on the opposite end of the table.

Clay nodded towards the chair next to him. "Have a seat."

"I think you're starting to that gavel go to your head, Clay," Piney said, chuckling. "Good thing it's only temporary. I'd hate to see what would happen to the MC if you really were the patch president of Redwood Original."

"Can we put our issues aside for a minute?" Clay answered, waving a hand towards the chair Piney stood in front of. "We need to talk."

"We need a full table for this don't we?" Piney sneered. "Oh….no….that's right. We already voted. The club says _no. _I ain't got shit else to add."

"This isn't about the Cartel deal," Clay lied. "It's about JT."

"What about him?"

"I know you heard the rumor that's been going around about—"

"IT'S BULLSHIT!" Piney bellowed, knocking the chair over on its side.

"I know, brother," Clay said, holding his hands up on either side of his head. "I know it but the other patches ain't so sure. They know about what happened with his boys….losing Thomas…Jackson can't even stand to look at him…and _Gemma_—"

"John didn't run into no semi because he found out you've been fuckin his wife," Piney growled. "If he really gave a shit about that he would have chopped your dick off years ago…and I would have held you down while he did it! That's right _asshole. _John knows all about you…he's the one that told _me…_.and you call yourself his _brother."_

_"_Don't you mean he _knew_ about us?" Clay corrected. "He's a fuckin vegetable, Piney. Even if he lives what's he got to look forward to? Think he'll wake up, strap on his helmet and go for a ride with the club? He's _done. _And the sooner you accept that, the sooner you and me can hammer the shit out between us and get back to club business."

"And what business is that?" Piney sneered. "_Muling drugs?"_

Clay shrugged. "I'm thinking about our future _and _JT's…He's gonna have a lot of medical bills to pay. I don't care what he feels about Gemma. He always takes care of his family and he'd never stick her and his son with debt. Wanting to earn more is the reason we started running guns for the Irish in the first place."

"John's been trying to get us out of this _shit _with Galen and all those other Irish pricks," Piney barked. "You know that. Why the fuck would he replace one problem with a bigger one?"

"Romeo Parada is—"

"_A fuckin drug lord!" _Piney snapped. "We start dealing with those Mexi-assholes they'll cut off our goddamn heads one by one _first mistake _we make, no questions asked. No _low-see-in-TOE!"_

"We're not gonna make any mistakes," Clay argued. "We're—"

"You're damn right we're not! _We're not muling drugs. _Period. End of discussion. You want to call another vote so we can settle this shit again I'll call around and get all the guys in here right now!"

"This is gonna happen whether you want it to or not, Piney," Clay warned, his cool exterior fading as the final shred of patience he had evaporated. "And if you fight me on this brother you're gonna get hurt."

"I'm not afraid of you, asshole," Piney said, chuckling. "Give it your best shot."

Clay shook his head. "No shots, Piney. I know a better way to hurt you…._Opie."_

"You threatening my son?" Piney's eyes widened, reaching a hand inside his Kutte. "Are you out of your fuckin mind?"

"I'm not going to hurt him," Clay answered simply. "I'm just gonna give him what he wants...the one thing you'll _hate." _Clay grabbed the gavel on the table in front of him, holding up in front of him. "As soon as this is officially mine I'll be pushing for some changes in policy here in Redwood…I'm thinking _sixteen _isn't too early to prospect for the MC….and what better way to show to show he's worthy of the patch than holding his own working with the _cartel?"_

"It doesn't matter what policy you change," Piney declared. "My son's not prospecting until I say he's ready….and as long you're sitting in that chair he won't be."

Clay chuckled. "You can't stop him anymore than JT can stop Jax. Those boys can't wait to earn their patch. A Harley and a Kutte is all they've been dreaming about since they were kids. They want to be just like their _daddies. _Who am I to get in a way of that?"

Piney leaned over, sitting the turned over chair upright. "People say _I'm _the voice of reason...but when it comes to you? That _fuckin vegetable _is the only reason you've been around this long. Tread carefully, Clay. John's not here to calm me down right now. _Keep testing my patience, _asshole….and I'll be the one behind the wheel of the truck that runs your Harley off the road. I'll be stone cold sober when I do it, too."

"JT didn't get run off the road by some drunk, redneck trucker," Clay said. "Come on, Piney. Even you don't believe that shit. That's why you're so pissed. You're all twisted up about your best friend…your _brother _because you think something you _didn't _say could have stopped him trying to take the coward's way out. JT is a _pussy. _That's why his Old lady can't even pretend she gives a shit that he's dying long enough to keep her son from hating her."

_"That's a lotta shitee you're talking about a man that's s'pose to be your brudder."_

Piney and Clay looked towards the door—eyes widening in twin expression of surprise at the two men standing in the doorway.

"_Aye._" Chibs nodded his head in agreement at the young Scotsman standing next to him.

"_Padraic?" _Piney growled, stalking towards him.

"How are ya, you fat bastard!" Padraic teased, clapping his hands hard across Piney's back as he pulled him into a hug.

"What's going on, Clay?" Chibs said, looking over at Piney as he asked the question.

"He's still pissed the Cartel vote didn't go his way," Piney said, patting Chibs' on the shoulder as he and Padraic walked past him.

"Where you going?" Padraic asked, watching as Piney kept walking when he stopped at the bar.

"I gotta take care of something," Piney answered, pulling the Club house doors shut behind him.

His bike was parked on their front lawn twenty-five minutes later.

The porch light flicked on.

He could hear_ thwack _of the gun against the end tables surface when she put it down. The snap of every lock clicked off rang in his ears as he waited. Seconds felt like hours as she finally pulled the front door open.

"Hey, sweetheart," Gemma said, softly.

When Piney met her eyes, the knowing—pitying look in them made him wish he'd never come in the first place.

* * *

**Alrighty...**

**A lot of plot covered in this chapter. And the next one is the following morning. It's going to be even more of a challenge to edit/write because all of events are either happening **at the same time **or **within minutes of each other. **I didn't even finish the first draft and I feel like I'm writing a Spec script for an episode of 24. **

**While I'm pondering how to make everything fit...**

**[8,895 Words]**

*Janet Jackson voice* _Feedback...Feedbackkkkk_

**|REVIEW|**


	60. Chapter 53

**A/N: **A lot plot coming up these next few chapters. No worries, though. The Honeymoon phase is still in effect. **J&amp;T **have some fun stuff coming up including another moment a lot of you (cough* cough* _SummerD123)_ have been itching to read.

**FYI: **My One-shot **"ACTION MAN" **is no longer a one-shot. I changed the name to **"BETTER HALVES" **and as of now it's a **two-shot**. I haven't checked the 'complete' button just yet so I **might **end up making it a series of one-shots. Depends on if/when inspiration hits me, ya know?

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

"I made coffee," Gemma announced, heading towards the kitchen for the brewing pot in question.

"I didn't come here for coffee, Gem."

Gemma paused at the threshold, taking a moment to compose herself—to mold her expression, to remember her lines.

_Showtime_, she thought as she slowly turned around.

"I know, sweetheart," the Matriarch admitted quietly. Waving her hand towards the seat in front of him, Gemma made her way back into the dining room, sliding into the chair directly across from it.

Piney never moved to sit down.

"I know you've heard the rumors," Piney declared, gruffly. "A lot of nasty shit being said about my brother…._your husband."_

Sympathy marred her features—the compassion in her eyes destroying any semblance of familiarity. The emotions conveyed in her solemn expression were foreign, nearly impossible to decipher.

Piney barely recognized the woman sitting in front of him.

Gemma Teller didn't _do _pity.

And if it were anyone else standing in front of her, they might have believed otherwise.

"It's not a rumor, Piney," Gemma told him. "It's _true._"

Piney shook his head. "I wanted to give you the benefit of doubt," he admitted. "I told myself it was for your son….that I was doing it for Jackson….and now that I'm standing here looking at you I know I was bullshitting myself. This was about _me. _I wanted to…I_ needed _to believe you weren't that far gone. I know you've done some awful shit in the past but this has got to be the most—"

"What the Hell are you talking about, Piney?" Gemma asked, squinting her eyes at the disgusted expression on his face.

"_Jesus Christ, _Gem." Piney chuckled—bittersweet mirth crackling through the air until Gemma's confusion was no longer insincere. "Were you seriously going to try to convince me that JT ran his bike into a Semi? That he'd abandoned his kid and leave him for you and _Clay _to raise?"

"I'm sorry, Piney," Gemma urged, her expression grave. "I know you don't want to accept it but it's the truth. JT was a coward….and he tried to take the coward's way out." Standing up, she pointed a hand towards the den on the other end of the room. "I have the accident report."

"Did Unser give Clay a copy of it, too or just you?" Piney challenged. His question was met with silence—an eerie stillness that had him laughing in spite of his anger yet again. "I guess Tara's not the only one that thinks I'm a redneck, half-wit biker thug. Clearly you think I'm just as _stupid _as you are. Since when do you take orders from anyone, Gemma?"

"I _don't," _Gemma growled, nails digging into her own skin as she placed a hand on her hip.

"So this was your idea then." Piney nodded. "You're usually smarter than this Gem. Clay doesn't know what loyalty _is _and clearly you don't either. So why the _Hell_ would you risk everything for him without any guarantees? It doesn't matter whose bed you're sneaking out of every night. You're _John Teller's _Old Lady not _Clay's. _I know what his angle is. He wants the gavel so damn bad he didn't hesitate to shit on a good man's reputation…his _legacy _for power. But what do you get out of it? Did he promise you a ring?" Piney's laughter was every bit as nasty as the glare Gemma was shooting him. "I hope you got that shit in writing. _But then again…_we both know how unreliable _paperwork _is….especially when there's a dirty cop on the take, right Gem? What's the going the rate for tampering with a police investigation anyway? I think I'll ask Unser next time I see him."

"You're delusional," Gemma snapped. "Too blinded by your loyalty to a weak man to handle the facts. And you clearly didn't come here to hear them, so what _did _you come here for, Piney? What the Hell do you want from me?"

"I came here for my Godson," Piney explained, simply. "Jackson is the _only _reason I'm giving you fair warning. I already got one brother barely hanging on. Ain't no telling if John'll make it through this, but I do know _one _thing. _SAMCRO _is my family. I've still got a table full of brothers that are hoping for the same thing I am. And I'll be cold and dead before I let that asshole Clay run my family into the ground for his own personal agenda. You need to stay away from him, Gemma. Because if push comes to _blood_? You'll end up being collateral damage. And in spite of all the shitty things you've done to my brother there's no denying how much you love your kid. You need to be an Old lady second and a mother _first. _Think about Jax. Is being the Matriarch really worth losing the only son you've got left?"

_"Get the fuck out of my house."_

Piney nodded, turning to walk away. Hand on the door knob, he looked back at her briefly—sincerity embedded in every word he spoke. "Stay away from him..._or Clay might be the death of you."_

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

Twenty minutes passed before Gemma finally moved from the spot she'd stood, watching as Piney pulled her front door shut behind him.

Relief washed over her—spreading throughout her body until every muscle that had be wound tight loosened, relaxing completely in sync with her breathing, in perfect tune with her mind as the stress of what might have to happen to Piney was finally put to rest.

_He doesn't know._

Piney saw through the bullshit cover story just as she'd expected, proving once again that _SAMCRO's _Acting President Clay Morrow could be just as naïve as the deep-thinking man he was determined to replace—permanently.

She was right about Piney not believing JT tried to kill himself—she never doubted she would be.

But now she knew for sure.

Her unspoken question had at long last been answered.

John Teller's best friend, his right hand—his brother….had no clue that what happened to him was attempted murder.

Piney really believed it was a freak accident.

And for that Gemma was genuinely happy.

Piney's ignorance meant she only had _one _loose end to tie instead of two.

Lowell Harland was the only liability and he would be dealt with accordingly.

Stepping down into the den, Gemma couldn't fight the rueful smile spreading across her face as she twisted the passcode into the security deposit box—wrenching it open to pull a small, brown paper bag from inside of it.

Tonight marked the first time Piney Winston had ever been wrong about her.

Gemma didn't hesitate to agree that her husband had to die. She'd been all too happy to sanction it but compromising his bike was never her idea. The end results was even proof of that.

Any plan Gemma Teller ever executed herself was always met with success.

It was a mistake putting her trust in Clay's ability to follow through—she'd been so caught up in keeping her own hands clean that she'd forgotten why JT was able to handle the weight of the gavel for as long as he had.

John Teller had an Old Lady that always had the right answer for every Who, What, When, Where and Why. She should have never left it up to a man—especially one so power-hungry that his focus was singular.

Lowell was _Clay's _mistake—an error in judgment that _she _would fix.

She wasn't giving him another opportunity to fuck everything up.

For _both _of them.

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

Alex "Tig" Trager looked up from the bar countertop at the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Hey," Tig said, sliding down off the stool. "Where you think you're going, _Prospect?"_

Right hand still curved around the handle, Kyle turned his head—meeting his taunting gaze with confidence. "There's some shit I gotta take care of."

"Damn right," Tig bit back. "Bobby clogged up the toilet again. _Go fix it."_

Kyle smirked. "Clay has me handling some _other _shit. Told me to tell you to handle it."

"You think you're funny asshole?" Tig sauntered towards him. "I know you're a grunt but you should at least know how voting in new members works around here. The decision has to be unanimous and right now I'm not really liking the idea of sharing a patch with you."

"Clay wants to share a patch with me," Kyle boasted. "And I know how _you _work. You'll go with whatever he says like a good little soldier. Or _Sargent_," the young fool taunted, eyeing the Srgt. At Arms patch on the breast pocket of Tig's leather Kutte—the patch _Clay _had been wearing before JT's accident.

"No one will question it if you go missing," Tig threatened, nostrils flaring.

"Relax, _Tiggy_," Kyle urged, smiling at him. "Clay's not replacing you. To be honest I don't think I could fill your shoes even if I wanted to. Your brand of _crazy _doesn't come in my size. I'm just helping him out with a few things." Kyle nodded his head towards the back hallway. "You want to know what's going on? _Ask him._" Pulling on the handle, Kyle opened the clubhouse door, eyes widening briefly when they landed on Herman Kozik—Tig Trager's very own partner in crime. Smirking, the prospect raised his eyebrows at the conflicted expression on the blonde biker's face as he stood at Club Reaper's threshold with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. "Mornin' _Kozy."_

Brushing past him, Kyle patted Kozik on his shoulder—whistling as he made his way towards the _Teller-Morrow _pickup truck on the other end of the lot.

Today was a big day for him.

JT laying down his bike had turned out to be the blessing he never saw coming.

Clay Morrow was giving him an opportunity to earn his place—to prove once and for all that he had what it takes to be a _SON. _

And by the end of the night he'd do just that.

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"That asshole's been walking around here like he's a fuckin patch President the past couple days," Tig commented as they watched the gleeful prospect drive off the lot. "He's really starting to piss me off."

_I guess the fact that Clay's been boxing you out to have secret meetings with him has nothing to do with it._

Kozik nodded stiffly. "It's probably whatever he has going with Clay. He's probably banking on JT not pulling through. It's not like we don't know that's the only way he's getting patched in."

"He's not _getting _patched in," Tig declared. "I don't give a shit what Clay wants."

Kozik snorted. "Could have fooled me."

"Really?" Tig glared. "We doing this shit again?"

Kozik shrugged. "I still don't understand why we're doing this. And you getting pissed with me when I bring it up just lets me know _you _don't even know why. _You don't care why. _You never do."

"You ask too many damn questions," Tig snapped. "Our Prez asks us to do something for him, we handle it. Simple as that. No bitchin and moaning or asking _why."_

"_Clay's not our President," _Kozik corrected, shaking his head. "JT is. And I never have to _ask _why when he wants something done because he brings shit to the table for _all of us _to weigh in on. This shit with Lowell—"

"Needs to be handled…._today_," Tig growled, struggling not to raise his voice. "We don't have time to play twenty questions, _Herm. _We gotta get this shit done. Clay'll fill us in when the time is right. Same thing goes for the rest of the club."

"_Jesus Christ." _Kozik raked a hand through the unkempt, blonde spikes sticking up at the crown of his head. "Only time you call me _Herm _is when you're trying to—"

"_Quit whining like a little bitch!" _Tig snapped. "Let's do this shit. I'm _going..._whether you back me or not."

"I know you are," Kozik said, shaking his head. "That's the only reason I'm here. _To make sure you don't fuck up the way you usually do."_

"Then let's go," Tig urged, walking past him—headed towards his bike. "His wife's shift starts in a few hours. We need to be in and out before she comes in."

_One of these days Clay's gonna lead you straight off a cliff, _Kozik thought as he sat on his bike, next to him. Revving it up, he slowly backed out of the space.

As he peeled out of the lot, riding behind SAMCRO's _Srgt. at Arms,_ Kozik wondered who was the bigger idiot. Tig for blindly following a man who was only ever out for himself.

Or him—the man following behind Tig when he could _see _clearly just how big of a risk it was.

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"_Hey, handsome_." Wendy had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing at the anxious expression on Lowell Junior's face when she walked up to him. "Relax, Junior. I didn't come over here to ask you to make an honest woman out of me or anything."

Lowell cleared his throat.

It didn't help him a bit.

"Good morning," he squeaked.

_I tried._

Wendy giggled. And she couldn't even bring herself to feel guilty about the sudden redness in his cheeks as she sat down on the bottom step of Charming High school's front entrance stairs next to him. "Did you sleep well?" she teased.

"About last night," Lowell started. "Before you say anything, I wasn't lying you know. I really am—well I _was_ a—"

"I couldn't tell," Wendy commented, working overtime to keep a straight face.

"_Yeah?"_

Who said the _Prince _was the only one who could be charming?

Wendy smiled. "Are we really going to talk about it?" she asked. "If you really want to we could….but it kinda takes the fun out of it for me."

Lowell nodded. "Right. Me, too." His face was _just _starting to return to its shade when Wendy started laughing again. "What?"

Wendy shook her head. "Nothing," she answered quickly. Then deciding to change the subject altogether, she asked, "You going to see your Old man after school today?"

Lowell nodded. "Yeah."

"So ummm….you're gonna tell him about what you"—Lowell was already shaking his head No before she could finish her question. "Good….well I was planning on going to St. Thomas to harass Tara and check on Jax and his dad anyway. My last class is ninth period so if you want to ride with—_what the Hell?"_

Lowell immediately followed her line of vision—turning towards the spot over his shoulders. His hazel eyes widened as they both stood up from the steps, rushing towards the left end of the parking lot.

"OPIE!" Donna screamed, pulling on the back of his shirt. "Get off of him! _Opie!"_

"What the Hell is your problem, man?" David Hale grunted, as him and two of his teammates pulled him off of yet another one of Charming High's Varsity football team players.

"And I thought it was entertaining watching _her_ flip out over _you_," Wendy commented, smiling at the murderous expression on Opie Winston's face as he glared at the sixteen year old boy pressing a hand to his bloody nose.

"Not now, Wendy," Opie barked.

"Did you think I was kidding?" Donna growled, shoving hard against his chest. "I wasn't throwing a tantrum. This isn't me teaching you a lesson. I meant what I said, Opie. I'm done. _We're _done!"

Wendy scoffed. "Yeah right. Since _when?_"

Her question was met with stony silence—her dark brown eyes widening when instead of storming off together to kiss and make up, Opie headed towards his father's truck peeling out of the school parking lot, while his _ex-_girlfriend brushed David and the other two football jocks aside, murmuring her apology as she reached a hand up to examine the damage done to Marcus Owens face.

"Wow," Lowell said.

"Yup." Wendy agreed as the warning bell for first period rang. "And that," she said, kissing his cheek before headed back towards the school, "is why I don't do relationships."

_Bitches be crazy._

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

Monica looked up from the gossip column she'd been reading in her email account to see a tall, slender woman yanking toned, sleeveless arms out of a designer leather jacket _she _was still saving up the money to buy.

Tugging at the thin straps of her tank top, Diane Knowles made quick work of pulling her unruly mop of poorly towel-dried hair into a ponytail, completely oblivious to the fact that she was splashing the young nurse sitting in front of the computer next to her with water from the ends of her auburn hair every time she swished her head left or right.

"Is this your first day or something?" Monica asked as she watched her rummage through the messenger bag she'd hastily dropped into the vacant rolling chair on the other end of the desk.

"Good morning," Diane answered briskly, looking up only a moment before resuming her search through her giant bag.

"You're here for the seven to three shift right?"

Diane nodded, finally pulling the keycard she'd obviously been looking for from her bag as she did so. "I'm running late."

Monica's eyes flitted towards the digital time stamp displayed in the corner of her desktop computer. "It's not even six O'clock yet."

"I know."

Monica cocked an eyebrow. "Sooo…what's the rush?"

"Make sure you fill _my _charts out the _right_ way," was all Diane said before she made her way around the semi-circular counter of the Nurse's station desk, sprinting through the double doors to right of her, headed towards the even numbered hospital rooms.

Gemma Teller's fingers were just curving around the door handle when Diane turned the corner. Picking up speed, Diane nearly smacked into her a second time when she finally came to a stop in front of her—right outside of Tara's room.

"What part of stay the _Hell_ away from Tara did you not understand?" Diane hissed, snatching the angry woman's hand away from the door handle.

Gemma made a show of studying the hand she'd knocked away before looking up to sneer at her. "Tara won't be the only one lying in a hospital bed if you put your hands on me again."

"I already told you," Diane started, pointing in her face. "I'm not afraid of—"

"I don't give a shit what you're afraid of!" Gemma snapped, sudden rage contorting her features. "I care even_ less _about the little gash that calls you _auntie. _The only thing I care about is _my son."_

"Then go be with him!" Diane screeched. "Stop stalking his girlfriend you fuckin psycho!"

Gemma's voice was low and deadly—quivering almost when she spoke as she gestured the sharp, black-tinted claws of her fingers towards the closed hospital room door.

"I haven't seen or heard from my son since that _bitch _checked into St. Thomas," Gemma growled. "I'm here for _him _not her."

Diane shook her head, folding her arms across her chest. "You are so pathetic," she said. "At least come up with a better lie, Gemma. You used to be good at making up stories."

"I'm not ly—"

"Day time visiting hours don't start for a few hours," Diane sneered. "And the last time _your son _was here, Tara asked him to leave. She hasn't seen him since."

"Now who's full of shit?"

"I'm calling security," Diane said, moving to stand in front of Tara's door as she pulled out her cell phone. "Your husband's in here so I doubt they'll kick you out of the hospital as a whole but I'm definitely having you banned from this floor."

"I'll go wherever my son goes," Gemma challenged. "And there's not a damn thing you or some rent-a-cop can say about it."

"Your _son _isn't here," Diane hissed through clenched teeth as she scrolled through her phone for the contact number.

_"Then where the fuck is he!"_

"He's _your _responsibility!" Diane retorted, as she hit the send button. "All I care about is protecting mine….._Hi, this is Diane R. Knowles. I'm an NP working in the private suites wing on the fourth floor. I need you to send someone up to room four-two-sixteen…Yes, there's a woman with no authorization to be here trying to get into one of the patient rooms. Her name is Gem—"_

Gemma's nails dug into her wrists as she yanked Diane's arm hard enough to send the cellphone in her hand flying across the hallway floor.

"Get the fuck off of me," Diane snapped. Snatching her hand away, that same hand reaching out to slap the irate mother across the face.

Gemma caught her by her wrist a second time. Balling her other hand into a tight fight, she punched Diane hard in her gut sending her flying into the door—her head banging hard against it. Never the type to give _anyone _a moment to find their footing, Gemma gripped the angry red-head by the thin straps of her shirt and bra—her nails digging into her bare shoulders as she pulled her up just enough to shove her aside, already reaching for the door handle before Diane's knees even hit the floor.

The fingers curled around the metal handle never got to pull.

Instead Gemma's feet were knocked from under her as Diane quickly flipped over, lashing out with her own feet, kicking Gemma's ankle before wrapping her arms around her legs, tackling her down to the hallway floor with her.

Diane launched herself on top of the fallen woman, straddling Gemma's back—two fistfuls of her hair threaded between her fingers as she pulled Gemma's head back as far as physically possible, slamming her face down hard into the floor with a loud crunch.

Heavy footsteps pounded, sounding behind her from around the corner she'd just come from as Diane yanked her head back a second time angling for another meeting of her face with the freshly polished linoleum floor.

Strong arms gripped the backs of hers, pulling her up just as the second, third and fourth set of footsteps circled around to the front of her to reveal themselves as the group of security guards she'd overheard talking about how nice her ass was when she'd walked away from asking them which elevator to take up on her first day of work.

Effortlessly pulling out of the grip on her arms, Diane turned around, stunned to see yet another familiar face.

But this wasn't another member of hospital security.

Although his family's company may have been responsible for more than eighty-five percent of home and business security _systems_—among other things.

"You're back in your hometown a week and you're already getting into catfights?" he asked, smirking at her.

"What the Hell are you doing here, Duncan?" Diane countered, just as she felt her arms being pulled behind her back.

_"Get the fuck off of me!" _Diane heard Gemma screaming behind her. _"I'm not going anywhere until I know where my son is! Let g—you assholes got any idea whose Old lady—whose _wife_ you're arresting?"_

Duncan Kane's eyes flitted away from his wife's annoyed expression to stare at the guard, attempting to cuff her hands behind her back.

"What are you doing?" Duncan exclaimed. "She's the one that called you up here! She _works _here. Let her go!"

_How the Hell did you know that?_

"Look, Sir," the overweight, profusely sweating security guard grumbled as he pushed Diane along, past him. "We'll sort out all the details once we get them downstairs."

"She's a recent hire here you know," Duncan explained, rushing past the guard, only to stop in front of them, blocking his path to the other end of the Hall. "How's it gonna look to her fellow employees, you walking her through the hospital in handcuffs? You gotta let her go now. She can walk without restraints."

"There's one more set of cuffs for you," the third guard commented, coming to stop next to Diane as she looked back and forth between the two men she could see. "You keep interfering with hospital protocol I got no problem with using them, Sir."

"You won't be using those cuffs long," Duncan threatened, his voice calm as she pulled a phone from the inside pocket of his suit-jacket. "Not once I get my lawyers involved."

"You assholes in five thousand dollar suits _love _throwing that L-word around," the guard huffed, making Diane cringe at his hot breath on her neck. "I'm started to get why your wife is hiding from you, son. You just can't seem to resist helping a damsel in distress. Not that I blame you with the tight ass this one's got on her."

"She _is_ my wife," Duncan replied, his cool exterior slowly fading.

"She's your _what?" _Gemma squawked behind her, making Diane roll her eyes towards the ceiling.

_GOD._

_Kill me now._

_No, actually kill that crazy bitch Gemma first._

_Then me._

"Last chance boys," Duncan warned, holding the flip phone in front of him. "Somehow I don't see any of you keeping your jobs once the hospital board finds out you're the reason _Kane Industries _decided against moving forward with the deal they offered discounting _Kane Software _for St. Thomas' new state of the art security system…._then again…_with an upgrade from my company you three are probably looking at a pink slip regardless."

_Pompous asshole._

"_Ughh. _Give me five minutes with the cuffs off," Diane huffed, glaring at the handsome blue-eyed guy in front of her. "I'll take care of him for you _and _meet you downstairs to straighten this shit out."

"What's it gonna be?" Duncan challenged, ignoring Diane's dismissal of his assistance.

Diane sighed heavily when she felt the cuffs sliding off of her wrist.

"_Are you fuckin kidding me?_" Gemma shrieked.

"Relax, Gemma," Diane said, smirking when she turned around to see blood dripping from the enraged woman's nose. Smiling triumphantly, she nodded at the guard standing behind her. "_Let her go, too."_

"Hold on a second," Duncan said behind her. "I'm getting _you _off the hook. Not this crazy—"

_Dealing with _you _or dealing with _Gemma.

_Gemma Teller, no contest._

"My niece got banged up pretty bad in a car accident the other night," Diane explained to the guards. "We're all still a little on edge…" Looking at Gemma, she had to force the words out of her mouth. "She's _family_," Diane said, making a conscious effort to keep her face neutral. "_We're family. _We had a little disagreement...but I should have kept it between us instead of using the fact that I work here to try to get her thrown out…._even if she really _isn't _supposed to be here before visiting hours start."_

"As you can see she's very sorry for inconveniencing you guys," Duncan added.

"Yeah, I'm sure," the guard behind Gemma grumbled as he released her from her handcuffs. "Let's just go, Guys. We don't get paid enough for this bullshit."

Duncan watched as the three men disappeared around the corner. When he turned around to face her he was met with Diane's fist.

"Jesus Christ," he mumbled from behind his hand as he held his mouth. "A simple _thank you _is all that was necessary. What the Hell is—"

"Go home, Duncan," Diane yelled. "I thought I made myself clear. You need to leave."

"How could you make _anything _clear in the three sentences you wrote on that post-it you stuck on the fridge?" Duncan shook his head, smiling. "I thought it was a joke until I walked in our closet to see all your clothes missing. You didn't seriously think you could just skip town and I'd let you go did you? I'm not your _brother_, Diane. I actually _noticed _when you left. And I'm here to bring you back. _Tara, _too. I think she'll like San Diego. The public school dis—"

"_We are not moving to San Diego!" _Diane screeched. "I'm not moving her anywhere. She's staying right here and so am I. _Go home, Duncan. _Call me when your lawyers are done drawing up the papers so I can sign them."

Dunan shook his head. "No. Baby, listen to me. _I'm sorry_—"

"I _cannot _deal with this shit right now!"

"She really can't," Gemma agreed, making Diane spin around as her voice grew louder the closer she got to her. "Whatever issues you got with her are gonna have to wait until _I'm _finished with her."

"I'm done with you, too, Gemma_," _Diane threatened. "Unless you want me to_ finish _breaking the rest of your face."

"When you were running up and down the hospital looking for me did you happen to come across the cafeteria?" Diane asked her husband as she continued to glare a hole into the angry woman's face in front of her.

"Yes, as a matter of fact—"

"My shift starts in half an hour," Diane interrupted. "I take my first break at eleven-thirty. I'll meet you _then…._and we'll talk."

_Then you can take your ass back to Neptune with your family._

_FUCK SAN DIEGO._

There was a pregnant pause when no one in the hallway said anything.

Then finally.

"I love you, Dee_," _Duncan said, walking off. "Make sure you show up. Then we can work through this."

Diane watched through the corner of her eye as he disappeared around the corner.

"I can't keep doing this with you, Gemma," Diane said quietly. "Not _here. _Not where I work. We need to—"

"Save it bitch." Gemma waved a hand at her as she quickly brushed past her, knocking into her shoulder—pushing Tara's room door open.

Gemma sprinted inside of the private hospital suite.

And Diane was hot on her heels, smacking into her yet again when Gemma stopped short.

* * *

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"Why aren't you in school?"

_Because Donna's gonna make me kill someone._

Opie looked up at the sound of his father's voice. Piney stood in the doorway, leaning against threshold of the clubhouse dorm room waiting for his son to answer him.

"I was looking for you," Opie said, shrugging. "You weren't home when I went back so I figured if you'd turn up here eventually. Clay told me you've been stressed out…all twisted up about what happened with JT….I guess that's why you didn't take the gavel even though it's supposed to go to the V-P when—"

"Clay likes to talk out of the side of his neck," Piney interrupted. "I don't talk to that idiot enough for him to know _what's _going on in my head...I'm still waiting for an answer to my question."

"I just told you—"

"An _honest _answer."

"I got a lot on my mind, too Pop," Opie answered honestly. "I really did wanna talk to you."

Piney slowly made his way over to him, sitting at the foot of the bed beside him.

"What's going on, son?" He asked him, smiling. "You and Donna going at it again? You're teenagers for Christ Sakes. Y'all need to stop fighting all the damn time. You're worse than an old married couple."

"You mean like you and mom?"

_"Yeah," _Piney grunted, nodding once as his eyes drifted towards the other side of the room. "I guess so."

"Clay told me about his plans," Opie admitted. "Says he's thinking about changing the bylaws so me and Jax could prospect earlier….he also said you didn't want that for me…..And I guess I'm just wondering why that is….I mean you and Ma used to argue about the Club all the time….the whole reason she—"

"_You're not prospecting early_," Piney barked, his temper flaring. "And as long as Clay has that gavel in his hand you won't be wearing a Kutte at all. Don't listen to him. Don't pay attention to a goddamn word he says to you. Every thing that man does…everything he _says, _its smoky truth. We haven't been Seeing Eye to eye for a while now. That's why he's trying to use you to hurt me. And I'm not letting that shit happen. Stay clear of him, you hear me?" When Opie nodded, he patted his son on the back. Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, Piney pulled him in for a hug, ruffling his hair the way he used to when he was younger.

The gesture brought back memories of his mother and father together—him sitting between them on the couch complaining about whatever stupid cartoon he'd forced them to watch with him.

"Can I ask you something, Pop?"

Piney sighed. Pulling back, he pinched the bridge of his nose—blue eyes flitting shut. "Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like the question."

"It's about Tara's mom," Opie explained. "Someone told me"—Piney abruptly stood up from the bed, towering over him. The intense expression on his face—the zigzag of emotions crossing his features—annoyance, suspicion, sorrow, regret, confusion, and most notably _anger. _The look on his father's face nearly had him backtracking, changing the subject, leaving the room to head back to school.

But he didn't.

Opie was never the type to pull punches, or hold his tongue when there was something on his mind—he was his father's son after all.

"_I know you two were close," _Opie stated. "Did you know her before you and mom got married? I mean she moved here when I was what? Like three?"

"Where is all this coming from?"

"I used to think mom left because of the Club," Opie admitted. "I thought she bailed on you….that she abandoned us because she didn't want to be an Old Lady anymore."

"What brought this on?" Piney wondered. "_Clay?_"

Opie shook his head. "I want to know if—"

"Whatever went on between me and your mother is in the past," Piney declared. "I didn't make her leave. That was her choice, son."

"I know," Opie argued. "But _why? _Why was that her choice? Was it because—"

"_It was for reasons that don't concern you."_

Opie stood up from the bed. Toe to toe with his Old man, the sixteen year old was only a few inches shorter than him. "I think Mary skipping town and leaving me behind has a lot to do with me considering I'm _her _son, too."

"Go to school."

"Who _does_ it concern, Pop?" Opie challenged, his temper flaring. "It's obvious that _you _never gave a shit when she left. Whose left to be concerned about it? Is it _Tara's_ concern? Was it her _father's_?"

"I'm not telling you again," Piney growled through clenched teeth. He pointed towards the open door. "I'm _not _talking about this. And the Clubhouse is for members and hang arounds. You're _neither. _You're a teenage boy. _My son. _And as your Old man I'm telling you to drop this. _Take your ass back to school._"

"Not yet, Pop," Opie countered, crossing his arms. "I'm still waiting for an answer to my question."

"I already gave you your answer," the irritated father barked.

Opie smirked. "I'm waiting for an _honest _answer."

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

Gemma finally spun around to face her minutes later.

Hatred and the tiniest hint of fear swirled in her olive eyes as she stared at the young woman standing in front of her, momentarily stunned to silence.

"You're right, sweetheart," Gemma said quietly, her voice dripping with acid. "Jackson is _my _responsibility. And what I want for him? It's the same thing you want for _her. _It'll protect both of them. _This….._it's a problem. A really _big fuckin _problem."

"I _know_," Diane answered, hating herself for agreeing with Gemma Teller in any capacity.

Gemma nodded, folding her arms across her chest. "You think you can handle this better than I can?" the MC Matriarch challenged, slowly stepping closer to her. "Even after the _magic _I worked on you and _Padraic? _Tell you what, _Darlin. _I'll give you _one _shot to put an end to this shit. I want Jackson back at home where he belongs tonight_…._or I'll handle it _my _way."

"You're way isn't gonna fly, Gemma," Diane warned. "_I'll take care of it._"

"You _better."_

Gemma left the room without another word, leaving Diane alone to stare at the landmine bundled up in front of her, in the middle of the room.

Tara was sound asleep, the most peaceful Diane had seen her since she'd checked into the hospital.

Her dark brown hair was a curtain of thick, wavy curls covering the half of her face that wasn't resting against his naked chest. An entire rack's worth of blankets covered the bed, messily tossed over them—stopping just shy of their waists. Tara's slender frame was hidden underneath the bagginess of his faded, grey |SAMCRO| T-shirt. Wrapped up in one another's embrace, the Ace-bandaging and the brace fitted around Tara's wrist were the only way she could tell for sure whose arms were whose. The top of her head served as the perfect cushion—the resting place for Jax's chin as he held her, the ghost of a smile on his handsome, sleeping face as his chest rose and fell, breathing in sync with the brunette all but shackled to him in center of her hospital bed.

Diane tugged at her ponytail absently, caring not in the slightest when the action resulted in the scrunchy holding it in place sliding down the wet strands, falling to the floor. Looking over towards the window, her hazel eyes ballooned, widening at the wrinkled _Calvin Klein _boxers laid out flat against the heat of the room's radiator as she walked towards the lounge chair near the drawn curtains of two large windows.

_Duncan might be on to something, _Diane thought wryly, shaking her head at the hospitals lackluster security—security that couldn't seem to stop a teenage boy from sneaking in to see his girlfriend.

_"Diane?"_

Diane's eyes snapped back towards the bed as his raspy, sleep-addled voice rang out a second time.

"_Heyyy_." Jax looked down at the brunette still fast asleep against his chest. Raking his free hand through her hair gently, he kissed her forehead. Squeezing the arm around her, he shook her lightly. "Tara…Babe..._Tara, _wake up." Tara's eyes opened slowly. Tilting her head back, a lazy smile spread across her face as she kissed his chin. Cupping one side of her face, it seemed Jax couldn't resist leaning down to kiss her.

Diane was convinced that if she hadn't cleared her throat loudly he would have been happy to continue kissing her as if she wasn't standing there watching.

Tara flinched away from the kiss, her head snapping towards the left of her—green eyes widening when she saw her aunt standing there.

"Diane!" Tara shrieked. Sitting up as fast as she could manage, she turned to glare at the boy still holding her waist as her aunt walked around to the foot of her bed. Jax didn't look the slightest bit guilty as he shrugged his shoulders.

"Your aunt's here," Jax announced, stating the obvious…very much after the fact.

"I see," Tara said, narrowing her eyes at him, her cheeks reddening as she turned back to face the other person in her room. "We were just—I mean last night I thought—and then when he—I mean—"

"Please stop talking," Diane interjected, slapping a hand over her eyes. When Jax started snickering she couldn't help joining in with him as she peeked through her fingers to see Tara's face turn an even darker shade of scarlet. "Somehow I think I'm better off not knowing."

"Looks like you're not the only smart one, _Know-it-all Knowles," _Jax teased the other girl covering her face.

"I tried to get here early so you didn't have to wait until my break to take a shower," Diane explained, pointing up at the clock mounted on the wall in the corner by the bathroom. "You can see how well that worked out. We got twenty-five minutes tops. No double-conditioning today, Gracie. You'll be lucky if you get—_what the Hell is so funny?"_

Tara chewed at her bottom lip, smiling sheepishly at her while the boy in bed with her leaned over, holding his stomach as he laughed next the girl who couldn't seem to decide if she wanted to be mad—elbowing him in his chest—or sit there in quiet embarrassment.

"I don't think she cares about conditioning her hair, Diane," Jax commented, failing to maneuver away from the next sharp elbow Tara threw in his direction.

"_Shut up!_"

"Tick tock," Diane gushed, tapping her finger against an imaginary wrist watch as she stared at the blonde-haired boy chuckling at his own inside joke. "You can visit her later, Jax. Maybe even during _actual _visiting hours. I gotta help her—"

"Umm…Di…." Tara briefly cast a glance towards the boxers laid against the radiator before she seemed to think better of it, green eyes flitting back towards her aunt's puzzled expression. "I kinda already took my shower…"

"You did it by yourself?" A wide smile broke out on Diane's face. "Good for you, Chickadee. I wish you would have waited until I was _here_ to try doing it on your own. I mean the doctor _did _say you'd have full use of your arm after the procedure but—"

"_I had help."_

"—your shoulder is another story. I remember when I dislocated my shoulder when I was thirteen. Your mom had to help me shower for weeks or maybe it just seemed longer because I was so embarrassed. I don't blame you at all. I _hated _needing help taking a—"

"Jax helped me."

Diane stopped talking, her head tilting to one side. "I'm sorry _what_?"

Jax clearing his throat sounded a lot more like him suppressing his laughter.

"She…uh…She didn't want to wait for you," he explained, grinning like a kid at a candy store. He nodded towards the Calvin Klein underwear on the other side of the room. "Don't worry…._I behaved."_

It was Tara who laughed this time.

Jax wasn't far behind her.

_I'm not even going to ask._

"I don't know how the two of you managed to sleep through it," Diane said, rolling her eyes. "Must have been _really _tired from all those games of _scrabble _and _watching TV _late last night."

"Sleep through what?" Tara asked, looking down at her blanket-covered feet as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Your mother stopped by," Diane answered, smirking at how quickly Jax's expression changed from one of amusement to irritation. "She was wondering why her son hasn't been home in a few days. I'm thinking you better get _caught up _with Momzilla before she tries to storm in here again."

"Is that what happened to your shoulder?" Jax asked as he slid his arm from behind Tara's back, standing up from the bed.

Diane looked down, shocked to see fine, pink welts forming where Gemma's nails had dug into her skin—ripping the right strap of her tank top, popping the thin strap of her bra completely. "_Shit. _I didn't even notice that."

"I'm sorry, _Di_," Tara said quietly. "I don't know why that woman hates me so much and after almost sixteen years of trying to figure it out I've given up. I don't want you getting mixed up in it though."

"There's nothing to get mixed up in," Jax barked. Diane turned to see him leaned over, tying the laces of his sneakers. "She's just being a bitch because she thinks you're the reason I can't stand being around her right now. Trust me, you're _not. _You just make it even easier to be somewhere else."

"Jax—"

Before she could finish her sentence Jax leaned across the bed, grazing her mouth with his own—threading his hands in her hair as he kissed her until Diane cleared her throat loudly again.

"I'll deal with my crazy mother," Jax promised. "She's not gonna bother you _or _your aunt again, Okay?"

Diane's snorting laughter (the _yeah fuckin right! _implied) went completely unnoticed by both teenagers.

When Tara nodded, Jax pressed his lips to hers once more—lingering only as long as it took him to lock the buckle of his belt in place before pulling back, smoothing her hair out with the fingers he'd pulled from the thick tresses as he whispered, "_I love you,_" so low Diane almost missed it.

Almost.

Not quite though.

She'd heard him loud and clear—thus the reason for her sudden shortage of incredulous laughter as she gaped at the green-eyed girl staring up at him, smiling.

_"I love you, Jackson."_

The words sounded new—almost like they were still getting used to the way they tasted on their tongues, how it felt to say them, how good it sounded when the other one repeated them, how much it heightened every touch, every intimate gesture each time they were spoken.

But the emotion….

_Damn it._

The feelings were as genuine as they were _old._

This wasn't a recent development.

It wasn't a sporadic discovery unearthed by the shock and scare of accident that could have been way more fatal than it turned out to be.

This wasn't a guy saying _'I love you' _to get into her niece's panties.

And this wasn't a girl who echoed the words because she was in love with the _idea _of being in love.

The words were new.

But the passion behind them was vintage—probably as dated as the years they were old whether either of the googly-eyed teenagers holding hands in front of her were aware of it or not.

Diane Knowles was conflicted—warring emotions pulling at her from all different directions.

Part of her wanted to squeal "_awwwwwww!" _the way she had when her husband's younger brother Logan asked for her advice on getting the perfect birthday gift for his girlfriend Veronica.

Part of her wanted to giggle and cheese like the teenage girl she used to be way back when she was so head over heels in love she let a scary bald guy named _Happy _tattoo a crow across her chest, inscribing the initials of the eighteen year old boy she was in love between the wings. And that same part of her instilled fear in every fiber of her being as she thought about the very _un-_happy ending to that love affair.

Part of her wanted to smack Tara over the head with a bible, and ship her off to a convent the _second _she disagreed with her aunt's demand to never again see or speak to the blue-eyed boy brushing his thumb lightly against the back of the hand laced in his, staring at Tara like it physically hurt him to leave her.

Like he'd said he was going to…ten minutes ago.

And then there was that one final part of her—the part of her that rang loud with a truth neither she nor Gemma Teller could avoid or escape. There was the part of her that knew without a doubt that her reaction didn't matter.

What she thought about them didn't matter.

What she did or _didn't _want for her niece held no value.

The only thing that mattered to Tara—the only person who could scare her away from the teenage boy she was in love with was the teenage boy himself.

_Just like me and Pat._

And judging from the glazed over look in the blue eyes locked with Tara's, the teenage boy she was in love with had meant every word he said when Diane had stopped him in the hallway on his way to see her.

Jax wasn't leaving Tara's side for anyone.

_I wonder if Lumpy's gym is still up and running…_

_I really need to get my left hook back in order…_

Especially his controlling mother.

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Kyle chuckled under his breath as he watched Quentin Hobart's head jut from left to right and behind his back—paranoia offsetting his usual scornful expression when he approached the driver side of the truck.

Rolling the window all the way down, Kyle smiled at the anxious man. "Good morning, Uncle Quint. How's life?"

"I see being a lackey suits you." Officer Hobart sneered. "Now that Clay's got you at his beck and call you think you're somebody, huh?"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "You got what I asked for?"

Narrowing his eyes, Quentin's jaw was set hard as he pulled the manila folder from inside of his jacket. "When you go down for this shit you're not taking me with you."

"You said that already," Kyle commented, snatching the folder—opening it to examine the contents. "As soon as I confirm that this information is legit I'll—"

"I don't want your blood money," the irate officer snapped. "You can keep it. Use it to start a legal fund. You're gonna need one working with _SAMCRO."_

Kyle looked up from the page he'd been reading to glare at his uncle. "I'm not _working _for SAMCRO," he argued icily. "I _am _SAMCRO."

Officer Hobart chuckled, staring at the patch on the breast pocket of his nephews leather Kutte. "I think you're a little confused on what the word _prospect _means in the Outlaw world. Nothing's official yet, son. And I'll tell you this. You might want to start a fund for your funeral expenses…make things a little easier on your mom and my brother. You're so eager to be the black sheep of the family you're gonna mess around and get yourself killed trying to play _gangster."_

"Whatever." Kyle rose up from the truck's chair, pulling a sealed, white envelope from his back pocket. Instead of handing it to him—or even giving him an opportunity to reach for it, Kyle tossed the tiny packet out of the car, on top of his Uncles feet. "You can have the cash now. If this shit doesn't check out, I'll be back here."

"To do _what?" _the officer challenged, eyes widening right along with the taunting smile on his face. "Jesus, Kyle. You really are an idiot."

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"I spoke with your doctor," Diane said, sitting down in the chair beside her bed. "He's still waiting to hear back from your pediatrician but as long as your scans come back clean you should be going home tonight."

"What about school?" Tara wondered out loud.

Diane snickered. "That's up to you, Gracie," she said. "It really depends on what you think you can handle. I definitely don't want you overexerting yourself though. I'm think maybe you should sit Friday out, rest up over the weekend then see how you feel on Monday."

"I'm definitely not staying home Monday," Tara declared. "Missing one whole week of school is bad enough. I'm gonna be so behind and thanks to all of this I probably lost my job, too."

"I guess it's a good thing Donna convinced you to apply with her when we went with her to fill out an application for that boutique in the mall."

Tara frowned. "How am I gonna get there with no car? It was already a hassle getting back and forth to Monroe's. Lodi is even further and it's not like you don't have a job to get to so you can't take me."

"We'll figure something out," Diane promised. "But for now I'm going to focus on the problems that are right in front of me….Listen…._Grace…._I know you said that talking about sex was off the table," she said calmly. "And before I was okay with that. But _now…."_

"I don't know what you want me to say," Tara replied, color flooding her cheeks as she looked down at her blanket covered feet. "I took health class last year, you know. So I already got the basics. I don't need a lecture on protection or sexually transmitted diseases."

"Health class doesn't cover what I want to talk to you about," Diane told her. "I doubt there was a chapter in your textbook about boys named Jackson Teller."

Tara giggled. "He'd have to have his own class to cover him," she said. "And that shit would definitely be college level."

"For someone who doesn't want to talk about sex you sure don' seem to have a problem gushing about his….umm…_skills."_

When Tara laughed this time, it was a nervous sound—her green eyes widening in horror at her aunt's amused expression.

"I didn't meant it that way!" Tara argued. "I meant he's a complicated guy that's all. He would need more than one chapter in a book to understand him."

"_I'm scared, Tara_," Diane admitted, her smile faltering. "I've been here before….I was a teenage girl in love, too….and I don't want you getting hurt."

Tara scrunched up her face—sitting up straighter in bed. "Why do you automatically assume he's going to hurt me? Because _you _got hurt? Not everyone _teenage boy _is the same, Di."

"I'm not saying he'll do it on purpose," Diane argued, gently. "I'm not even saying _he'll_ be the one to do it. I don't want you hurting yourself either, Gracie. _Look at you. _For a second I thought you were going to punch me in the face for suggesting you miss a couple extra days of class. Your education is important to you. Going places…traveling…achieving all your goals. I want that for you. I don't want you letting anything or _anyone _holding you back."

"I wasn't going to punch you before, Di," Tara said. "But right now I kind of want to. Is that really how you see me? As some girl that's going to drop everything for a guy? Build my life around him and what he does? I would _never _do that."

Diane smiled. "It's easy to say that now, Tara—"

"It's easy to say it because it's the truth," Tara argued. "_I know what I want. _Nothing's stopping me from going after it either, Di. I'm meeting with my new guidance counselor first chance I get when I'm back in school. I'm gonna make sure all my classes are in order for the next couple semesters so I can graduate early like I've _always_ wanted to ever since I knew it was possible. I already have a few college credits under my belt and as long as I don't break any more bones I'll be earning a few more over the winter break and this summer, too. I'll probably have my BA before I'm twenty-one. That means I can get a head start on Med school."

Diane's eyes widened. "Medical school?"

Tara nodded.

Sitting back against her pillow, her mind drifted in and out of the present as she stared at the wall, wincing at the memory that had been tormenting her for a long time.

"I could never forget that day," Tara confessed. "…..kneeling there on his front lawn….watching Jax cradle his little head in his lap, brushing his hair back…telling him everything was going to be okay while we just sat there…and waited….Maybe there was nothing I could have really done that would have made a bit of difference…maybe not_…._All I know is I _hated _feeling helpless…feeling _useless. _I couldn't even _try _to help Tommy...I was sitting on a bench in a courtroom pleading with the judge to give my _daddy_ another chance….telling her all these stories the lawyer came up with to help his case…about what a good father he used to be before my mom died…about how hard he tried to take care of me and keep me happy despite how much pain I knew he was in….That's what I was doing when Jax's brother died…feeding a bunch of bullshit to some family court judge just to keep my father around so I didn't have to grow up in foster care because he couldn't stop getting drunk and crashing his car into shit….I wasn't even in the room with them when they got the bad news. And I didn't have to be because I know his doctor said the same thing my mother's doctor said to me and _Arthur…._She told them that they did everything they could….how sorry she was for their loss. I remember questioning it…wondering if they really had did _everything_ just like Gemma….I also remember resenting them because I knew that whatever they did it was more than anything I attempted….anything I could even _hope _to accomplish…..I guess I'm a lot like my mom. I can't help feeling responsible for anything that happens to the people I care about." Tara looked over at her aunt, green eyes glistening as she smiled at her. "He wasn't _my _brother. He was Jackson's. But it still hurt me just as bad when he died. He was fine one second….we weren't even gone ten minutes and then everything went wrong. And ever since then I haven't been able to shake this….this _need _to make a difference. I know it probably sounds silly….or premature…maybe even a little narcissistic. But I want to do something with my life that effects the lives of others in a positive way. _I want to be a healer. _I want to spend my life working overtime to make sure no one has to go through what Jax did…what his mother and father did. And whenever fate has other plans I want to be able to _genuinely _say that I did _absolutely _everything I could. That's my future, Diane. That's what I want and no one's going to keep me from that. I don't know what'll happen with me and Jax. If he'll join his father's club…if we'll still be together ten years from now. The only thing I know for sure is that I love him and the three years I spent denying that is the only time I'm wasting. If it's meant to be we'll figure it out. The only thing I'm guaranteeing is the Doctorate I want hanging up on my wall."

Several minutes passed by before either of them spoke again.

And after the speech she'd been subjected to Diane Knowles only had one thing left to discuss with her niece.

With a labored sigh, Diane cocked an eyebrow Tara. "I didn't hear any mention of _birth control _in your grand plan, Gracie. Med school loans aren't the only expense you'll be dealing with if we don't get you on the pill. _Babies aren't cheap."_

Tara slapped a palm over her face, scarlet-red creeping into her cheeks again as she laughed into her hand.

_The sex had _better _be worth it after I endure _this _conversation…._

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"Baby," Lowell Harland started, squinting at the light seeping into the dark hospital room as the door opened. "I told you, you didn't have to—"

"Good morning, sweetheart," Gemma said, bracing her hand against the railing at the foot of his bed. Lowell Senior sat up, wide-eyed as she stared at the woman standing in front of him. "I hear you're checking into rehab tomorrow."

"That's the plan," Lowell answered, clearing his throat. "What are you doing here, Gemma?"

"I came to help you," Gemma stated simply.

"Help me with what?"

"Your family," the matriarch answered. "Your son is in danger, Lowell.….he's been saying things….making accusations against Clay. And we both know how reactive he is. He's like a wild animal caught in a trap. He'll bite anyone who gets too close to him."

"And you think my son is getting close?"

Gemma nodded up at him. "What did you tell him?"

"About what?"

"Did you tell your wife, too?"

"What the Hell are you getting at, Gemma?" Lowell moved to get out of bed, but Gemma rushed towards his side, gently easing him back against the pillows. "I don't understand."

"LJ's been asking questions," Gemma told him. "This shit that happened with you? Relapsing? He's putting that on Clay….seems to think you were threatened into doing something…that you did it to protect him…to protect your family."

"That's ridiculous."

Gemma smiled. "I know what you did, Lowell," she admitted. "It's okay, sweetheart. It had to be done…just like this has to be done."

"_This?" _Lowell's eyebrows scrunched—his hazel eyes squinting against the darkness as he drank in her expression. "What is th—what the Hell do you mean you—_you…_….Jesus Christ, Gemma. _You were in on this shit, too? _ He's your _husband_. That's the father of your son and you tried to—"

"I didn't try anything," Gemma hissed, nostrils flaring. "That was all you and Clay. I'm just here to pick up the pieces. I'm trying to give you a chance to make sure your son doesn't suffer the consequences of your actions. Clay _will _kill him if he thinks he's a threat. If you didn't believe he was capable of that you wouldn't have done what he asked to do in the first place."

"He didn't _ask _me anything," Lowell snapped. "He threatened me. He threatened my kid."

"And if you don't fix it right now he'll make good on his threat anyway," Gemma declared. "You gotta make sure your son stops asking questions. Any doubts Clay has about what you might say to your wife or kid need to be put to rest. That's the only way you can protect them, baby."

"What are you trying to pull Gemma?" Lowell exclaimed. "What is this about? What are you—"

Leaning over his bed, Gemma pulled the table on the opposite side towards him, the empty surface hanging over his legs. Reaching inside of her bag, she pulled a large, black book from inside, placing it on the table in front of him.

"_I think you should pray on it_," Gemma said, reaching for one of his hands—placing it on top of the bible in front of him. "The answer will come to you….and you'll know exactly what you need to do." Leaning towards his face, she pressed a kiss to his temple before whispering, "Don't worry about Lowell. I'll make sure nothing ever happens to your son. _I promise."_

And with that she walked away, pulling the hospital room door shut behind her as soon as she heard the thin papers of the bible ruffle—as soon as she saw him through the corner of her eye, pulling the ten millimeter syringe from between the pages.

Heading towards the elevator, the triangle above it blinked orange—the metal doors sliding open seconds after the distinct ding of the cars arrival.

Gemma was in deep thought as she stepped inside—so preoccupied with how she was going to fix thing with her own son when he came home that she didn't notice the Nurse standing at the opposite end of the hall, watching her.

Barbara Harland's eyes flitted back and forth between her husband's room and the woman who had just walked out of it until Gemma Teller disappeared behind the elevator's closing doors.

Then she swiftly headed towards his room, pulling the door shut behind her—scaring Lowell Harland Senior for the second time that morning as he dropped what was in his hand, eyes widening in horror as it rolled across the shiny linoleum floor, stopping in front of her foot.

* * *

**The next chapter is the same day continuing. **

**Hope you enjoyed what I've laid out so far.**

**And I just wanted to give a heads up to those of you who haven't followed me as an author. Before I post the next chapter of Uncharming I'll be posting the **first **of a 4-5 part short story called **"BEST POLICY"**. It's Opie Winston centric, covering some back story and behind the scene events that are relevant to **this** story in upcoming chapters, even starting with some events that may have confused you in** this **one. So be on the look out for that.**

[11,000 **plus **words]... I was working on this every spare moment I had between daily "to do's"

How about some feedback?

|**REVIEW|**


	61. Chapter 54

**A/N: **Read away, peeps.

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

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_"…__..It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight….rising up to the challenge of our rival….and the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night…and he's watching us all with the eyeee of the tiger!"_

Kyle pounded his fists hard against the dashboard, banging along to beat of the song blaring from the radio. Bopping his head left to right, he alternated between drumming against the truck's interior and playing air guitar as he waited.

Parked directly across from the Motel's private lot, dark KD sunglasses shielded his eyes as he watched the third door from the left on the second floor of the _Camelot Inn. _

Nearly an hour had passed before the prepaid cellphone in the breast pocket of his Kutte vibrated against his chest. Reaching one hand towards the radio, he lowered the volume as he flipped the phone up.

"_Yeah?" _Kyle drawled. The mere sound of his voice had him sitting up straighter in the cab of the truck. "Oh Hey, Clay…..Yeah….No, he did…..yeah….._trust me_ he didn't give me any problems….I told you my Uncle Quint is…..well yeah, I've been sitting out here for almost an hour though. He either gave the wrong information or this asshole already skipped—_wait hold up a second….._I think he's….._He just pulled up…._He's headed inside his room right now…._okay cool…_I'll let you know if—right, right….I'll let you know _when….._Y'up….Okay, I'll—"

The phone went dead before Kyle could finish his next sentence.

Shrugging off Clay's abrupt dismissal, he pulled the keys from the truck's ignition. Pushing the car door open, he angled one foot towards the ground before something occurred to him. Looking towards the nearly empty parking lot he contemplated the older man kicked back with his feet on top of the check-in desk in the tiny office in the center of the building. Thinking it was better to play it safe, he shrugged out of the leather vest on his back, pulling the white envelope from inside of one of it's pockets before slamming the door shut behind him—swaggering his way towards the other side of the street, through the Motel's lot and eventually up the stairs leading to room two-zero-seven.

Kyle wrapped his knuckles against the door, reaching inside the pocket of his hoodie when he saw the room's blinds fluttering in the window. Several seconds later he heard the door's locks turn.

"_Who the Hell are you?" _the balding man asked, scrunching his eyebrows together.

Kyle smiled. "It depends on how this goes," he answered. "I could be your new best friend or your enemy."

The thick-bearded man snorted. "What the Hell do you want, kid?"

Suppressing the urge to flip out over the man's complete disregard for the threat he posed, Kyle chose to stick to the plan.

"I know the saying is _penny for your thoughts," _Kyle drawled, forcing a lazy smile on his face as he pulled the thick roll of hundred dollar bills from the pocket of his sweatshirt, "But I was actually hoping to buy a little more than that…..."

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Pulling into the spot, Opie twisted the keys from the ignition—his hands gripping the steering wheel as he stared through the windshield at the large building on the other end of the large parking lot.

After the argument he'd had with his father, Opie had taken a page out of his Tara's book—he'd stormed off. But instead of heading back to school (as Piney demanded) he found himself driving to St. Thomas to spend time with the girl that had been on his mind ever since Sarah left.

Ever since his last conversation with her.

He'd been sitting there a good ten minutes before a not-so-familiar figure caught his eye. He may as well have been tip-toeing across the lot with the way he kept looking over his shoulder every couple steps, pulling the hood on his head down over his eyes each time he turned back around, headed towards the hospital.

Curiosity getting the best of him, Opie hopped from the truck—shouting out to the young man traipsing in between the multiple rows of parked cars.

"_HEY!" _The young man flinched—spinning around and the wind knocked the hood right off his head. The wide-eyed expression on his face only served as an even greater incentive to continue walking towards him. "Don't I know you?"

"Umm, I don't…I mean…well _actually—"_

"You were at the mall the other day," Opie interrupted, nodding his head in agreement to his own statement.

"_Guilty_," the blue-eyed guy muttered, chuckling awkwardly as he held his hands up above his head.

"What are you doing here?" Opie questioned, narrowing his eyes.

"I was actually coming to apply for a job," he explained. "My aunt actually works here so I'm hoping a little nepotism will do the trick."

Opie's brow furrowed. "You said you were a tutor."

"Yes," he replied. "But I'm also looking for volunteer w—"

Opie waved him off with his hands. "You know what, man? It's none of my business. I don't even know why I asked."

It was a lie.

Opie knew exactly why he asked.

He'd asked the cagey guy what he was doing there for the same reason he was happy to dismiss the entire situation and walk away.

His best friend had accused him of knocking Tara down in the middle of the Mall. And at the time Opie had believed him without even seeing it with his own eyes.

But that same friend was also a liar—a spoiled, lying, hypocrite when he got good and ready to be.

Shrugging the weird vibe he got standing next to him, Opie brushed past him.

"Good luck with the job….uh…" Opie looked over his shoulder, "Wait, what's your name anyway?"

_"__Joshua."_

"Good luck with your volunteering…._Joshie,"_ Opie muttered, smirking at the annoyed expression that crossed the guy's face as he turned back around, walking off.

It hadn't even occurred to him until after he'd cleared the hospital lobby that Josh was headed towards the hospital when he spotted him and yet had somehow rushed off in the opposite direction after speaking with him.

"_Courtney Reynolds," _Opie said, snickering at the way her eyes went wide when she looked up from the computer screen. "How's your morning going?"

"Hi," Courtney muttered, blushing. "Listen about the other night—"

"It's cool," Opie interjected. "We all screw up every now and then. Tara's fine right?"

"Her last name is Knowles?" Courtney asked, quickly flipping through the chart on the desk. Looking up to see him nod, she scanned the paper again. "They moved her to one of the—"

"I know." Opie nodded towards the pen next to her elbow. "Think you can sign me in so I can go see her? Or did visiting hours not start yet?"

"I hate that I even have to….look…._please _don't report what happened to my—I mean I would have heard if you had already…I probably wouldn't even be—_I need this job, _okay?" Courtney stammered. When his smile widened—mischief twinkling in the light hues of his eyes, her face changed. Looking him up and down, she bit her bottom lip as she appraised his tall, brawny frame and the beard lining his grinning face. "How old are you and your brother anyway?"

_Whoah._

Courtney had been lucky to come across Opie first instead of his best friend. Because if her conversation with Jax had veered in the direction this one was going Opie was positive Jax would have played it in his favor—or _favors _just for the Hell of it. And not only would she have hooked up with a not-quite-sixteen year old boy who never had any intention of reporting her to begin with. Courtney Reynolds would have also learned firsthand that Tara Knowles _really _wasn't dead as she'd wrongly suggested when the brunette in question kicked her ass.

"I'm not a rat," Opie assured her, smirking. "Neither is Jax. You're good. _Trust me."_

Courtney didn't look completely convinced. She still nodded though.

"Thanks," she said, sighing in relief. Pointing a french-manicured finger towards the double doors, she added, "Go ahead."

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Gemma wasn't in his father's room when he went to check.

And he wasn't the least bit surprised about her absence.

Jax knew his mother a lot better than she thought he did. She hadn't been the least bit bothered by her husband—his father's—accident. Ever since that night he'd been waiting for the numbness to fade away, waiting for reality to hit her, waiting for the break down, the moment when grief would finally takes its toll and the mother who used to rub JT's shoulders while he read the latest novel he'd purchased to surface. He'd been waiting impatiently for his mother to show any sign that she was afraid of losing her husband instead of her increasing annoyance when Tara—the girl who'd shed actual tears _with _him over a man who'd played a part in threatening her years before.

Why was Tara more upset over what happened to JT than his own mother?

The only fear Gemma had, the only worry gnawing at her was the mere thought of losing him—her only son.

And Jax loved his mother.

He'd never want to leave her—and before his father's accident he'd never even fathomed shutting her out no matter how pushy and manipulative she was.

But he'd finally figured out how much Tara meant to him. Almost losing the only girl he ever loved finally opened his eyes to what Gemma had known years before he had—to what made her hate Tara the most.

And every time she tried to push Tara out, Jax found himself doing the one thing he didn't think he could ever do, the one thing his mother truly feared.

He couldn't stand to be around her.

But Gemma wasn't losing him.

She was pushing him away.

Jackson and Tara were linked—every shove against the teenage girl she hated had the same effect on her son.

"_NEXT!"_

Jax quickly tossed the magazine he'd been flipping through back on the rack as he made his way to the front of the line in the St. Thomas cafeteria's gift shop. Looking down towards the rows of candy as the cashier rang up his breakfast, Jax smirked at the box of _Ring Pops _in the center of the shelf. The memory brightened the blues of his eyes as he thought back to when he'd slid one on Tara's finger after she'd fallen asleep.

_"__What are you doing in here?" Nurse Crafton had asked, her brown eyes widening in surprise when she entered Tara's hospital room to see she had an unauthorized visitor in bed with her after hours. "I guess you must be the boyfriend. Well I know you miss her, Dear but visiting hours were over….well…yesterday…It's almost four in the morning."_

_"__Family's allowed to stay overnight," Jax grumbled, stretching his arms as he yawned—smiling at the stern expression on the older woman's face as she placed a hand on her hip._

_Nurse Crafton nodded towards the snug embrace he had Tara in as she slept against his naked chest. "You expect me to buy you as her _brother?"

_Tara had stirred, slowly opening her eyes just as Jax lifted her hand, snickering at the confused expression on her face when she peered down at the strawberry flavored ring on her finger. _

_"__We're _engaged," _Jax joked, barely swallowing his laughter as he milked the Teller Charm for all it was worth when he winked at the woman who was failing to suppress her own smile. "Fiancée's fall under the _family only _rule don't they?"_

_Tara giggled, laying against his chest—green eyes studying the begrudgingly amused expression on the Nurse's face as both teens waited for her final verdict. The two of them had watched in comfortable silence as the woman checked Tara's vitals, switching out the IV bags, securing the bandaging around her arm._

_"__You two remind me of me and my Henry," Nurse Crafton commented, smirking at the young couple in the hospital bed. "My daddy couldn't stand him of course. He always thought I could do better….and almost forty-six years later we're still proving him wrong.…" Sticking the final metal clip to the ace bandaging wrapped around Tara's arm, the elder Nurse made her way around the bed, heading towards the door with a nostalgic smile on her face. Looking back at them as she stood in the doorway, she'd cast a wink of her own in Jax's direction as she said, "_I never saw you."

_Those had been her parting words before the door clicked shut behind her._

_Tara was quiet for so long that he'd thought she'd fallen back asleep. Eager to follow her lead, Jax's eyes were drifting closed when the green-eyed brunette wrapped in his arms, muttered, "I'm surprised that actually worked."_

_"__I'm not," Jax answered. "Even your aunt thinks I'm jailbait. I keep telling you, babe. No one's immune to the Teller Charm."_

_Tara smirked. "Right." Then after a brief moment of silence she'd added, "So what's a girl gotta do to get a ring with _diamonds?"

_His response had earned an elbow in his side._

_And it was followed shortly by laughter—which Tara joined in on until they both drifted back to sleep._

"Cash or Credit?" The young cashier asked. The pink bubble expanding in front of her mouth, burst with a loud _pop _as he handed her the twenty dollar bill he'd pulled from the back pocket of his jeans.

Someone tapped him on his shoulder.

Jax spun around just as the tall, business man held a hand out to him saying, "_Here. _You dropped this."

"Thanks," Jax told him reaching for the carton of cigarettes that had fallen from his pocket when he pulled out his wallet.

"You're a little young to be smoking aren't you?" The man commented, as he eyed the faded grey T-shirt he was wearing—the shirt he'd almost forgotten until Diane pointed out that he should probably take his clothes (including his drying boxers by the window) with him when he left Tara's room.

Watching Tara take his shirt off with nothing but her bra underneath it made it hard in more than way for him to leave—Diane's awkward throat clearing be damned.

"You're never too young to get lung cancer," Jax joked as he shoved the carton back down into his jeans. Nodding up at the Cashier giving him the _fuck me _face as he took the paper bag with his purchases in it, Jax walked only a couple steps past the guy who was next on line when his voice rang out again.

"Nice shirt," he said, nodding towards the logo on the front of it when Jax turned back around, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

_Huh?_

"Thanks," Jax said, appraising the man's attire before countering with an equally insincere compliment. "…Nice suit."

_Curious George would love it._

"_SAM-CRO," _the guy said, reading the large block letters printed against his chest. "That sounds very familiar….why is that?"

Jax smirked. "They're internationally known."

Turning on his heel, Jax made his way towards the rows of elevators just outside the main lobby. Pressing the _Up _arrow, he wondered if Diane was still in Tara's room. Glancing up at the clock above the sealed double doors he noted the time, deciding that she'd probably already started her shift.

The elevator dinged—several people getting off, headed towards either side of the moderately crowded hallway. Turning towards the wall of buttons as he stepped inside, Jax was the only in the elevator until an arm shot out blocking the doors from closing.

The doors slid open to reveal the man from the gift shop.

"_SAMCRO," _the man repeated as he'd done earlier. "That's a motorcycle club isn't it? Your father a member?"

Jax scowled at him. "You a _Fed?"_

The tall, handsome man chuckled heartily as he shook his head.

"_Hell _no." Jax stared at the hand being held out to him, blue eyes flitting back and forth between the outstretched limb and the curious smile on the man's face. "I'm a business man actually. Hence the _suit. _My name's Duncan and I'm actually in town visiting family."

Relaxing a little, Jax nodded as the elevator opened on the second floor—a couple and their young daughter stepping inside.

_"__Sorry," _Jax said, assuming the family he spoke of was in the hospital.

"_Oh no_," Duncan exclaimed, immediately catching on. "I didn't mean—_well _my wife's niece is in the hospital but from what I've heard she's going to be fine. I guess I'm just hoping I can track her down again to straighten out this whole issue regarding the phone call I received from my insurance—"

"Okay now I _know _there's no way you're a Fed," Jax commented, smiling at the babbling man. "Those asshole are always in _your _business…they don't run around telling you theirs."

Duncan smirked. "Maybe I just get the sense that you're not big on trusting people you don't know. _Especially _people in suits."

"You don't even know me, Dude," Jax commented, as the elevator zipped up towards the third floor. "Why do you need me to trust you?"

"Well I was actually wanting to ask—"

Jax saw his mother before she saw him.

The elevator came to a stop, the family of three standing beside them rushed out into the third floor hallway, walking front of him as they left.

Gemma was in her own world—clearly in deep thought when she spun on her heel, leaning against the railing of the elevator as the doors slid shut.

"Hey, Ma," Jax said, laughing under his breath when her head snapped towards the corner where he stood behind an abruptly silent Duncan.

Jax was too focused on the heated glare his mother was shooting him to notice the way Duncan was eyeing his mother like he recognized her but much like the logo on his T-shirt he couldn't recall why.

_"__Where the Hell have you been?" _Gemma hissed. "And don't even fix your mouth to tell me you've been holed up in your father's room all this damn time."

"I don't have to lie to you, Ma," Jax replied, shrugging as a lazy smile spread across his face. "You know _exactly _where I was. I could tell by the scratches all over _Diane's _chest. Fighting with Tara wasn't enough? You have to fight with every _Knowles _chick you meet?"

Gemma paused, eyeing the two Superman Band-Aid's on her son's right hand and the pocket of his left elbow. "What happened to you?"

Jax looked down at his arm. "Donated blood," he lied. "I'm trying to improve my karma." He laughed when her expression managed to get ten times angrier. "_Relax, _ma. Diane said you were looking for me. You weren't with JT so I figured I'd run into you eventually….decided to kill some time."

Olive eyes sharp as a tack—Gemma zeroed in on the rolled up paper sticking out of his back pocket. Without the slightest concern for the man she knocked him into, Gemma nudged her son sideways, snatching the papers from his back pocket, rolling them open to read the first page.

"You were giving blood at an _STD_ clinic?" Gemma interrogated, her hand rising to their favorite spot—her cocked hip.

"This is my floor," Duncan announced, sliding past the people getting on the elevator. "_…thank God."_

"Bye, _Duncan_!" Jax called out, shaking his head as he laughed. "I'll tell _SAMCRO _you said Hi!"

Jax didn't blame him at all for wanting to be as far away from his explosive mother as possible.

"Who the Hell is _he?" _Gemma asked, eyeing the departing man suspiciously. "He looks like a—"

"He's not a _Fed,_ Ma," Jax said, rolling his eyes. "Trust me."

"I trust you about as far as I can throw you right now," Gemma lamented.

"Same here," Jax bit back. "What happened to leaving Tara alone?"

Gemma held the papers in her hand up. "Why were you at a STD Clinic?"

Jax smirked. "Don't worry, mom. You'll know when they send you the bill….or when you hear me scream like a bitch the next time I have to take a piss."

_I swear I'll never look at a Q-tip the same way again._

"Tara asked you to do this?" Gemma pressed. "Is that why you can't focus on your family? You too busy chasing new pussy?"

_"__HOLD THE FUCK ON," _Jax snapped, losing his temper just in time to startle the two Nurses waiting to get on the elevator fifth floor. Both women stepped away from the doors, allowing them to slide closed as both Teller's continued their argument—completely forgetting about whatever destination they'd been headed towards prior to running into each other. "Are you seriously gonna stand there and accuse _me _of not focusing on my family? What the fuck were you doing in Bakersfield that was so important? I know you weren't really with Hap's mom. Even Clay didn't believe that bullshit story you told him and that asshole hangs on to your every word like _you're _the fuckin club President."

"I'm your _mother _you little shithead," Gemma growled. "You don't get to talk to me that way. I don't give a shit how pissed you are that I don't like that little—"

"_You want respect?_" Jax barked. "Try acting like you deserve it! Stop behaving like a fuckin teenage girl every time you don't get your way. You're worse than Tara and she's the one that's _fifteen. _I swear to God, Mom….you're flipping out because for _some _reason you feel threatened by her. You think she's gonna steal your son from you? You think me being with Tara is the reason I'm gonna push you away?"

"You _are _pushing me away," Gemma argued. "And she _is—"_

"I'M NOT PUSHING YOU AWAY!" Jax shouted, pointing at her. "You're pushing _me. _ And it's really starting to fuck with my head how easy it is for you do it. My Old man's lying in a hospital bed and you can't even stop picking with my….my….you can't stop brawling with _Tara_ long enough to pretend you give a shit. I pushed _him _away and now I don't even know if I'll get a chance to make that right. When I thought he was dead I felt like stepping out in front of a fuckin Mac truck. _You weren't there. _All you could focus on was Tara…._or the club. _Tara was there for me while you were too busy being an Outlaw instead of my mother. Things are good with us again. And when we're good she's _always _there for me. I finally got a chance to show her I can be there for her, too and you're shitting all over it. Attacking her aunt? Threatening Tara every time you see her? You're the pushing me away, mom. You do every time you try to chase away the one person that's been getting me through this…the one person that actually makes me laugh so I'm not crying like a little bitch because my Old man is half-dead and my mom can't stop being angry long enough to….to….._Jesus Christ." _Jax looked up from the spot on the elevator floor to meet his mother's eyes. "You're the Matriarch, the _First lady of SAMCRO…._everybody in this town knows the name _Gemma Teller _and you never let them forget it. But I'm your _son. _You're street cred don't mean shit to me. It doesn't matter that your name is _Gemma Teller. _I don't need Gemma. I need my mom. _Be my fuckin mother….._Tara's not going anywhere. I _love _her, Ma. I love _both _of you. Why the _Hell_ can't I have both?"

Hook, line and _fuckin _sinker.

That's what it was supposed to be.

Gemma wasn't the only Teller who knew how to manipulate.

And the charm of the youngest Teller easily rivaled his mother's propensity for deception.

Fighting with her didn't work.

He'd got her fighting spirit after all—and neither mother or son gave up once they dug their heels in.

He couldn't yell her into submission.

Guilt was the only hand he could play that would work.

That and appealing to the very thing she cherished, the very reason she was lashing out in the first place.

How much she loved her son—how much she didn't want to lose him.

It wasn't until Jax finished speaking that he realized how heartfelt his words actually were. In his haste to reign in his mother's antics he'd somehow purged the truth they both needed to hear.

He couldn't stand all the outrageous, unnecessary shit she did, but Jackson Teller loved his mother.

He loved her even when he hated her.

And he needed her, too.

"_I'm sorry, baby." _Gemma stepped towards him, pulling Jax into a hug. To the patrons walking onto the elevator, they were probably a parent and child finding comfort in each other for whatever loved one was in the hospital. The mistiness in both of their eyes may have even been an indication of bad news instead of the absolution Gemma Teller sought from her son as he melted into her embrace—the first one in a long time that Jax didn't feel was calculating or suffocating.

The elevator dinged—doors sliding open to reveal the lobby.

"_Shit." _Jax pulled back from his mom, quickly swiping his sleeve under his eye as he finally acknowledge their surroundings.

"I'm guessing you were on your way up…._to see her_," Gemma commented when neither of them stepped out of the elevator.

"Yeah."

"You know once you sleep with her she's going to have certain expectations of you, don't you? Girls like that Tara always do," Gemma lectured. "You're the one always going on and on about how you two are just friends... _best _friends and how much you care about her...If she's the virgin Princess she walks around acting like she's gonna want you to commit. And if you don't you'll never be friends again. You sure you want to ruin your friendship?"

_You lasted ten seconds._

_A new record._

"Normal parents usually wait for the children to _ask_ for advice before they give it," Jax grumbled.

"You don't have a normal parent," she bit back. "You have _this_ one...stop avoiding the question."

"There was a question in there?" Jax smirked. "All I heard was you trying to manipulate me..._as usual_."

_Fourth floor._

_Fourth floor._

_Move faster, damn it._

"Seems like I'm not the only one doing it," Gemma commented. "That Knowles kid is doing an even better job that I am….That….that's what worries me, Jackson."

Jax turned to roll his eyes at her. "Why do you have to be so damn anal all the time?"

"_Anal?_" Gemma smirked, crossing her arms after handing him his paperwork back. "I hope you're not hoping for any of that with her. She would have to remove the two by four stuck up her ass first and I don't see that happening."

Jax actually laughed instead of getting upset.

"You're such a bitch."

Gemma's hand flew out, smacking him over the head—but it was good-natured, playful instead of hostile like her demeanor had been moments before.

Pointing a sharp fingernail at him, she opened her mouth—her scolding response on the tip of her tongue. "Watch your mouth you little—"

Shithead never made it past her lips.

Neither one of them had even noticed when the doors opened again—nor did they noticed the familiar woman standing in the hallway.

At least they didn't until she shoved past the other three people who'd stepped inside the elevator, slamming Gemma hard into the corner wall—her hands around her throat.

"OH MY GOD!" the surgical intern with navy-blue scrubs exclaimed, backing against the wall.

"What the FUCK?!" Jax shouted at the same time, tugging at the iron-tight grip Barbara had around Gemma's throat. The second he got his mother free, he instinctively slid between them. "What the Hell is going on Mrs—"

And his chivalry was rewarded with a hard slap to the face. Barbara shoved him aside.

And Gemma was ready for her.

Grabbing her shoulders, Gemma spun her around slamming _her _into the corner face first, pinning her arms behind her back as she growled harshly in her ear, "_Don't be stupid, Barbara. _Whatever it is you don't wanna resolve it like—"

A heavy blow to her mouth cut her warning short as Barbara flung her head backwards—the height difference resulting in Gemma's lip splitting from the blunt force of her skull.

The male Nurse—_Malcolm _if anyone had bothered to look at his keycard—immediately sprung into action. Reaching to break up the fight, his good Samaritan act fell short as Barbara lunged.

Gemma met her half-way with her own fists.

Mrs. _Oh-my-God _skirted around them all pressing the 'L' among the number buttons lining the elevator wall. It was the only one lit up as no one else had the opportunity to punch in their destination, and for that she was thankful.

"Ladies calm down!" Malcolm yelled, trying to wrench Gemma away from the other angry woman in the closed quarters of the lift.

Gemma's son didn't appreciate the way he was man-handling his mother.

Nor did he care for the woman attacking her for no goddamn reason.

Gripping the back of his neck, Jax tossed Malcolm aside, lashing out against the grip Barbara had on Gemma's hair trying to separate the two of them while simultaneously avoiding the flurry of knees, kicks and punches being thrown from both angles.

No one noticed the scared nurse screaming into the intercom.

But when the elevator doors slid open, the result of her cry for her help met them in the hallway.

The same four security guards from earlier rushed inside.

It was definitely a team effort breaking them apart—even with Jax helping them along.

Barbara was pulled out into the lobby first—only one of the guards detaining her while the other three held Gemma's wrath at bay.

That was when the screaming started.

"YOU THINK YOU CAN THREATEN MY HUSBAND!" Barbara bellowed. "SIXTEEN YEARS OF SOBRIETY…._YOU'RE GONNA PAY FOR THIS SHIT! _YOU HEAR ME BITCH!"

"What's she's talking about, Ma?" Jax questioned as he stared at the deranged woman standing several feet away.

"I don't know what the fuck her problem is," Gemma lied.

"YOU DON'T _KNOW?" _Barbara suddenly yanked out of the grip the officer had on her formerly still arms, shoving her hands into the bag that had miraculously never been ripped from her shoulder throughout the whole ordeal. "YOU DIDN'T HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH _THIS?" _she challenged, rushing towards her as the officer that should have been restraining her stood there shell-shocked as he stared at the large syringe filled with amber fluid in her hand. "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS? IS IT JUST ENOUGH CRANK TO KILL A HORSE? OR DID YOU ADD A LITTLE CYANIDE JUST TO BE SAFE?"

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!" Gemma screamed, struggling against the multiple sets of hands still holding her in place.

Barbara went eerily quiet.

Still.

Then she smiled.

"Let's see how _you _like it," Barbara sneered, her voice low and deadly.

No one reacted fast enough.

Barbara popped the cap off, lunging towards her—aiming the needle, plunging deep into her shoulder as Gemma jerked sideways, the syringe missing her neck by mere inches.

The guards that had been restraining Gemma had skirted backwards—basic survival instinct overruling the need to do their jobs as they reflexively moved away from the weapon-yielding Nurse.

Focused entirely on injecting her, Barbara didn't even see it coming when Jax elbowed her hard in the face before the first milliliter was even gone.

Multiple feet pounded loud and fast against the lobby floor as four Charming PD officers rushed towards them pulling the deranged woman upright just as her knee hit the floor when Jax kicked the syringe out of her hand, unintentionally landing a blow to her chest that momentarily knocked the wind out of her.

_"Step back," _Deputy Hobart ordered as he moved to the other side helping secure Mrs. Harland while his partner handcuffed her. Barbara thrashed, twisted, and turned—Feet flying, landing one final, bone-crunching kick to Gemma's chest before she was dragged away, drowning out the Miranda rights being read to her with her screams.

Jax had only a brief moment to glare at the guards who should have prevented things from escalating before Gemma keeled forward, a crisp wheezing sound cut through the air as she fell tripped, falling sideways—one arm clutching her chest while her hand pressed agains the blood seeping into the sleeve of her shirt where she'd been stabbed in the shoulder.

"MOM!"

Two men in leather Kuttes—_SAMCRO _printed across one of their T-shirts—rushed through the crowd quickly forming around them.

"YOU ASSHOLES ARE GONNA PAY!" Barbara screeched as she was pulled towards the Main lobby's exit. She steeled her eyes on the two leather-clad men kneeling on the floor and the matriarch between them as she left. "I KNOW WHAT YOU DID! AND I KNOW WHO TOLD YOU TO DO IT! CLAY'S GONNA PAY FOR RUINING MY FAMILY...HE..._he ruined my family again..." _Her voice muddled more and more as angry sobs wracked through her body but her words were unmistakable as she cleared the lobby, walking backwards out into the lot towards the waiting police Sedan. She kept muttering the same words over and over. "..._Clay's gonna pay...Clay's gonna pay..."_

"Holy Shit!" Kozik hissed.

"What the Hell Happened?" Tig demanded as he kneeled to the floor, inadvertently knocking the guards hovering above her out of the way as he reached for her.

"I don't know," Jax stammered. "Mrs—_that crazy bitch—"_

"_Holy St. Redneck_," Duncan Kane exclaimed as he stood by the elevator taking in the scene before him. "Who the Hell named this town _Charming?_"

* * *

"I want to make sure I'm clear," Unser said, looking down at the legal pad in front of him. "You—"

"I told you what happened," the man interrupted, waving a hand towards the statement he'd scribbled onto the pad in between Chief Unser's elbows. "I told you _and _I wrote the shit down for you. What else you need? You want me to sign it with my blood? The guy was obviously off his meds or some shit. You saw the breathalyzer results. I wasn't even within the legal limit. _I wasn't drunk at all. _And it wasn't 'cause of exhaustion because I'd parked at a truck stop and got some sleep a couple hours before. I'm _telling you..._I blinked once and he wasn't sliding over into _my _lane….held his arms out like Jesus on the fuckin cross and closed his eyes….I swear that crazy fool was smiling when he did it, too. _He tried to kill himself, _okay? It wasn't an accident. That guy didn't wanna be here no more. He was headed towards the light and the poor asshole almost took me with him. I just feel sorry for his family. I heard he's got a wife and kid. A son….what is he like fift—"

Both men turned towards the interrogation room door as three sharp knocks wrapped against it—just before someone pushed the door open.

"_Sir," _Officer Katy Palmer said, "Quint just called. That brawl at St. Thomas? It was _Gemma Teller _and _Barbara Harland."_

"Jesus Christ," Unser hissed, sliding his chair back as he moved to stand up. "Is Barbara alright?"

Katy nodded, a wry smile spreading across her face. "That's the first thing _I_ asked," she admitted. "Barbara's in custody, she's in route to the station now. _Gemma's _the one who drew the short end of the stick this time. Said she sliced her arm…stabbed her with….a needle? She got stabbed with something. I'm not really clear on that part but I know she's got a few cracked ribs. They admitted her. I don't if she'll have to stay."

"_Shit."_

"You want me to call _Morrow_?" Katy offered.

Unser shook his head. "I'll handle it," he answered, waving towards the man still sitting at the table watching them closely. "Think you can wrap this up for me?"

"Consider it wrapped," the trucker declared, standing up. "I got a feeling this town ain't half as _Charming _as the name suggest. You got my statement. Either you believe it or you don't. I'm getting the Hell out of here...tonight."

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

**_Several hours later….._**

"A lot of your family in the hospital," Laura Michaelson commented awkwardly as she came to a stop in front of them. "I just spoke with Mrs. Teller. She approved visitation for Mr—"

"No _Mister," _Padraic corrected, snickering right along with Chibs as they took in the way her eyes flitted up and down his body, teeth biting into her lower lip as she ogled him. "It's Padraic, lovey."

"_Right_." Laura nodded. "She approved visitation for _Padraic…._you guys are free to go in now."

"Thanks, Darlin," Chibs said, joining his nephew in admiring her ass as she sashayed off, swinging her hips for all they were worth. "I bet you that one loves a good punch up her knickers."

"_Aye," _Padraic agreed, chuckling with his Uncle as they stepped inside the room.

It was a painful sight that squelched the laughter—killing it instantly as they took in the state of their founding President.

"_Jesus," _Padraic hissed as he studied the hard casting, all the tubes and cords.

"Doc says he's not as bad as it looks," Chibs offered, patting his shoulder as the young man took in the horror of JT's motorcycle accident. "It's bad….but….it could be worse. He could have—"

The writhing started first.

It was followed by the sharp choking sound emitting from his chest as the monitor at his bedside blared loudly—the machine tracking his vitals beeping faster the more he struggled, arm flailing, tangling up in all the cords, hopelessly reaching for the….was it _reaching?_

"AW, FUCK!"

Chibs ran towards him, pushing his arm down, holding his head back against the cushion of the pillows behind it as Padraic flung the hospital room door open yelling for help just as several pairs of footsteps pounded down the hallway—nurses and interns brushing past him, pouring into the room towards the shaking man laid out in the center of the room.

Padraic heard one of the interns yell, "_Somebody page, Dr. Altman!" _just as he and Chibs dipped out in the hallway, forgoing the elevator as they headed into the nearest stairwell, all but jumping down the steps as they made it towards the floor below.

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"So are you ready to tell me yet?" Tara prodded as she slapped the Queen of Hearts down on the table.

Opie studied the cards spread out in front of his eyes. "Tell you what?"

He was too busy studying his hand to see Tara rolling her eyes.

"What happened with you and Donna?" Tara asked. "Why'd you break up? I started to say why'd you break up _this _time but you guys have never broke up before. Not _really. _You usually fight and then when she's done flipping out you make up."

"We're good," Opie answered, adding to the pile of cards in between them. "Donna's just pissed. She'll get over it just like she always does. She's trying to teach me a lesson or some shit."

"A lesson for what?"

"Hell if I know." Opie shrugged. "You know she's crazy."

"Uh-huh."

Looking up at her finally, Opie could tell Tara didn't buy his feigned nonchalance for a second.

"So I guess you're _not _gonna tell me," Tara accused, narrowing her eyes. "It's cool. I'll just ask her."

"You want to talk about relationships?" Opie replied, sitting his cards face down on the table. "Let's talk about your mom and my dad."

Tara choked on the water she'd been sipping from Poland Spring bottle in her hand. "_What?"_

"How long do you think they were hooking up?"

"Where the Hell did this come from?" Tara questioned, her eyes widening.

Opie shrugged. "You can't say you never suspected it," he said. "You notice everything just like me."

Tara cleared her throat. "I think it's the fact that my dad always refers to my mom as _that biker whore _when he drinks that gave it away."

"How come you never said anything?"

"I didn't have to," Tara countered, scrunching her eyebrows. "And really, why would I want to talk about it? Won't change the fact that my Dad sees _her _when he looks at me and that's why he hates me."

"Arthur doesn't hate you."

"Seriously, Ope," Tara urged. "Where the Hell is all this coming from?"

"How old were you when you moved here?"

"Umm….like three, almost four maybe…" Tara grew more confused the longer it took him to respond. "_Why?"_

"It doesn't make sense," Opie mumbled to himself, staring at a spot behind her. "Doesn't add up….she's…you know what? Forget I said anything. _She's full of shit as usual."_

"Who's full of shit?" Tara wondered. When he didn't answer right away, Tara pursed her lips as she tried to draw her own conclusion based on everything he'd said thus far. The light bulb went off in her head just as her hospital room door opened. "Wait a minute. Are you trying—do you think—_Opie—_"

_"I figured you'd be here," _Piney commented, walking towards them. "I bet you didn't take your ass back to school like I told you either…._Hey, sweetheart. _How's the wonder drugs treating you today?"

"I'm hoping they'll give some to take home," Tara joked, smiling up at him. "_Tonight. _I was supposed to go home tomorrow but I might get lucky."

"Well just in case…" Piney sat the two bags in his hand in the chair next to her bed. "I figured you were sick of hospital food."

"Oh wow." Tara turned to grin at the sixteen-year old boy sitting at the edge of her bed. "See…this is why I love _your _father."

Opie didn't miss the emphasis at all.

And Tara didn't miss the look of uncertainty that crossed his features when he picked up on her subliminal answer to his….

Well…..his _theory._

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"What does this mean?" Duncan repeated a third time when she didn't respond.

Sliding her pants back over her hips, Diane pulled the drawstrings tight, tying the ends into a loop before adjusting the disheveled state of her scrub top—quickly raking a hand through her hair, scanning the Supply closet floor for the clip that had held it in place.

"It doesn't mean anything," Diane answered, bending over to pick up the discovered clip, pinning her long hair up at the crown of her head. "This was goodbye Duncan."

Duncan smirked. "Well it's a lot better than the _post-it _goodbye but I still don't accept it."

"You don't have a choice."

"Dee, listen to me—"

"I'm gonna walk out first," Diane explained, talking over him. "Wait like five minutes, Okay? Unless you want me written up my first week."

Turning her back to him, Diane pushed the door open—stepping right into a hallway high traffic zone.

The second she cleared the closet door, Diane was knocked down, her shoulder banging into the wall as a swarm of footsteps and the squeaking of wheels scraped against the floor.

Rubbing her arm, Diane's head snapped towards the three familiar figures flying down the hallway like they were racing at a track meet.

Jax was in the lead as he burst through the double doors at the other end of the hallway.

Chibs was a close second, stopping only long enough to hold the doors open, allowing the woman struggling to keep up with them through.

Gemma held the backs of her hospital gown shut behind her, barely covering her ass or the lacy black panties covering it while her other hand gripped the IV-pole, rolling it—and the IV bags hanging from it along with her as they disappeared behind the flapping doors.

"_What the fuck?"_

"Baby you alright?" Duncan asked, slipping out of the closet unbeknownst to the two of them.

"_Diane?" _

Diane looked up, her light eyes widening at the man standing over her with an equally shocked expression frozen on his face.

"_Padraic?"_

"_Padraic,_" Duncan echoed, eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them. Realization dawned him, the familiarity of the name surging through his brain a Hell of a lot faster than his recollection of _SAMCRO _or the woman arguing in the elevator with her teenaged son. "_Padraic? _Oh you've gotta be kidding me."

_Dit-_fuckin-_O, _Diane thought as she stared at the two men holding their hands out to help her up.

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

Kyle didn't even wait for him to finish walking down the steps before he pounced on him.

"How did it go?" he asked.

"_It went," _the man answered, walking past him towards the vending machines.

"What do you mean—"

Spinning around to face him, Donald Levin glared at the nineteen year old standing in front of him. "It went like you wanted it to. I stuck to the script. Your Chief got it on record. _Suicide. _Where's the rest of my money?"

Pulling the envelope from his back pocket, Kyle held it out in front of him.

"You leaving tonight?"

"Why?" Donald barked. "You need me to lie for you again?"

"They might need to call you in for a follow up," Kyle lied.

The bored trucker snorted. "Well they'll be shit out of luck if that's the case. _You too, _Kid. I'm on my way out as soon as I get a nap in. Nice doing business with you. Good luck with whatever bullshit scam you're running. Hope this whole power play works in your favor…._you hoodlum types kill me…."_

Turning his back to him, Donald Levin had no idea just how true his parting words were as Kyle watched him disappear behind the closed door of room two-zero-seven.

Kyle made his way across the parking lot, hopping into the pickup parked in front of the mini-mart on the other side of the road. Twisting the keys into the ignition, he turned the nozzle until he found a station playing a song he liked.

But he never pulled off.

No, instead he waited.

He'd keep waiting until Donald's nap was over and he was on his way, driving passed the sign that had welcomed him to the small town _where the name says it all. _

Kyle's fingers twitched as he periodically glanced towards the dashboard—the compartment on the front passenger side, chewing his bottom lip as he thought about the gun he'd placed inside of it earlier that day.

_"No loose ends," _Clay had told him.

He'd make sure there weren't any.

He could do this.

_No loose ends._

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

The board was already set up.

They were just picking out the first set of letters they'd use to form words when he walked in.

Tara looked up, the corners of her mouth threatening to tear as a wide smile spread across her face.

"Hey _you," _she said, beaming at him.

"You're just in time, Son," Piney said, nodding up at Jax. "We're just about to start. Grab a rack. Come prove to Tara hear that you're not as stupid as she probably thinks you are."

"Guess what?" Tara gushed. "Diane might be springing me _tonight _instead of tomorrow!"

"How's your mom doing?" Piney asked.

Tara's eyebrows threaded together as she turned towards the man arranging the letters on his Scrabble rack. "Something happened to Gemma?"

Opie picked up on it first.

"What's wrong, Bro?"

Tara's head immediately snapped towards him. Studying his expression closely, she was sliding off the bed—scattering the board and wooden pieces across the table and bed when her knee banged against the underside in her hast to get up.

Tara rushed towards him, beating Opie and Piney to where he stood.

She pressed her palm to his face just in time to catch the first teardrop that fell from his eyes, spreading along the gap in between her thumb and fingers.

"_What can I do?_" Tara asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jax's response was to pull her into a hug.

Tara ignored the pain shooting through her shoulder as she squeezed him even tighter, kissing his cheek—holding onto him, pouring all the love and support she thought he needed to get through whatever it was.

Only Opie and his father knew that the tears slowly streaming down his face didn't stem from pain—it wasn't from a place of anguish or regret.

The measured smile gradually upturning the corners of his mouth said more than any word he uttered could have had Jax even bothered to speak.

It wasn't grief—he wasn't in mourning.

He was relieved—_minutely _so, but still relieved all the same.

And it wasn't until she heard—not until she _felt_ the battle between crying and laughter rumbling through his chest that Tara pulled back to look at him.

"_Jax?"_

Once again taking _verbal _communication out of the equation, Jax crushed his lips against hers—crying, laughing, and kissing her all at once.

And even though she had no idea why or if she even should, Tara joined in with him. Her nervous laughter blending in with his just as the moisture pooling in her eyes made its way down her face, mixing with his on every tilt of their heads from left to right while Winston Senior _and _Junior shook their heads at them.

"You got any idea what the Hell is going?"

Opie shook his head, smirking at his father's wary expression. "_Not a goddamn clue_."

* * *

**Okey Dokey.**

Just a quick FYI.

I know y'all are missing **J&amp;T **Exclusive action but we're racing towards the end of this arc and the next arc is **all about them **and theirs at least **three **back to back Jax/Tara exclusive **POV **chapters coming up (a la **CH51**) so bear with me.

Mean while...

Thoughts? Feedback? Favorite moments? Standout lines, scenes, etc?

[**8,800 **words]

**|REVIEW|**


	62. Chapter 55

**A/N: **Who's ready for some High school anarchy? _Bring on the nostalgia._

**-Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

"Did they kick in yet?" Jax asked, turning towards the front passenger side of the car.

"Eyes on the road," Gemma scolded, smirking. She reached for his hand, lacing it with hers as they rode through the last few blocks leading to their house.

"You may not know it," Jax admitted, smiling, "But I've been sneaking your car out since I was like twelve."

"Even if I didn't notice the car keys missing, I could always tell."

Jax twisted his mouth up to one side. "You trying to say I dented up your ride? I never even got a scratch on it."

"You _didn't_," Gemma agreed. "I just knew the bra and panties I always found in the backseat weren't mine."

Jax chuckled as he pulled into their driveway. Shutting the car off, he quickly hopped out, walking around to the other side to open her door for her. Wrapping his arm around her, he took her suitcase-sized purse from her, sliding it up his shoulder as they walked towards the house.

He knew she didn't really need his help.

She was hauling ass through the hospital hallway _with _him when Chibs and Padraic had shown up.

But he also knew how to butter her up—and when it needed to be done.

"Doc' says not to drive as long as you're taking those pills," Jax commented, as they headed towards the master bedroom.

Gemma stopped short, ignoring the pain shooting through her chest when she turned towards her son, hand on her hip as she narrowed her eyes. "You think you're gonna be riding around in my car don't you?"

"Come on, Ma," Jax whined, all but batting his eyelashes. "You really gonna make me _walk _to Opie's house? To school? You know I never get up on time. I don't want to be late. _I value my education."_

Gemma laughed. "You're so full of shit."

* * *

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Lowell Harland Sr. sat at the edge of his bed, thumping his foot against the railing underneath it while he waited.

Looking up at the sound of the hospital room door opening, he somehow managed to return the wary smile the entering physician cast in his direction as he made his way towards him—clip board full of papers in his hand.

"Good Morning," Dr. McNamara said, stopping to slide the chair at his bedside towards the edge where he sat before joining him. "I just heard the bad news..._Is it the facility?"_

Lowell blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Our plan was for you to head straight to rehab as soon as you were discharged," the concerned doctor recapped. "I was wondering if maybe you weren't happy with the reading material I gave you on the facility and that was why you were no longer going. It's actually one of the few rehabilitation centers that's covered under your insurance plan. You want to tell me what's going on?"

"My family needs me right now," Lowell said. "I can't afford to be away—"

"You can't afford to _not _to be," Dr. McNamara interrupted. "I'm gonna be candid with you Lowell. _Sixteen. _That's how many years of sobriety you just ruined. You have a boy my age...we'll do anything for our children. That's why I don't even have to ask. I know he's part of the reason you got clean the first time around."

"_I love my son," _Lowell declared, staring down at the floor, blinking away the angry tears he didn't want to fall. "I'd do anything for him."

"I know." The doctor stood up, placing a hand on his shoulder. "But rehab is something you need to do for _you. _You need to reconsider entering the program like we discussed. It's _your _sobriety at risk. _Your _future. You need to want this for yourself. Once you do, I _promise _your family with reap the benefits as well. I have no doubt that your family needs you Lowell. But they need you _whole. _They need you better….stronger than ever. One slip up can very easily turn into a lifetime of them. You learned that sixteen years ago. I know you think you can beat in on your own. And maybe you can, but why risk it? All the extra help and support you need is available. It would be foolish not to take advantage of it."

"I know what I have to do," Lowell responded. Looking up at him, there was fierceness in his eyes that the Doctor couldn't understand—couldn't quite decipher as he added, "_And I'm damn sure gonna do it."_

After a brief moment of silence, Dr. McNamara finally gave up on trying to decode the resolution in his eyes. Holding the clipboard out to him, he pulled a pen from the breast pocket of his lab coat, clicking it open.

"_Discharge papers_," he explained. "Sign them, bring them by the office for my assistant to process and you're free to go. I also had her print out some information on additional rehab facilities in the area. Most of them have fairly decent payment plans. _Please _reconsider, Lowell. I know I said it's your life….but when you have kids…a wife….a _family _that depends on you…."

"I know," Lowell replied, quickly scrawling his signature along the pages without even reading them. "Thanks, Doc."

* * *

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Gemma blinked her eyes against the light seeping in through the half-drawn curtains hanging in front of her bedroom windows. Looking down at her left leg, the source of the numbness was apparent as she smiled down at the sleeping, blonde-haired boy resting his head against it. Raking a hand through his hair, she gently shook him awake.

"Jackson," Gemma whispered. "Wake up, baby. You're gonna hurt your neck like that."

Jax slowly sat up, twisting his neck from left to right as he raised his arms above his head, stretching them. "You feel a little better?" he asked in between yawning.

"I'm fine," his mother answered. When he finally met her eyes she smiled, nodding towards the clock at her bedside. Jax turned towards the nightstand to the left of the chair he'd fallen asleep in the night before. "You need to get ready for school."

Jax returned her smile—more than a little mischief laced within his own as he commented, "It's almost five-thirty now and I didn't even take my shower. There's no way I'm making it on time _walking."_

Gemma rolled his eyes. "You're not the only one that can't wait until you get your bike," she said, wincing as she leaned over towards the purse rested against the pillow on the other side of the bed. "You crash my car I'll kill you before you can make that permit you got official."

"I promise not to drag race," Jax said, smirking. "That's the best I can do, Mom."

Holding the keys out to him, she held on tight—not yet releasing them as she narrowed her eyes at him. "Should I even waste my time telling you to keep that girl out of my car?"

"Are you gonna tell me why Lowell's mom tried to turn you into a Meth head?"

He knew she wouldn't tell him the truth. That's why he had every intention of finding out on his own first chance he got.

Gemma sat up in the bed. "I already told you—"

"_Right._" Jax stood up from the chair, leaning over towards her. He tugged the keys out of her grip, kissing her cheek at the same time. "Tara won't be _anywhere _near your car," Jax said, shoving them in his back pocket before she could grab them back. "Love you, Ma."

"You would think you'd be better at lying as often as you try it," Gemma commented.

_Right back at ya._

Jax quickly pressed his lips to her other cheek before making a mad dash out into the hallway—pulling the door shut behind him before she could change her mind about letting him drive her car to school or say something about Tara that would make him want to run her ass over with it.

* * *

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Neon red blinked on and off in the darkness of the bedroom—the loud, abrupt blare of the alarm clock next to the bed eliciting a low groan from Diane as she rolled over.

"_Duncan." _Whispering his name did nothing so she moved straight to plan B. Sitting up, she yanked the pillow behind her back, hitting him over the head with it. "Get up."

"Good M—"

"_Shhhh!" _Diane tossed the pillow at his face as she slid off the bed, quickly shrugging her robe on, tying it shut. Tip-toeing to his side of the bed, she picked up his shoes, his pants, shirt and Jacket, bunching up everything he came with in her arms—dropping it on his lap as he slowly sat up. "It's five-thirty. You were supposed to be gone already!"

Duncan rubbed his eyes. "Can I at least get coffee?"

"There's a Diner a couple blocks from here," Diane hissed, pointing towards the door. "Hurry up before Tara and—"

"Her boyfriend?" Duncan wondered, taking his sweet time as he threw the Duvet off his legs, rising to stand.

Diane shook her head. "He's not her boyfriend."

"So she just let's random guys sleep over and you're cool with that?"

"I'm not her mother," Diane snapped. "And no she _doesn't. _He's one of her friends from—_oh you know what? _It's none of your business. Just hurry the Hell up!"

"What's the big deal? She already knows about us doesn't she?" Duncan prodded, fastening the buttons of his shirt. When Diane didn't respond, he looked up—eyes zeroing on her left hand. "_Where's your ring?"_

"Duncan—"

"Wait a minute, Does she even know you're married?" Duncan's eyes widened. "Does your _brother?_"

Diane slapped a hand to her forehead, sliding it down to cover her face. "I knew this shit was a bad idea."

"It was," Duncan agreed, quickly stepping into his pants. "But not on _your _part. This is how we started, Dee. You don't remember? _I _do. You call and I come running. Then when you've had your fun you kick me out like I'm some asshole you picked up at a bar. And I put up with it then because I knew what you'd been through. So I waited…" Duncan moved even faster, buckling his belt, making quick work of his cuff-links—hastily tossing on his jacket before finally looking up to meet her eyes. "_I'm not doing this again."_

"No one's asking you to," Diane muttered, crossing her arms. "You didn't have to come."

Walking towards her, brought both his hands up to her face—the chill of the Gold wedding band on his left ring finger lightly pressing against her cheek as he kissed her.

He pulled away first.

"I love you_," _Duncan said, still cupping her face. "And you have _every _right to be pissed at me right now but we can get through this if we try. I want to try, Dee. But you have to want it to and if you do, let me know. _You gotta talk to me. _When you're ready to do that I'll be there. Until then…..this can't be like before, Diane. I'm not gonna be your _timeout. _You're gonna have to find another distraction."

"And what if I _do?" _Diane challenged.

Duncan shrugged, pressing his lips to her once more before walking past her. _"Then I'll know it's really over." _

Turning the knob, Duncan and Diane both flinched in surprise as soon as he opened the door.

Standing in the doorway—her hair a wild, dirty-blonde tumbleweed was Wendy Case. Holding an empty box in her hand, she yawned into her other one as she stared at the red-head cringing in the middle of the bedroom.

"You're all out of filters," Wendy said, nodding her head towards the man leaning against the door. "Any chance _Mr. Moneybags _here can drive that eighty-thousand dollar car of his to the store and get some? Coffee's the only thing that keeps me from pounding my music teacher's face into her piano and choking my asshole guidance counselor to death for giving me _Chorus _first period."

_"Where'd you go with the coffee filters?" _Lowell Junior yelled from the kitchen.

"I feel like I'm living in a college Dorm," Diane complained, rolling her eyes.

"There's no more!" Wendy yelled back. "Diane's boyfriend is going to the store to get some!"

_"_Diane's _boyfriend?" _Tara said, suddenly appearing from the other end of the hallway. Curious green eyes immediately flew up to study the face of the man smiling in amusement at the horrified expression on Diane's face.

"_Husband _actually," Duncan corrected, holding his hand out to her. "You must be Tara. How's your arm?"

Both of her arms were fine—right where they were, by her side. Tara saw no need in lifting either one to shake the hand of the man her aunt was glaring at.

"You _Sarah?_" Diane questioned, looking at Wendy.

_You look a lot different from what I remember._

_Didn't you have gray eyes?_

"No," Tara corrected, shaking her head. "This is my…umm…"

"Wendy," the smirking Blonde declared.

"Sorry," Tara said, mock-wincing. "You were already sleep when she came over. She's been crashing at Lowell's but since his mom….well _you know…_and so I told her she could crash here, too."

"I usually crash with Jax," Wendy commented dryly. "But something tells me that's no longer option….even when he _is _home."

"It's _not," _Tara confirmed, glaring at her. "Unless you want to crash at the ER a few nights, too."

Wendy threw her hands up. "It's too early for me to spar with you. I need c_affeine."_

"How about I make a stop at that diner," Duncan volunteered, grinning sheepishly at the young woman who looked like she wanted to kill him for not sneaking out at three, earlier that morning when she told him to (instead of showing her why she didn't want that.) "I can get breakfast for everyone. What time do you guys have to be in school?"

"Who's getting breakfast?" Lowell asked, finally joining the party. Jutting his thumb in Duncan's direction, he mouthed to Wendy, "_Who's he?"_

Tara blinked. "I'm sorry, Did you say you were her _husband?"_

"_Jesus Christ_," Diane grumbled, massaging her temple with the hand she held to her face.

_Fuck coffee._

_I need _liquor.

* * *

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Deputy Katy Palmer looked up at the sound of footsteps approaching her desk.

"Hey, Barbara." Katy's smile was one of sympathy as she slid the paperwork she'd be working on over to her. "Your bails been paid in full already. You just have to sign a few things and you're free to go home. If you need a ride I can ask one of the—"

"I'll be fine," Barbara interrupted. "I appreciate the offer though. _Who posted my bail?"_

Katy flipped through the papers on her desk. "It says here, your husband did."

Barbara nodded briefly, absently scribbling her signature across every dotted line necessary before shrugging her purse back up her shoulder, stepping out into the cool air of early morning.

Clay was leaning against the bricks lining the top steps of the Police station, smoking a cigar as he waited for her.

"You must be real tight with Unser," Barbara sneered. "That crooked son of a bitch has you thinking you can gun me down on the front steps of the station and get away with it."

"If I wanted to kill ya, we wouldn't be talking right now," Clay said, following behind her as she made her way down the steps.

"I'm not afraid of you."

Clay chuckled. "I don't doubt that," he admitted. "From what I hear you've got some friends in high places yourself. Friends that you're probably thinking about reaching out to."

Barbara spun around. "Oh really? Is _that _what you heard?"

"Be smart, Barb," Clay advised. "Charming is your home. It's _our _home. The people in this town? We work through shit and we handle it amongst ourselves. We don't bringing outsiders into the mix. It creates chaos. It's not _safe."_

"You threatening me?"

Clay shook his head, smiling. "You and Lowell are like family to the MC," he said. "Lowell's not just the best damn mechanic I know. He's my _brother. _And he's going through some shit….his mind's all….he's…he's not thinking clearly. And yesterday you weren't either. Gemma understands that. That's why she won't be pressing charges. That's why I posted your bail and I've made sure they'll be no witness to testify to what happened. _We're family. _We don't let outsiders handle our problems. You got something you want to ask me? I'm all ears, Darlin. Just don't go pointing fingers without knowing all the facts. Especially when the person who's word you have to go off of is some _Junkie—"_

Barbara slapped the Cigar right out of his hand, her palm grazing his mouth in the same motion. "Fuck you."

Clay stepped closer to her, nostrils flaring. "I'm trying to make peace with you, bitch. I don't have to play nice, you know. After the shit you pulled at the hospital, you'd be wearing an orange jumpsuit, on trial for attempted murder—"

"Oh please," Barbara cut in, smirking. "I'd never see the inside of a jail cell and you know it. Not with all the shit I've got on you and your club. I don't think the statute of limitations is up on the shit storm you caused a few years back. And you want to know something? I hear_ Diane Knowles_ is back in town."

"That's supposed to mean something to me?"

"_I know what happened to her." _Barbara stepped on the tips of his boots as she moved closer, lowering her voice to a hiss. "She might not have been strong enough to speak up then but I don't know Clay….I have a feeling she'd be happy for a chance to stick it to you _and _Gemma after what she went through. It was your fault just like everything else in this town. And for every person you threaten, every person whose silence you buy….there's at least two others that are sick of your _shit_."

"Witness protection ain't all it's cracked up to be," Clay threatened. "And around here the only _stitches _rats get are the ones sewn in after the autopsy. You sure you wanna go that route?"

"I don't have to involve the authorities," Barbara said. "The Feds are the least of your problems. If I were you I'd be more concerned with losing your club….with JT finding out about all the shit you've been doing behind his back…..all those side deals and back alley meetings…all your big plans for _his _club."

"What are you living under a rock?" Clay chuckled. "John's half way to his grave."

Barbara shook her head, smiling. "That's not what I hear."

Clay's eyebrows threaded together. "The fuck you talking 'bout?"

Barbara laughed, brushing past him as the car pulled a stop at the curb behind him. Pulling the door to the Taxi opened, she cast a final glance in his direction before sliding inside. "You should ride over to St. Thomas and say Hi. Tell JT how happy you are to have your _President _back."

* * *

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Jax pulled the stick shift into park—blue eyes widening as he looked towards Tara's front yard.

Wendy was sitting in Lowell's lap, rolling a blunt while Opie sat next to them, staring down at the ground, gnawing at his bottom lip—a telltale sign that he was in deep thought about something.

All three of them looked up at the sound of the car door closing.

Opie was the only one who didn't smile as he swaggered up the walkway towards them.

"Hey, Jax," Lowell said.

Wendy smirked at the expression on Jax's face as he observed the way Lowell's grip around her waist tightened when his blue eyes fell on their embrace.

Shrugging her shoulders, Wendy smirked, nodding up at him. "Tara told me what happened with your Dad. I told you JT's a tough SOB."

"I'm happy for you, Jax," Lowell said.

Jax smiled. "He's still not out of the woods," he responded.

Jax had been happy when he first heard the news. It was the first time his father's doctor had given an update that didn't make him feel like he was drowning. But it seemed like the more positive everyone around him was, the more tense he became. He couldn't stop looking up towards the sky, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

JT was breathing on his own.

His vitals were improving more and more as the hours passed.

He was Dr. Altman's new _miracle _patient.

But he wasn't sitting up talking to everyone that had spent the past days—almost a week worrying about him. And there was no way of knowing if he would ever talk to them again.

He still wasn't awake.

Not really.

_"We just have to be patient," _Dr. Altman told them. "_We'll know more when he wakes up…._if _he wakes up. I'm not saying that to scare you or to deter you but you have to understand…."_

"Jax?"

Jax's eyes shifted from the spot above Wendy's head. "Huh?"

"Your mom letting you ride around in her car now?" Wendy repeated, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"You giving Tara a ride to school?" Opie questioned, standing up.

"That was the plan," Jax answered, eyeing his best friend. "You can ride with us, too if you want. We can even swing by and get Donna. Tara's got shot gun though. You and Tinkerbell are riding in the backseat."

Opie scowled. "Tell Tara I'll see her later," he muttered to no one in particular.

Then he walked towards his father's truck without another word—driving off.

"What the Hell is going on with you two?" Wendy wondered out loud. "I swear it's like y'all are doing the same dance him and Donna—_who by the way, _broke up with him a couple days ago—you're doing the same—"

"Him and Donna broke up?" Jax scrunched his eyesbrows together in confusion. "Sarah's _gone. _What the Hell they got to fight about now?"

"You're his best friend," Wendy accused, lighting the freshly rolled blunt in her hand. "Or at least you _used _to be. Shouldn't you be the one giving us the four-one-one on Romeo and Juliet?"

"Why are you calling them that?" Lowell questioned, shaking his head when she offered him the blunt. "You know they die at the end right?"

Wendy turned, offering the weed to Jax, who happily accepted it.

Jax took a long pull of the blunt, blowing the smoke out through his nose as he thought about what was going with Opie.

Donna was a no-brainer.

He'd be willing to bet good money that they would be back together by the end of next week.

The big mystery was what was going between _them._

Sure_, _they'd fought over Sarah.

And yes, he'd said some shit he probably shouldn't have but then he'd thought he lost Tara and Opie was right there to get him through it—to let him know he would always be there no matter what.

And he was there with him again, when he'd first heard the news about his dad.

Opie was there when he needed him—but _only _when he need him.

Jax had a funny feeling that if his dad wasn't in the hospital, or if Tara hadn't gotten hurt and if that stupid nurse hadn't damn near scared him to death—Jax couldn't shake the notion that if he hadn't _needed _his best friend, Opie would have….well they'd probably still be rolling around on the floor fighting like they'd been in the hallway outside JT's hospital room.

Something was going on.

And without having even the slightest clue, Jax knew that whatever it was, it had nothing to do with Tara _or _Sarah.

"Get up," Lowell instructed, nudging against Wendy's thighs with his knees. "I have driver's ED this morning. You're gonna give me a contact high or something."

Wendy giggled. "There's no such thing."

"I'll be right back," Lowell said, pulling the front door open to walk into the house.

Jax sat down on the step beside Wendy—amusement upturning the corners of his mouth. Wendy held the blunt out to him. When Jax shook his head, flashing the keys in his hand, she laughed.

"I guess Tara wouldn't approve," she teased.

Jax rolled his eyes. "You've been annoying the Hell out of me over her for—"

"_Years," _Wendy interjected. "And you finally pulled your head out of your ass. Good for you. That doesn't mean—"

"So you and Lowell? _Really_?" Jax snickered. "Where the Hell did that come from?"

Wendy shrugged. "He's _sweet," _she admitted. "But not in a way that makes me roll my eyes every five minutes…..like I do when you and Tara are in the same room. Plus given what's going on with his folks I'd say he's well on his way to being just as screwed up as I am. And you know what they say about misery and company."

"Bullshit." Jax bumped his shoulder against hers. "You like him. I can tell. I don't blame you either. Lowell's….well he's right up your alley. LJ's got my vote. I just hope he doesn't feel threatened by me."

Wendy cocked an eyebrow at him. "Why would he feel threatened by _you? _Wrong girl, asshole. I'm not part of your fan club."

"You're gonna miss me," Jax goaded, chuckling. "Especially after you sleep with him…..unless he's already let you into his panties."

"Tara must be letting you into hers," Wendy commented. "You're way too damn happy. And for your information, Lowell's already one-upped you in the sex department."

Jax laughed even harder. "Say that again, but with a straight face this time."

"I'm serious."

_YEAH RIGHT!_

Jax rolled his eyes. "Just make sure when you're thinking about me you don't slip and say my name out loud. That tends to piss girls off."

Wendy smirked. "Yeah," she agreed. "Ima told me about that. Maize went crying to her about it in the bathroom when y'all both got suspended. I don't know what's wrong with that girl. If a guy called me someone else's name while I was giving him head _and_ I got suspended on top of it I'd Lorena Bobbitt his ass. Not keep chasing after him. And while we're on the subject. You want to know the difference between you and _Junior?_"

Wendy laughed when Jax made a show of moving closer to her, cupping a hand around his ear as he leaned towards her.

_"He's not afraid of eating—"_

Jax pulled back, shaking his head. "I'm not afraid of shit."

_If you only knew…_.

Jax was still praying to the powers that be that Tara would wear a skirt today. He had another _first _in mind for them.

"You know what? You're right," Wendy agreed, rolling her eyes. "You're not afraid. You're just _selfish. _Poor, Tara. I hope David—"

"Don't even go there," Jax snapped, narrowing his eyes at the amused expression on her face before turning his glare towards the front door. "What the Hell is Tara doing anyway?"

Wendy shrugged. "Maybe she's letting Lowell kiss her neck again," she teased. "I heard they had fun at Sarah's party. Ima couldn't wait to dish on what a _two-timing slut _Tara is."

"You need to tell that bitch Ima to stop running her fuckin mouth," Jax warned. "I already told her about that shit."

Wendy giggled. "I hate to break it to you Darlin but the only time you have control over her mouth is when you're putting it to use. Seeing as you won't be doing that anymore you're gonna have to navigate through all the rumors and cross your fingers they don't send your _track star _running in the opposite direction. I'd tell you to take a page out of Opie's book but it looks like your best friend's lost his touch."

"_What rumors?" _Jax barked. "What the Hell are you—"

Wendy let out a low whistle. "I really don't think you want to hear all the shit people been saying about your girl….wait she _is _your girl right? You two love to dance around the whole ti—"

"_Wendy!"_

Wendy held her hands up. "Fine." She briefly looked towards the front door before sighing heavily. "Don't say I didn't warn you though."

"Just spit out."

"Are you gonna tell Tara?"

"Damn it, Wendy—"

"Everyone knows about the accident," Wendy told him. "They also know Sarah left. But it's the _How _and the _Why _that's….look, don't kill the messenger—"

"_Wendy"_

"If looks could kill I'd be dead right now—"

"WENDY!"

"_Tara and Sarah were getting high with you_," Wendy blurted out, talking faster the more she spoke. "Apparently you guys were snorting coke and knocking back shots….and you were having a threesome….and _Tara _got jealous because you were paying Sarah more attention so she stormed out. You and Sarah went after her but she'd already crashed into the telephone pole at the end of your block. Sarah's folks found out that she was letting her old friends get her into bad habits so they sent her back to boarding school…."

Jax steeled his jaw—both fist clenching and unclenching, his nostrils flaring. "I'm listening."

"Huh?"

"You said _rumors," _Jax grunted out. "What else is Ima—"

"It's not just Ima," Wendy corrected, defending her friend. "It's—"

"_I don't give a shit who it is! _I want to know what—"

"Tara's the new _Sarah," _Wendy said bluntly. "Her best friend came back looking to take her crown back but it turns out Nerdvana's not as innocent as she wants everyone to think she is. Last year she slept with _Pierce Reynolds. _Pierce was Mr. Shin's monitor and Tara was fuckin him so he would give her the answers to all the exams for his AP Statistics class and that's the _real _reason her final grade was 100. Then she dumped him over the summer to hook up with David—Charming High's _star Quarterback. _Then when David fell in love with her she fucked him over. She broke his heart. And all this time she's never even claimed him publicly because she didn't want her college boyfriend _Kyle Tanner _to find out she was cheating on him with his best friend's younger brother. Sarah ratted her out to Jake and he told Kyle and he dumped her so she showed up to Sarah's party with Lowell because she knew Sarah always had a secret crush on him. I guess Kyle wasn't really over her 'cause he got pissed when he saw Tara about to hook up with LJ in the middle of the dance floor. That's why he grabbed her. She flipped on him but then later he followed her upstairs and she gave him head in David's bathroom. David walked in...flipped out on Kyle, they started fighting. Jake saw his brother getting his ass kicked and tried to break it up. Then Tara lied and told Opie that Kyle tried to force himself on her and Opie fucked him up. I guess you and Maize were having sex in Sarah's room but no one knew because y'all locked the door but when you overheard them fighting you joined in and jumped in to help your friend no questions asked. Then Tara threatened to press false charges for sexual harassment against Kyle and ruin his football career if he went after you and Opie. And now that Sarah's gone she thinks she has you all to herself…..There's a poll on how long you'll stick around before you get bored with her. Natalie got fired from the school newspaper for printing it. All the Varsity teams and cheerleaders are even placing bets on how long you'll last. Principal Mason's been trying to get someone to talk but David and Pierce are the only jocks that want nothing to do with it and I doubt they're gonna rat on their teammates."

"_Is there a rumor about me hooking up with Opie, too?"_

Jax and Wendy both jerked their heads towards the top of the steps where Tara stood.

Jax walked up towards her. "_Babe—"_

Tara shut her eyes, holding her hand out in front of his face. "I'm talking to Wendy."

"Nothing so far," Wendy answered honestly. "There was one other thing though—"

"She doesn't need to hear this," Jax cut in. "It's a bunch of bull—"

"_Wendy?_"

Wendy looked at Jax as she answered. "You ever hook up with that boy _Leon_-something? He's always walking you to class….I think you have chemistry with him. There's a rumor you jerked him off in the library when y'all were studying for your AP Psych final last Spring. You were the first action he's seen and he's been following you around like a lost puppy since hoping you'll throw him another bone evenutally. I _know _all that other stuff is bullshit but—"

"ALL OF IT IS!" Jax growled.

"But what?" Tara questioned—her hand flying to her hips a lot like someone else Jax knew.

Once again, Wendy's eyes found Jax's—an apology that only pissed him off even more swirling in the browns of her dark eyes. "Leon or Leo—"

"His name is _Leonard," _Tara hissed.

"Leonard seems to be going along with it," Wendy said, shrugging. "I heard David got detention for punching him in the face when he overheard him bragging about it being true to his friend in the locker room after gym. Even if people didn't believe it before….your ex brawling with him? That pretty much confirmed it."

_Four-eyes is dead as soon as I see him._

* * *

**_Ready for Jax &amp; Tara's first day back at school as a couple? (Someone may or not get punched. Also someone may or may not drop the 'F' bomb over the loud speaker)_**

**_Ready for more boot-licking from Kyle? (Marked graves are _**_such **a lovely conversation starter, don't you think?)**_

_**Why is Gemma on her knees? (It ain't cuz she's praying, Chile.)**_

_**Don't you think it's about time the **FEDS **took a trip to Charming to stir shit up?**_

_Do you know what reading thorough, **engaging **reviews does to me?_

_*Pharell voice* It makes me **HAP-PY =)**_

You guessed it folks.

This is yet another chapter I had to chop in half because it was wayyyyyy too long.

I'll edit the second half and post after I get some feedback from this one.

**|REVIEW|**

***Talk to me, Y'all!* **


	63. Chapter 56

**A/N: **Loved all the **reviews **SO much. Editing this a little earlier than I intended is my way of saying **THANK YOU **for the engaging feedback. It's always nice to know what parts you like &amp; your overall thoughts when I need something to spark a new idea for the next chapter.

_**Hope you enjoy it.** _Writing it had me flashing back to my HS years. _Teenagers._

**FYI: **Those that are a little confused on what's going on with Opie, I invite you to check out my prequel **"BEST POLICY" **if you haven't already. I plan on posting **CH2 **soon. It's a **8 **chapter mini-story so you'll have all the answers soon enough. Just gotta finish it lol

**P.S: **I'm glad you guys are enjoying Diane so much. Duncan, too. Especially since he's the segue into a semi-**crossover **I want to do later with my other favorite show **Veronica Mars. **I wasn't even going to include her in this chapter but I found a way to forward the plot &amp; give her some screen time since you like her.

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

"Have a good day, M'am," the cab driver said as she handed him the twenty dollar bill in her hand.

"_Keep it," _Barbara ordered, holding her hand up as he began counting out her change.

_I need all the good karma I can get, _she thought as the taxi drove off from the curb in front of her house.

It was a strange sight, Lowell's truck not being parked in the driveway.

He was always home when she got in from the night shift. Her smile was bittersweet as she thought of all the countless times she'd arrived home to a table covered with breakfast—pancakes, bacon, and eggs. Her two favorite men joking and splashing each other with water while they washed the dishes. Lowell Junior kissing her on the cheek after sloshing the last of his orange juice. Her husband tilting her head back, kissing her just long enough to make their son groan in disgust before they both headed out—Senior dropping Junior off at school before heading into work at _Teller-Morrow._

He always kept his promise to call around four to make sure she was up in time to cook so they would have a chance to eat an early dinner together before she had to go back into work when they finally got home.

They'd had a wonderful life.

She'd had a wonderful family.

And now it was all ruined.

Could it even be fixed?

Her answer was staring her in the face with wide eyes as she pushed the door to her bedroom open.

"OH!" Barbara shrieked, jumping backwards, tripping over her feet—falling to the hallway floor as Lowell came to his senses, placing the gun he'd pointed at her on the bed before running towards her. "_Lowell! _What the Hell are you doing with a—"

"I got it fr yoou," Lowell explained, helping her to her feet. "I hope you remember everything your brother taught you—"

"Lowell!"

"—I want you to show LJ how to use it as well. I bought one for him, too—"

"LOWELL!"

"—I want you to keep one in the drawer next to your bed. _Junior, too_. And there's also one in the kitchen—"

Barbara gave up on using her words. Drawing her hand back she slapped him hard across his face. "_What the Hell is wrong with you? _You spend so much time around them redneck biker thugs you think you and your son are outlaws, too? What am I your _Old Lady? _This shit is steady piling up. I've got charges pending against me! If that asshole Clay has his way the DA will let me off with a slap on a wrist and I'll either be in his debt or in his _crosshairs. _You really think now's a good time to have a house full of illegal weapons?"

"It's for your protection, hon—"

"Protection from WHAT?" Barbara bellowed. "What the Hell is going on Lowell? You've gotta talk to me, baby. That's the only way we're getting through this. Why is Gemma bringing you drugs? Why is Clay threatening you? _What did you do?"_

"Barbara," Lowell groaned. "You have to listen to me—"

"How long you been using again? Huh?" Barbara accused, narrowing her eyes. She grabbed his arms, yanking hard, sharp eyes scanning his skin for track marks. "You been acting strange since this summer. What did, you rack up another bill with the Nords? You get Clay to pay Darby off for you? You owe him money? He offer to take care of your debt in exchange for something else?"

"It's not like that—"

"What the fuck is it like?" Lowell wasn't answering fast enough. Barbara's hands were flying. There were two slaps across his face for every fist crashing into his chest, his shoulders, his legs as she lashed out against him. "Tell me"—_thump—"what the Hell"—_thwack—"_Is going on"—Pop—"tell me"—_Clunk—"TELL ME!"

Lowell grabbed her by her wrists, squeezing her legs between his so she couldn't kick him like he knew she would. "Damn it, Barbara. Stop it."

"Tell me," Barbara begged, tears pouring down her face as she finally broke down. "You gotta tell me. _Tell me, _Lowell. Tell me and we'll fix it together. We'll get through as a family. You gotta tell me. _Please."_

"You can't fix this, Baby," Lowell said, crying with her as he turned towards the open duffel bag he'd been packing his clothes in. "I gotta get as far away from you and Lowell as I can. You have to take care of our son. I heard the news before I left the hospital. The Doc thinks JT's gonna be okay. He'll be in recovery for a while but it's still _his _club. Those are _his _brother's not Clay's. Him and Piney'll never let anything happen to you."

"They'll protect you, too!" Barbara urged, eyes widened as she finally realized what she'd walked in on. "You don't have to run. Piney will—"

"_Shoot me dead," _Lowell interrupted. A brief silence upon the room before Barbara blinked twice, stepping back from his slowly.

"_What the fuck did you do?_"

Lowell shook his head, wiping at the tears spilling from his eyes with his sleeve. "I can't tell you, Barbara," he answered. "You'll never—"

"The doctor's told me I'd never be able to have children after the car accident that almost killed us both the first time you relapsed," Barbara argued, stepping forward to reach for both his hands. "When I found out I was pregnant you told me it was going to work out when everyone _including _me said I'd never make it past the first trimester. My father told me you'd never amount to nothing….said I'd be better off moving back to Kentucky with him and Ma…raising my son with them….My own brother cut me off when I married you….he told me you'd never kick the habit and he wasn't sticking around for the next wreck you caused that killed us both. Look at us, Lowell. Sixteen years…..and we're still here. You and me….and our son. Don't talk to me about _never. _Never doesn't exist for us. It doesn't matter what you did. You're a _good man _and I know there's a reason for it. I'm standing by you no matter what but I can't do it _blind. _You have to talk to me..._please don't walk out on your family._"

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

Tara was quiet the whole ride to school.

Jax pulled into the parking spot—turning to face her as soon as he twisted the keys out of the ignition.

"Tara," Jax said, reaching for her hand. "Listen to me, Babe. You can't let them get to you. They're just jealous—"

"_Because they want your dick_," Tara snapped. "They're pissed because they think I'm your new flavor of the month."

_Shit. _

"Tara," Jax urged. "You're not—"

Tara turned towards her car door. Pushing it open, she stepped out into the parking lot, bending over to reach for her bag on the floor of the car.

Jax grabbed it before she could, getting out on his side—walking around to where she stood as he shrugged the straps of her messenger bag up his shoulder.

"You're not a flavor of the month."

Tara shook her head.

Before Jax could protest any further, she reached up, threading her hands in his hair. Tugging on the golden-blonde strands, she pulled his mouth down to hers.

She kissed him slowly—deeply. She removed her hand from his hair only long enough to move the hand gripping her waist down to her ass, curling his fingers inward until he caught on. Tara pushed him back against the car, leaning into him as his hands slid up and down her back, grabbing every curve she had as she sucked on his tongue.

A chorus of whistling sounded somewhere over her shoulder. Tara tilted her head back—peering behind her at the group of jocks howling like wolves, mock-saluting Jax while David scowled, and Pierce shook his head at them as he cast Tara a look of apology.

Was he sorry his teammates were assholes? Or that he was the leading man in one of the many rumors that had somehow earned her a scarlet letter overnight?

Tara didn't give a shit.

_Let 'em talk._

_And while we're at it give them something to talk about._

Reaching for his face, Tara gripped his chin between two fingers.

"I'm your _favorite _flavor," Tare purred, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth.

"You're the _only _flavor, baby," Jax drawled_, _palming her ass through the denim mini-skirt she was wearing. He he pulled her tight against him—making sure she could feel every inch of how much he wanted her. _Only _her. "I don't have the _taste..._for anyone else."

Tara smirked. "_Let 'em know."_

Jax nodded at her—his lips lingering a little as he grazed her mouth with his own one final time.

Twisting his mouth to one side of his face, Jax winked at David—smiling at both him and Pierce as he grabbed Tara's hand, walking with her straight down the middle of the crowd.

When they reached the steps, Jax saw him first.

Leonard Wayland leaning over his Chemistry textbook, eyes flitting back and forth, between the book and the notes scribbled across the loose-leaf paper in his hand.

When Jax came to a sudden stop, Tara followed his line a vision—green eyes widening when she realized who he was glaring at.

Tara had a feeling Wendy was right about Leonard helping to fuel the rumor about them. But annoyed as she was, she didn't think he should get his face caved in for bowing to peer pressure. She could totally see why a guy like him would go along with a lie when it was finally getting him some attention from the _in _crowd.

Leonard was the only other friend she talked to regularly besides Opie—and it wasn't like Opie liked debating about the studies of Freud VS Marx or geeking over how easy Mr. Shin's AP Statistics final was.

She understood why he did it.

She was just hurt because she thought they were closer than that.

"_Hey, Lenny," _Jax chanted. Leonard looked up just in time to see Jax kick his bag off the steps, sending everything inside of it scattering, including an apple that he'd obviously packed with his lunch.

"Leave him alone, Jax," Tara urged. "I'm fine. Let's just—"

"I'm not bothering him," Jax argued, leaning over to pick the fallen fruit from the steps. "We're just talking, right _Lenny?"_

Tara rolled her eyes, pulling on the sleeve of his shirt. "Jax, come on—"

"Hold on a second, Babe," Jax said, cutting the protest on her lips with a kiss from his own before turning back towards Leonard who was now standing up—chewing his bottom lip as he cast a nervous glance towards the crowd growing behind Jax's back as if pleading for someone to come forward and help him.

"_Tara said she's fine, man. Leave him alone_." Jax spun around, sneering at the boy who'd spoken out. Pierce's stare never wavered as he added, "It's not worth it, man. _We _know she's not like that. So does everyone else who really knows her. It's just rumors, bro. Let it go. She _wants _you to."

Jax turned back around to look at Tara who nodded in agreement.

"You said don't let them get to me," Tara whispered, smiling her thanks to Pierce even as she reached for Jax's hand. "You can't let them get to you either."

Jax brought the hand in his to his mouth, kissing the back of it. "Okay, Babe."

Leonard's sigh of relief was short-lived when Jax abruptly spun to face him—grabbing him by his sweater, yanking him up, onto the tips of his toes.

"_Jax_!" Tara shrieked. Through the corner of her eyes she spotted Opie easing his way to the front of the crowd, standing behind him as he watched Pierce and all of his teammates—waiting for anyone to step forward.

The warning glare he cast them was almost _daring._

Tara didn't know what the Hell was going on with him and Donna but Opie looked ready for any excuse to wild the fuck out.

"You know what they say about _these?" _Jax asked, mushing the Granny-smith in his hand against the frightened teenage boys face. "They say _an apple a day keeps the doctor away." _Jax pulled on the collar of his Iron-Man T-shirt. "You're gonna _need _a doctor, _Lenny_. Let me even _think _you're spreading lies about her and I swear to God, eating an apple won't help you. _You got it?" _ Leonard resembled a bobble-head doll as he nodded quickly. The second he did, Jax dropped the apple down his shirt, shoving him back as he turned towards the crowd of high school kids standing behind him. His blue eyes landed on the cheerleaders first, flitting back and forth between Ima and Maize before finally resting on the redhead, who was no doubt the ringleader in everything.

"_You're lucky I don't believe in hitting females," _Jax growled, as his eyes trailed towards the left of them where most—if not all—of the football team stood. Blue eyes locked with an equally angry hazel pair. David glared openly as Jax addressed him and his teammates. "_You _ladies don't get a pass. The same shit I said to _Lenny _applies to you, too. I hear you running your mouth I'll shut it for you._"_

"_He's not lying guys!"_

Jax rolled his eyes at the sound of Wendy's voice from somewhere in the crowd.

Tara's clamped a hand over her mouth as she giggled, scanning the crowd for the blonde who loved to stir the pot—the only one who managed to do it without making Tara want to kick her teeth in (eighty percent of the time.)

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON OUT HERE?!" Principal Mason yelled. Everyone looked up at the top of the school steps where he stood just as the warning bell rang _again, _signaling everyone's lateness for first period. "GO TO CLASS! ALL OF YOU! YOU GOT TEN SECONDS! ANYONE STILL STANDING OUT HERE WILL GET DETENTION FOR THE NEXT TWO WEEKS! _MOVE IT! NOW!"_

Leonard was the first one to scurry up the steps, tripping over the laces of his high-top Converse sneakers as he abruptly spun back around—remembering to retrieve his bag and the books and home lunch that had been packed in it. He'd gathered all but the apple—which Jax picked up, smirking as he held it out to him.

Wendy and Lowell were next.

"You two are gonna win me _a lot _of money," Wendy said as they brushed past, admitting what Jax had already suspected. "_Cable's _on you, Kids."

She'd been in on the betting pool on how long he and Tara would last. But judging by the look of amusement on Tara's face as she shook her head at her, the green-eyed brunette was cool with her rooting _for _them instead of against.

"I SAID _NOW, _TELLER!" Principal Mason screeched.

Jax didn't miss the look of disapproval the principal cast in Tara's direction when he noticed her standing next to him.

He also caught the way Mr. Mason shook his head in dissapointment at Charming High's _shining star _when Tara grabbed Jax by his arm, turning him towards her—staring pointedly at the sneering principal as she locked lips with him.

Chuckling, Jax grabbed her hand in his, pushing her towards the steps before she could get herself in trouble.

Jax didn't give a shit about detention or getting suspended, but despite Tara's eagerness to give everyone who didn't like them together a great big, royal _FUCK YOU _(which he _loved) _he knew she didn't want anything getting in the way of her education.

And getting suspended for cursing Mr. Mason out would certainly do the trick.

Walking past the agitated high school principal, Jax drawled the last words he expected to ever say—words he'd heard his best friend say more times than he could count on both hands.

"Come on, baby," Jax said, smirking at the glares being shot at them. "….._let me walk you to class."_

Tara giggled. "You're the one that never shows up," she teased. "I'm walking _you, _Teller."

Jax shrugged as they made their way through the first floor hallway, towards the staircase.

"Mr. Elbridge…I uhh….I was wondering if I could change lab partners," Jax heard Leonard mutter as they walked inside the classroom."

Jax chuckled when the science teacher shook his head.

"Unfortunately Sarah Hale won't be with us anymore," Mr. Elbrige answered. "So it looks like you, Tara _and _Mr. Teller are going to have work together."

"_You better behave," _Tara whispered as they sat down at the station near the window, watching as Leonard walked towards them as if he was on Death row, heading towards the electric chair.

"Best behavior," Jax lied. "This is my new favorite subject, Babe."

"You _hate _science," Tara accused, rolling her eyes.

"I know," Jax admitted. Sliding his stool closer to hers, he kissed her neck before whispering in her ear, "But this should be an easy class now that I'm partnered with you…..we have such great _Chemistry."_

Tara laughed.

She was opening her mouth to tell him how corny his line was when static ripped through the air, above their heads as the loud speaker clicked on.

_"TARA G. KNOWLES…..PLEASE REPORT TO THE GUIDANCE OFFICE IMMEDIATELY."_

Everyone turned towards their table, gawking at _Nerdvana _as she slid down off her stool, rolling her eyes.

"You're already getting me in trouble, Teller," Tara joked. Pressing her lips to his ear as she walked around him, she whispered, "_Leave him alone, Jax._ I'm serious."

"Promise," Jax said, holding a hand to his chest. "Cross my heart."

Tara heard Jax slam his hand against the table, growling, "_Are you staring at her ass?!_" before she could even reach the doorway.

She looked back briefly, unable to suppress her giggle as she watched Leonard picking his things up from off the floor where they'd fallen when he flinched, his elbow knocking into his bag.

_Jack ass, _she thought when Jax looked up—grinning at her briefly before switching back to _"angry" _when Leonard braved glancing towards him.

Tara had a feeling her former study partner was regretting going along with that rumor.

Being popular always made you a target after all.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"_Tara!_" the guidance counselor squawked as she walked into her office. She waved her hand towards the chair in front of her desk. "Have a seat, Doll!"

"Good morning, Mrs."—Tara scanned the desk for her name plate—"_Palmer."_

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" Mrs. Palmer asked, sliding a doughnut Tara never asked for to her side of the desk. "I heard you got into a little fender bender over the weekend. And Katy wonders why I'm always bending her ear about teenagers being allowed to drive. Permit or not I still say is unreasonable. They're too focused on fixing their hair in the rear view mirror or heavy petting with their boyfriends to focus on the road. _Not you of course, Dear. _Katherine told me that someone T-boned your car."

"Yes," Tara answered, taking a bite out of the doughnut with hopes that it would deter her need to speak until the subject was changed.

She didn't even have her permit—let alone a license.

And she had a feeling Mrs. Randall's pregnancy hormones and her constant sick days last year had to do with her forgetting to extend Tara's school day to add Driver's Ed to her schedule for the Fall semester.

"Let's see…." Mrs. Palmer scanned the manila folder opened up on the desk, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she read. "_Oh wow. _ Looks like Lydia wasn't exaggerating. You really were her shining star…..looks like you're the star of the school. I thought my other student Pierce was a shoe in for Valedictorian of his graduating class but—_my God!" _The animated counselor, looked up at Tara, her brown eyes wide. "Looks like Mr. Reynold's will be the Valedictorian after all. With all these extra credits you have you'll probably be graduating _before _him and the rest of your class."

Tara sat up straighter in her chair. "_Really?"_

She knew it was a possibility.

There was always at least one silver lining to almost three years with any real social life. She went through extra classes, acing them all without any distractions.

Pity from the Oswald's had earned her special treatment—college courses that she wouldn't have been able to afford were funded with "financial aid" that she didn't really qualify for given that she wasn't yet a matriculated student.

She was always talking about graduating early.

But now she was hearing from the mouth of her new guidance counselor—a woman whose daughter _Officer Katy Palmer _bore a striking resemblance to.

"_Really_," Mrs. Palmer repeated, beaming at her like she'd just finished helping her across the street with her groceries. "You have such a bright future ahead of you, Tara. I know a smart girl like you has plans. What career path are you interested in? You're grades are _phenomenal _all across the board but the Math and sciences are clearly your strong suit. Are you considering a career in the medical field? Pediatrician? I see you aced your AP Psych class. Maybe Psychiatry then?"

Tara blushed, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Well this is gonna sound _very _ambitious," she said. "And might make you think I'm arrogant but I want to be a sur—"

"_GOOOOOOD MORNING CHARMING HIGH STUDENTS AND FACULTY!" _Stacey Wilson cawed through the loud speaker. "_This is your President here. I hope everyone's been having a good week! If you haven't I have _great _news! Next week is guaranteed to rock your Tiger-lovin' socks off! Here to help me out on explaining WHYYYY is my fellow power squad sister and Vice President Maize O'Keefe_!"

_"It's that time of year again, folks," _Maize announced. "SPIRIT WEEK!_ Check your closets ladies &amp; gents. If you don't have a week's worth of orange and blue I suggest you get to begging mom and dad for their credit cards so you can make a trip to the mall for a couple shopping bags full of _school spirit! _Show some Tiger pride! Come out and support our Varsity champions as they gear up for the new season!"_

_"Brace yourself, Ladies,"_ Stacy chanted, her voice singsong. "_You know we always save the best for last!"_

_"The votes are in," _Maize announced. "_And I am bee-yawwwwnd excited to announce the nominations for this year's Homecoming Court! The nominees for Prom King are as follows…_…_David Hale—"_

_"No surprise there," _Stacey commented.

_"…..Pierce Reynolds…."_

_"—living _proof _that being a star athlete doesn't mean you can't be a genius, too!"_

_"…..Pete Dunham..."_

_"—foreign exchange student…._yum…._I'm always a sucker for a good cock—"_

_"_MS. WILSON!" Principal Mason barked in the background.

"Cockney!" Stacy hissed. "_I was going to say _cockney accent…._sheesh!"_

Maize giggled into the microphone. "And last but certainly not least—"

"—the same guy who refused to show up despite being nominated and _winning _last year—"

"_Jackson Teller."_

_"Those are your Prom King nominees."_

_"Forget the guys!" Stacy said, cheer ringing in her voice. "What about us girls?"_

_"We did say were saving the best for _last _didn't we? Drum roll please…."_

Both of them banged against whatever surface was in front of them.

_"AND THE NOMINEES FOR PROM QUEEN ARE….._"

Maize dramatically cleared her throat. "_Imalya Lee—"_

_"My girl Ima gunning for the crown as always—"_

_"….Stacy Wilson!"_

_"Oh my _God!" Stacy shrieked. "I can't believe you guys nominated me _again! _And during my final year of high school. This is a dream come—"

"_Pipe down, Sister!" _Maize teased. "_Save the acceptance speech for when Ima throws a bitch fit when she loses to you again."_

"MS. O'KEEFE!"

"_Whaaat? They say bitch on TV now. It's like an acceptable word or something!"_

"Nominees," Stacy urged.

"Sorry….so we have Imalya Lee…..Stacy Wilson….._Sarah Hale—"_

_"—I still think Mason should have let us vote someone else in since—"_

_"_Oh you have gotta be fuckin kidding me," Maize snapped.

"THAT'S IT!"

There was a shuffling of chairs—the crackling of the microphone as he took over the intercom announcements.

"Please be advised that you are to follow the dress code," Principal Mason reminded. "I don't care if it's the school colors. No bikini's….no going shirtless and painting your chest blue and orange! _Have a good day boys and girls._"

There was loud conk as the speaker went dead.

"What were you saying, Sweetie?" Mrs. Palmer prodded.

"I was—"

"_My apologies." _ Principal Mason's voice cut through the rooms of the high school once more. "_In my haste to…uh—well _anyway. The final nominee for Homecoming Queen—'

"—IS BULLSHIT!" Maize screamed. "WHO THE FUCK NOMINATED HER OVER _ME?"_

_"Maisey calm d—"_

_"THAT BITCH DOESN'T EVEN PARTICIPATE IN SCHOOL EVENTS! THE ONLY SPIRIT SHE'S GOT IS THE _HOLY _SPIRIT FROM WALKING AROUND LIKE SHE'S MOTHER FUCKIN THERESA!"_

_"I ALREADY BANNED YOU FROM MAKING THE ANNOUNCEMENTS!" Principal Mason screamed. "YOU WANT ME TO BAN YOU FROM SPIRIT WEEK AND SUSPEND YOU AGAIN? YOUR MOTHER BEING A TEACHER HERE DOESN'T MEAN—"_

_"Sir," _Getrude, his secretary urged. "You're yelling over the loud speaker!"

"Oh." There was a brief moment of awkward silence,before the principal finally said, "Your final nominee for Homecoming Queen is _Tara Knowles."_

Then the intercom conked out again.

"Well how about that?" Tara was afraid Mrs. Palmer's face might break if she smiled any harder. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You're not just smart. You're goregeous. It's only natural that you'd be popular, too."

Tara laughed.

_Oh you have no idea…._

"You've got my vote," Mrs. Palmer joked, winking at her. "Now….what were you saying?"

Tara blurted it out quickly—before fear of ridicule or another loud speaker announcement could deter her.

"_I want to be a surgeon."_

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"You got a minute?" Kyle asked, foot bouncing nervously as he stood in the doorway.

"No," Tig snapped. "He _doesn't. _Get the Hell out."

"Give us a minute, Tiggy," Clay demanded, nodding towards the exit. Tig's nostrils flared as he slowly rose up from his chair, bumping his shoulder hard against Kyle's as he walked past him. "_Stay close, Tig! _I still need to talk to you!"

"I did what you—"

"_Shut the doors."_

Kyle pushed the double doors shuts, ignoring the many vacant chairs to stand next to the one at the head of the table where Clay sat, twirling the gavel in his hand.

"I did everything you asked," Kyle assured.

"The body?"

"_I marked the grave."_

"You leave any—"

"No." Kyle answered a little too quickly for his liking. When Clay cocked his head sideways, Kyle scratched at his neck. "I, um…..I might have thrown up a little af…aff—aff-_after…"_

"It's okay, Son," Clay encouraged. "It's always rough your first time."

"That's it, right?" Kyle's smile was weak, almost as if he was suppressing the urge to vomit right then and there. "_I mean…_I'm patching in next Church vote?"

"It's a done deal," Clay promised.

"But what about JT," Kyle stammered. "I heard he's….he's—"

"JT's a _lame duck," _Clay barked. "And you're gonna help me make sure his reign is over for good."

"I thought I….I uh….I thought that was what this was for…I mean I don't want to k—I'm not saying I can't _handle _it…it's just—"

Clay stood up, clamping a hand on both his shoulders. "Relax, _Brother." _It was the first time Clay had ever addressed him like an actual member of his SAMCRO family. Kyle slowly calmed down. "No more bloodshed. I just need you to take care of one more little thing for me…"

Kyle jutted his chin up. All he was missing was a soldier's salute.

"_What you need, Prez?"_

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

Twenty minutes into fifth period, Tara's head shot up at the sound of someone tapping against the wall outside her classroom door.

Scanning the room to see if anyone else taking Madame Boudreaux exam had noticed, she looked to see that even the French teacher herself was completely oblivious to the grinning, blue-eyed boy gesturing towards the Hall pass hanging up on the wall next to the chalkboard.

Tara raised her hand, rolling her eyes at herself when she realized the pointlessness of the motion.

"_Madame Bee," _Tara whispered as she walked towards her. She placed the booklet on her desk. "I finished my test. Can I use the bathroom please?"

When the teacher nodded, Tara pulled the wooden paddle from the nail embedded into the wall, stepping out into the hallway.

Jax spun her around—pinning against the wall before she could clear the classroom door.

"Jax," Tara hissed. He pressed a finger to her mouth, pulling her along the hallway until they reached a door that was all too familiar to the infamous Jackson Teller.

Tara was too busy scowling at the boy pulling her into the janitor's closet to notice the angry teenage girl tapping her foot as she watched them disappear behind the door she'd been caught behind once before.

She'd already stolen her home court nomination.

_Why not give her my title as _Blowjob Queen, _too? _Maize thought, grinning as she pushed the door to the staircase open, headed down to find the Principal.

If she timed it right, she could out them in front of Mr. Mason _and _everybody on the third floor…..just like Wendy had done to her.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"What the Hell do you think you're doing, Jax?"

Did he not understand her when she said she wasn't another notch for his belt.

_I am not giving you head in a closet at school like I'm some…Maize._

_I am _not _Maize._

"It's fifth period," Jax said, pushing her back against the file cabinet crammed in the corner.

Tara cocked an eyebrow. "So?"

Grazing her mouth with his, he coaxed her lips open with his tongue—tangling it with hers as he slid his hands up the sides of her skirt, hooking his thumb into her panties.

"My lunch time," Jax explained, nudging her head aside to suck on her neck as he lifted her up, placing her on top of the cabinet as he pulled her panties down her legs. "...I'm not really in the mood for what they're serving in the cafeteria..."

"Jax…."

She had no words.

No argument or protest that would sound sincere even to her own ears.

So Tara did what they both wanted. She spread her legs, leaning back as he kneeled—burying his face between her thighs as he ate her like a man on death row, enjoying his last meal.

Neither one of them were aware how much time had passed.

And neither one of them heard it when the bell rang or noticed when Maize yanked the door open, exposing them to every curious eye in the hallway—including the Principals.

"_MR. TELLER!"_

Tara's eyes ballooned. Her initial reaction was the shove him off but when she tried Jax tightened his grip on her thighs, stroking her harder with his tongue—as Mr. Mason turned purple in the face from yelling.

As Maize's eyes popped wide in surprise before narrowing in envy.

Tara knew how twisted it was.

She knew how wrong...how embarrassed and ashamed she _should _have been.

And she wanted to stop him. but she couldn't.

She was already so close.

She was right there.

And then he finally pushed her over the edge.

She bit down hard on her tongue, nearly drawing blood as she did her best to stifle the moan rippling through her as she came—in front of a crowd full of her fellow classmates.

There would be time for blushing and cursing Jax out later.

But in that moment all she could do was giggle.

She laughed at the scowl on Maize's face as she mumbled loud enough for her to hear that, "_You said you didn't _do _that…"_

She laughed at the wide-eyed expression on Wendy's face—the shock freezing her features before she gave a cursory nod that screamed, _"Good for you, girl," _before tossing her arm over the shoulder of a guy who was either Lowell or the Koolaid man judging by how red his face was.

Most of all, she couldn't stop laughing at the steam coming out of her Principal's ears when Jax nodded his head up at him.

"What gives, _Mace?" _Jax said, smirking. "It's my lunch period. _Can't a guy eat in peace?"_

"Jackson Teller," Mr. Mason growled. "Tara Knowles….In my office RIGHT NOW!"

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

_"_Hey, Patty," Diane said as she sifted through the different sections, sliding the chart in her hand into the one she needed before pushing the file cabinet shut.

"You're a popular girl," Patricia said, smiling up at the puzzled expression on her face. "You got another guy showing up looking for you."

"Who?" Diane questioned.

_Please don't be Padraic….Please don't be Padraic._

Patricia shrugged. "He didn't give his name….had an Irish accent though….I _think _it was—"

"_Scottish," _Diane corrected, rubbing her eyes as she squeezed them shut. "He's Scottish."

"A _Scotsman." _Patricia's eyes widened as she nodded her approval. "Nice."

"Did he leave?"

"I don't think so," Patricia responding before picking up the ringing phone next to her. "_Good afternoon…..yes…of course, could you hold one second for me, please? I'm transferring you over right now…you, too sweetheart…." _Patricia looked up, cocking an eyebrow. "You gonna spend your break standing there watching me work?"

Diane smirked. "I'll be back."

Avoiding the elevator altogether, Diane made her way through the stairwell headed towards the only place that could make her smile and want to cry at the same time.

It took an enormous amount of restraint not to walk inside and pick one of them up.

They were so precious—brand new, untouched….

_""I figured you have a mini-van full of kids by now..." _

Diane jumped—flinching at the sound of his voice beside her.

She hadn't even notice his arrival.

"…_.I remember how bad you wanted a wee one...a baby boy if I—"_

"What the Hell are you doing here?" Diane snapped.

Padraic's smile matched the intensity of her glare as he reached towards her, tugging lightly on the strands of her loose ponytail.

"I like the red," Padraic told her. "I hated it when you went blonde….I think that was the first fight we ever had. Me yelling about how I kissed my Old Lady the _brunette _goodbye and I came back from our run to Marilyn Monroe…..Red suits you though…goes well with your personality."

Diane pushed his hand away. "You stalking me now?"

"Maybe." Padraic stepped over, standing behind her—his breath tickling the hairs at the nape of her neck as he placed his hands on either side of the wall, looking through the glass at the room full of newborn babies.

"You stormed off yesterday," Padraic commented. "We didn't get a chance to finish our conversation…"

"I already said what I had to say," Diane said, sliding past him. "And as usual it went in one ear and out the other."

"Did you hear what _I _said?" Padraic asked. "Were _you _listening? Forgive me, Love but I feel like I have to be quick about this before you run off again. _Nothing's changed, _Di. Seven years….I got my top rocker and there's a couple extra miles on my Harley. That's _it. _I've just been killing time. We _both _have….I miss you, Di...I love—"

"I'm _married._"

"You really think that ring on your finger means more than the crow on your chest?" He challenged stepping closer to her. "Or did you get rid of it?" When Diane swatted his hand away from the V-neck collar of her scrub top, Padraic smirked. "I guess this is the part where you feed me some shitee about the _club…_how it changed me."

"It didn't change you," Diane replied. "It changed _me."_

"You should have talked to me," Padraic said. "We could have worked it out. Instead you let Gemma—"

"I'm not doing this." Diane shut her eyes, shaking her head. "I didn't leave because of Gemma. And it wasn't about that porn slut I caught in your room either—"

"I would hope not," Padraic interrupted. "It's not like I didn't give you and Kozik a pass."

Diane scowled. "_Excuse me?"_

"That two-faced bastard is lucky he made it through his Prospect year."

"You know what, Padraic?" Diane snapped. "I left to get away from _all _of you. You're _poison. _Every single one of—"

"_Is that why you killed our baby?"_

Diane slapped him so hard her fingers felt numb.

And when she spoke it was through clenched teeth. "I would have rathered…._sell my kid _to the highest bidder at that _fuckin_ baby factory your _boss _was running than raise a child to become what _you _are."

Padraic nodded, scrubbing a hand across his face as he glared at her. "So Gemma was right then….you really did—"

"Gemma's a lying _bitch," _Diane snapped. "I didn't kill….._your…._I didn't do _anything. _you took that choice away from me. You and your _club….._Jesus Christ, Pat….the club took everything from me…_including you._"

Padraic shook his head. "You never lost me."

Diane through her hands up as she back away. "I'm sorry, Padraic," she said. "It's done….I've moved on."

"No." Padraic grabbed her arm, jerking he back around when she turned to walk off. "You're _lying."_

"Padraic—"

"_I saw the pregnancy test!" _He growled. "If you didn't get rid of what the Hell happened? What did you….." Padraic paused, his breath hitching. The alarm in her eyes was gone in a flash but he'd already seen it. "_Where the Hell is my kid?"_

Diane snatched her hand away. "_Stay the fuck away from me."_

"DIANE—"

"_Enough."_

Padraic spun around, green eyes blazing as he glowered at the dapper young man standing behind him. "This ain't got shitee to do with you."

"She's my _wife," _Duncan declared, moving to stand next to her. "It has _everything_ to do with me."

Diane gasped when she saw Padraic's hand trail down his vest—treading dangerously close to the KA-BAR hanging from his hip. The tips of his fingers were tracing the ridges of the handle when two voices she hadn't heard in years rang out behind him.

"Walk away, man," Kozik said.

"_Aye." _Chibs nodded his agreement before glancing over at Diane. "You okay?"

"She's _fine," _Padraic hissed, shoving in between both of his club brothers as he stormed off.

Kozik took the brunt of the blow—but he merely shook it off, a playful smile spreading across his face as he began walking backwards in the direction Chibs had followed after Padraic.

"Good to have you back, _Fidget."_

Diane's smile didn't quite reach her eyes—not right away at least.

But as her mind flashed back to way Kozik and Happy used to tease over how much she squirmed and cursed when they'd had to hold her down to finish coloring in the tattoo on her chest, Diane couldn't help grinning fondly at the bittersweet memory.

"_Dee_." Duncan rubbed her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her temple as they watched them disappear around the corner. "Why didn't you tell me? You were…..you were pregnant when—"

Diane slid away from him like his touched burned.

"Same reason you didn't tell me you and your High school sweetheart had a six year old daughter…._I guess it wasn't that important."_

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"Scale of one to ten," Jax called out as Tara walked several steps ahead of him. "How pissed are you right now?"

"_Ten."_

"Damn it." Jax sighed heavily. But his frustration didn't last long when Tara spun around to face him. The mischief in her eyes had him reaching for her waist, pulling her close to him. "So when you say ten you mean…."

Tara pulled his face down to hers, smiling against mouth as she kissed him.

"That was the funniest shit I've ever witnessed," Tara admitted.

_"I might as well have a name plate made for you and weld it right to that chair as often as your ass is in it!"_

_"Cool." Jax wriggled his eyebrows. "Can you put _Jax _in quotations in between _Jackson _and _Teller?"

Jax shrugged, laughing. "I wanted to feel special."

"You are special," Tara teased, giggling with him as they recapped their meeting in the principal's office. "_Special Ed."_

"I'd make a damn good lawyer though," Jax joked.

Tara scoffed. "What the Hell makes you think that?"

"I pretty much saved your ass in there, Knowles," Jax bragged. "If it wasn't for me you would have lost your crown!"

_"You need to relax, Mace," Jax said, crossing one leg over the other as he slumped down in the chair. "Tara didn't do anything…_literally…._and I gotta be honest. I resent having to share credit. I'm the one who did all the work."_

_Tara clamped her hand over her mouth too late. _

_Principal Mason had already heard the giggle that escaped. He turned his beady brown eyes on her, glaring at the green-eyed brunette who couldn't stop laughing despite how much trouble she was in._

_"You think this is funny Ms. Knowles?" Mr. Mason challenged. "Well let's see how funny you think it is when you're sitting out Spirit week….that _includes _Homecoming."_

_"You can't do that!" Jax argued, smirking when he saw Tara shrug her shoulders through the corner of his eye. "_Maize _was part of this whole Homecoming bullshit last year!"_

_"WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE WHEN YOU SPEAK TO ME!" The angry Principal snapped. "And one thing has nothing to do with the other."_

_"So let me make sure I got this right," Jax said, holding back his laughter when he heard Tara giggle at the way he pressed a finger to his chin like Dr. Evil in the Austin Powers movie. "Maize got caught giving me head and she gets to go to prom but Tara can't go because you caught _me _on my knees?"_

"I don't want to go anyway," Tara argued, snickering. "You weren't doing me any favors. And besides you didn't do shit. He was ready to suspend us both for a week because of you. _Mrs. Palmer _showing up to come to my defense is the reason I only got four days detention. She vouched for her _prized _student. If anything I helped _you _out!"

"I just can't believe you're not pissed at me," Jax admitted, brushing her hair back. "I was ready for you to flip the Hell out."

Tara rolled her eyes. "Despite what everyone around here thinks I have a mind of my own and unlike all of your _Darlin's _it doesn't bend or break for anyone. Not even you, Prince Charming…..you didn't drag me into that closet."

"Nope," Jax agreed, reaching around to palm her ass as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "_I just did everything else."_

"You should take me home now," Tara suggested, eyeing him saucily. "Maybe after I finish doing my homework I can do _you." _

Jax cocked an eyebrow, throwing a salacious grin right back at her. "You know I'm gonna hold you to that right?"

"Keep a secret?" Jax nodded stiffly. Tara smiled, surprising him when pressed her palm against another very stiff part of him, rubbing him through his jeans as she pressed her lips to his ear. "_I'm counting on it."_

"_Check you two out." _Jax and Tara turned around to see Kyle walking towards them. The ambitious Prospect came to a stop in front of them, wolf-whistling as he took in how tightly Tara was pressed to him, every curve on her body that was in Jax's grip. "_It's about time, bro. _I've been waiting for y'all to finally do the dance with no pants. Maybe now she'll realize you're not worth the hype and move on with a _real _outlaw."

Tara rolled her eyes. "If yours was the last cock on Earth I'd switch teams."

_Lick-her license, no question._

Jax chuckled, kissing her cheek as he raised his eyebrows at Kyle. "What the Hell you doing here?"

The fine hairs at the back of Tara's neck raised up when she saw how quickly the leering smile on Kyle's face disappeared.

Reaching up to scratch his head, Kyle address the ground between them instead of meeting Jax's eyes.

"I need to talk to you," Kyle said. "There's some shit going down with the club….and despite us not seeing eye to eye all the time I didn't want you to find out—"

"What's with you and Clay not knowing your place?" Jax scowled, his nostrils flaring. "That asshole thinks he's _President _and all the ass kissing you been doing has you thinking you're more than a grunt. You're _prospecting _for _my _father's club. You're not a patch so you don't know shit. And if the choice is between listening to your fuckery and helping Tara study"—he paused to laugh with her at the fuckery _he _was talking before turning his sneer back to Kyle's forlorn expression. "I choose her. So beat your feet in the direction you came."

"_It's about JT_," Kyle said, brown eyes pleading in a way that neither Tara or Jax understood. "Clay tried his best to keep it from getting out but someone leaked the accident report….he can't protect him anymore. Everyone knows—"

"Everyone knows _what?" _Jax barked, inadvertently digging his nails into Tara's side.

"I'm sorry, Man," Kyle said, shaking his head. "Everyone knows it wasn't really an accident. He tried to kill himself and now his patch is on the line. And not just his _President's _patch….they're talking about kicking him out the club."

Jax nodded.

He just….kept nodding.

Like a bobble head doll on a dashboard….

He didn't stop the upward and downward motion of his chin—of his head.

Not until he threw the first punch.

The one that sent Kyle flying backwards.

The one followed by a kick to the falling prospect's chest to help him along with hitting the ground.

"_JAX_!" Tara screamed, pulling on him by the back of his shirt with no success.

But Jax didn't hear her.

He couldn't feel her tugging at him.

He couldn't see Tara—her horror-stricken face, the terror in her green eyes.

All he heard were lies—lies that made him feel like shit because deep down he believed them.

All he felt was betrayal—his father had found yet another way to leave him.

All he saw was what was right in front of him—a young man who was getting dangerously close to being beat within an inch of his life.

"_JACKSON!"_

And as the tears welled up in his eyes he couldn't even see him clearly.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

Clay wrapped his knuckles lightly against the door.

Moments later, Gemma turned the lock off on her front door, walking back into the kitchen as he stepped inside.

"_You heard about JT."_

It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," Clay responded. "It doesn't make a difference."

Gemma smirked. "And I thought you were arrogant _before_ you got a taste of what the gavel felt like."

"I put Tig on Lowell," Clay announced. "Your mistake almost fucked everything up but I'm fixing it. You need to make that guest bedroom down the hallway up real nice."

"That's not a guest bedroom, asshole," Gemma snapped. "It's Thomas' room."

"LJ's gonna be staying with you a little while," Clay declared. "Not long term….just until Unser can round up his next of kin. While he's doing that you can feel the kid out….see if he knows anything….make sure he doesn't have to end up like his Mom and Dad—"

"_Are you shittin me?" _Gemma launched the steaming mug in her hand across the room. Clay winced as hot coffee singed his cheeks, the remnants of the ceramic cup in a scattered pile at his feet where it'd ricocheted off the dining room table. "You're not the fuckin Grim Reaper, Clay. You can't go around killing every—"

Clay charged towards her, snatching her up by her robe.

"I'm tired of telling you," Clay growled. "You don't tell _me _anything. I tell _you."_

Gemma shoved him away, crossing her arms. "You don't tell me _shit. _I didn't let John run my show. You really think I'm gonna let _you?"_

"You almost ruined everything," Clay said through clenched teeth. "YOU ALMOST FUCKED US _BOTH _OVER!"

"I didn't—"

"IT'S DONE!" Clay bellowed. "Lowell's meeting Mr. Hayhem _tonight. _And so is that brownnosing bitch he married!"

Gemma shook her head. "You can't, Clay," she warned. "Barbara is—"

"—_I don't give a shit!" _Clay yelled. "None of this blows back on us."

"Who the Hell else—"

"_THE PROSPECT!"_

Gemma blinked hard. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"_Kyle _is the one that paid that redneck off," Clay said. "He's the one that got him to lie to the cops about JT's accident being a suicide. That poor kids so desperate to join the club he'd do anything to earn his patch. And he _knew _JT was the only member standing in the way of that. He sabotaged John's bike one day when Lowell was showing him the ropes….the run down on the shop. _Kyle _killed the trucker and buried his body out on the Wahiawa land….he's on his way to tell your son the _truth_ about his Old man...about how a vote's being called to have his President's patch permanently stripped because we can't trust him anymore. Trying to take his own life? It doesn't matter that he survived. Taking the coward's way is no better than being a _rat. _We're in the clear, Gem. With Lowell gone we're safe. Jax is the final piece to the puzzle. And when your son comes running to you for answers you're gonna give him all the right ones."

Gemma moved forward, smiling up at him as she stepped on his toes. "And if I _don't?"_

She'd meant it as a joke.

But judging by the murderous glare suddenly marring Clay's features the SAMCRO acting President didn't take it as such.

"Jax has a birthday coming up in a few weeks doesn't he? _Sweet sixteen." _Clay whistled. "I know what that means. Even your son snuck a peak at the _Harley _you got hidden in JT's dorm. I caught him sneaking the keys to check it out with Opie."

"You got a point you plan on making sometime today?"

Gemma had a feeling she knew where he was going.

She was still holding out hope that she was wrong.

"I know you had Lowell give it a once over," Clay commented. "Wanted to make sure everything was perfect before you let your baby boy take his first ride. But maybe Lowell didn't inspect it as good as you think…maybe Jax might end up having a little trouble with the clutch just like his Old man—"

"_You listen to me you Son a bitch—"_

"You don't have a lot of friends Gemma," Clay said. "And the ones you have aren't good for much but sucking cock &amp; boiling rice...I really don't think you want a war with me…."

Clay reached his hand up to brush his thumb through the moisture streaming down Gemma's face.

He'd tried to hit her where it would hurt the most.

With _try _being the operative word.

If his head hadn't gotten so damn big he might have remembered who he was dealing with.

Gemma Teller—the Queen of deception.

She could turn on the water works—cry crocodile tears on a whim.

"Don't cry, Gem," Clay urged, cupping her face. "_I'm sorry, okay? _I don't wanna fight with you. You know I'd never hurt Jackson. I'm just pissed 'cause I feel like I'm losing you now that your Old man pulled through. Having the gavel won't be the same without you by my side. I want _you _to be my Queen. _I love you, Baby."_

Lie.

Lie.

Lie.

One right after the other.

_You can't bullshit a certified bullshitter, _Gemma thought to herself.

Now she knew it for certain.

The man she'd fallen in love with wouldn't hesitate to hurt her son if it benefited him in any way.

She'd bet on the wrong horse in her haste to get back at her husband for cheating—for starting another family behind her back.

And now she was paying for it.

But that credit card was about to be decline.

She was done approving all the charges that came with getting back at JT.

Now she had an entirely different target it mind.

"I'm sorry, baby," Gemma said, smiling weakly. "I know I fucked up. I was afraid we'd get caught. I wanted to fix things with Lowell my own way…prove to you that I was worthy of being your number two."

"Number _one," _Clay corrected, reaching for her hand. "You don't have to prove yourself to me, Gemma. I already know what a strong…_fierce _woman you are."

_Fierce _mother _asshole. _

_Jax _always _comes first._

"_I love you too, _Clay."

Gemma's eyes never left his as she reached for his belt buckle, pulling it apart—tugging his zipper down as she slowly lowered herself to her knees in the middle of her dining room.

Staring up at him, Gemma wrapped her smile around the tip of him—kissing every inch of his manhood before taking him deep in her throat, sucking and slurping his cock. Clay tilted his head back shutting his eyes as she pulled her hair hard, pushing her head forward to meet his every thrust as he rocked his hip into her mouth.

It was every groan—every time she heard her name whispered through every moan that hissed past his teeth that kept her going.

Gemma sucked harder and faster, determined to make him cum, spilling down her throat the way he loved to.

When he did, she'd let him bend her over the table and fuck her until he came again.

Then they'd make their way to the master bedroom—the one room he'd never had the pleasure of entering. She get on all fours in the middle of the bed she shared with his best friend—her _husband_ and let him pull her hair hard while he fucked her from behind.

Love was such a fickle thing.

He'd almost had her.

Gemma was all but ready to join him again—be his leading lady.

Let all the disagreeing they'd done over the past few weeks slide—sweep it right under the rug.

But Clay made a very big mistake.

And it was one he was going to pay for.

He threatened her _son._

No one threatened _her_ son.

He may have won the battle this time around but the war had yet to come.

_Gemma Rose Teller _was the second horseman—the living embodiment of what the word _war _meant.

Clay Morrow was officially a marked man.

She'd stand by his side.

She'd make him feel like a _king._

And then at the first moment that presented itself—she knocked him right off that fuckin pedestal he built for himself.

When would men learn?

Hell hath no fury on a woman scorned.

And Gemma was scorned like a _Mother..._

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"M'am?"

Barbara was staring absently at the hardwood floors of the office as she considered the room she was sitting in—all the events that had led up to this moment.

She'd made a promise.

And now she was about to break it.

"M'am?" The secretary repeated. Finally Barbara looked up at her. "_He's ready for you now."_

The triumph he felt permeated the glass walls of his corner office—nearly suffocating her as she pulled at the metal handle, stepping inside.

"How many years has it been?" He asked. "Five? Twenty?"

"_Sixteen," _Barbara hissed. "You'd think you could remember the day you cut your only sister out of your life."

"You cut _us _out, _Barbie._" Barbara winced at the nickname that used to reduced her to a fit of giggles when they were younger.

"I don't want to talk about history."

"I didn't think you did," he replied, waving towards the seat on the opposite side of his desk. "I knew he'd fuck up eventually. I just didn't think it would take more than a decade to do it. What did Lowell do? He finally OD?"

_"He tried to kill a man," _Barbara snapped. "He did on someone else's orders. And now that he botched the job my whole family is in danger."

"_Jesus Christ."_

"He didn't have a choice," Barbara argued. "He told Lowell he'd kill his wife and son. It was JT or us."

"_JT?" _Her brother's eyes widened in disbelief. "As in _John Teller—"_

"President and founding member of the Sons of Anarchy." Barbara nodded. "His Sargent at arms has been making a play for the gavel. He needed a patsy to take JT out so he could keep his hands clean."

"And now thanks to that asshole I _told _you not to marry—"

"You can say I told you so all you want later. _Please," _Barbara begged. "I haven't darkened your doorstep since you told me you wanted nothing to do with my husband or any child he fathered. Now isn't now the time to teach me a life lesson. I need your help. I'm your _sister, _goddamn it...I got no one else to turn to."

Robert reached into the suit jacket folded over his chair—pulling a cell phone from the pocket.

"I'm giving Sheila a call—"

Barbara shook her head. "No—"

"Sheila took my house and half my money when she divorced me for that asshole Professor," Robert griped. "She turned my kid against me, too. The least she could do is let you and your kid stay with her for a little while..._in the house I paid for. _Your husband is not to go anywhere near them, you understand me? I'll give you until tomorrow to have him surrender before I have an APB put out on him. In the mean time I'll have a security detail set up for you and the kid."

"Rob—"

Robert held his hand up—signaling for silence as dialed several numbers after picking up the reciever to the phone on his desk, pressing it to his ear as he scrolled through his cell phone for his ex-wife's number.

"Hi…..yes….is June there? Can you tell me when she'll be back? Right….well I need her to call me as soon as possible...tell her I'll be stopping by her office tomorrow afternoon. I'm gonna be encroaching on her jurisdiction for a few weeks and I want to touch base so we can find a way to make sure my team and hers stay out of each other's hair for the duration…._I'm sorry?..._I didn't hear you. Wait a sec"—Robert glanced at the phone's screen, rolling his eyes at the measly two bars representing the strength of his signal. "My phone's breaking up, Doll. One more time, please."

_"What is your _name _Sir?" _Barbara heard the secretary squeak—more than a touch of irritation in her voice.

"My apologies," Robert said. "This is Robert F. Kohn…..no, not _Combs. _Agent Robert F. _Kohn…._FBI. Make sure she calls me."

* * *

**THOUGHTS?**

**Favorite scenes, lines, moments, etc? Random predictions? Overall feedback? **

[ **10**,**0000**—_why the Hell do my EDITS always result in MORE_—**words**] #RAMBLER

You know what to do if you're wanting more...

**|REVIEW|**


	64. Chapter 57

**A/N: **I got two words for you folks: **TIME JUMP!**

**FYI: **I'm sorry for the long wait on **"BEST POLICY"**. Uncharming is just a lot easier to post right now because most of the chapters are already pre-written. I just have to flesh them out.

**P.S: **I think I should give fair warning...this chapter is a little darker than I usually go. Also I couldn't see a way to cut it in half (well I didn't _want_ to) so it's one **monster **of a chapter. So be sure to show me some **monster-**sized love in the review section if you like it. #HelloHandCramps lol

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

**_THREE WEEKS LATER_...**

"_She's got your temper, too...she's a _fighter…._threw a fit when Jimmy…..when J-jimmy... …. But we're okay….Kell is…..well there's some fighting I had to do on my own_… _I don't think it helped much….it was more him knowing I needed peace of mind….knowing there was no way I could go back without knowing you were okay….without seeing it for myself…and now I have and…and….I don't feel any better than I did before. _John_—"_

He sat up slowly—reached for her hand, folding it into the warmth of his own.

"I'm alright, _Mo," _John told her, tracing circles into her palm with his thumb. "I made it through the worst of it."

Maureen Ashby shook her head. "The worst is yet to come," she argued. "They didn't get lost in the mail John. I read every single letter you sent me. I know what—"

"Everything's being taken care of,_" _John assured. "There's a lot going on but I promise—"

"_I want you to come with us."_

Two words—only five letters.

And they caused him more pain than any trauma from his accident ever could.

"I _can't."_

Maureen jumped up from the chair at his bedside. "Why the Hell not?"

"There's too much I still haven't fixed," John explained. "My family needs me."

"We _are_ your family!" Maureen shouted, pointing towards the lounge chair next to the window. John's eyes darted towards the carriage—the sleeping child tucked beneath the pink and white blankets. "_Trini needs her Da'..."_

"I'm not going anywhere Mau—"

"You missed her birthday," Maureen huffed. "Trini just turned—"

_"Of course I know," _John snapped, momentarily losing his calm composure.

Did she not know how much he loved his children? _All _of his children?

"We didn't even get to celebrate," Maureen accused, narrowing her eyes as the tears pooled at their corners. "We spent her birthday praying you'd make it through…hoping that heartless _gash _you exchanged vows with would give you enough time to recover instead of letting Clay finished—"

"Maureen—"

"KELLAN CAN'T PROTECT YOU HERE!" Maureen screamed.

One year old Trinity Ashby's eyes flew open—wailing in fear of the volume and sudden shrillness in her mother's voice.

John braced his hand against the bed, disappointment souring the pit of his stomach as he watched her mother rush towards her—quickly scooping her up into her loving embrace the way he couldn't.

Maureen bounced Trinity in her arms with as much comfort as she could muster. But the look in her eyes as she peered over at her father's forlorn expression was anything but gentle.

"You're worried about your _club_?" She hissed. "Your _brothers? _Do you even _know _who you can trust? How long until you have another _accident, _John? _Huh? _Or are you still happy to go along with all the lies Clay's been spreading about ya? _What the Hell is wrong with you? _Fuck your pride. And I don't give a _shitee _about revenge either. You need to do what's best for your family….what's best for _Me…._and _Trini…._Don't you dare choose the club that almost killed you over us."

"_Come here." _

Maureen didn't move right away.

And with every second that passed before she finally fulfilled his quiet request, John's chest felt heavier—the rage she urged him to ignore grew more palpable as he sat there, fuming over the fact that apart from his mind he was useless to those that needed him the most.

Words of wisdom—passion-filled musings about the past, or how to make a better future only did but so much.

He needed to take action.

And he couldn't do that until he was back on his feet.

And he couldn't do all that he needed to be done in Belfast.

Maureen slowly walked towards him, giving him a moment to shuffle—make room for her to join him on the hospital bed before she sat down beside him. "_I don't wanna lose you."_

"I _can't _lose you, Mo," John confessed. "….but I can't lose my son either…I love you, Maureen….and you _know _I love our daughter….but Jackson is—"

"Bring him with you," Maureen pleaded. "We can—"

"It's not that simple," John said, shaking his head. "I know it's hard but I need you to look past your fear of losing me...I want you to think about Trini….think about how you'll always put her first—"

"_John—"_

"That's the way it's _supposed _to be," John declared. "…I can't think about us….what _we _want….I have to put my children first….you and Trinity? I know Kellan will protect you. You're safe with him. But Gemma? She lost sight of what it means to truly put your child first a long time ago…_we both did. _And now I have to fix it. I know you're scared, baby. You fear for my life….but my son….._my son _is _my life…._He's the only part of my Past that I could never regret….he's the part of my Present I'm fighting for now. He's the reason I can't just pack a bag and leave. And Mo'…..as long as I'm breathing that boy is always….he's _always _going to be my future. _SAMCRO _is all he's known his whole life...I raised him in it….it's a part of him….Opie? Chibs, Piney, Bobby….every brother sitting around that table….they're his _family…._I can't just snatch that away….and I don't want to Maureen because they're _my _family, too."

"You always say _it's not that simple," _Maureen said, running her hands through the soft curls of their daughter's hair. "And normally nothing with you ever is, Darlin….but this is about you figuring out what you have to do today that keeps you alive tomorrow. You want to be around to protect your son? _You can't stay here. _He needs you better…._stronger…_we all do."

"They are _my _family," John growled, pointing at his chest. "….and I made a choice to give up the gavel…to hand over the power to a man hell-bent on destroying it for his own gain…I did what I thought was best at the time….I did it so that I _can _get better…so that I can get _stronger…_but I need you to understand, Mo. I'm not shedding the patch until every single brother I share it with is safe from the chaos I've caused."

Maureen shook her head. "You didn't do this," she argued. "You—"

"_I let it happen," _John declared. "And I'm done writing about all the shit I shouldn't have done….all the changes I _want _to make. It's time to put down the pen and take action. I have to fix this, Maureen. I _have _to. I want both my families whole again_….the one I was given and the one I chose."_

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"Good morning," Diane said, looking up from the paperwork on the counter in front of her to smile at the green-eyed brunette walking into the kitchen.

_"Good morning, _Grace," Arthur Knowles echoed.

Tara opened the fridge, briefly scanning it's shelves.

"We're out of milk," she announced. "Guess I'll be grocery shopping after school today."

"I switched shifts with Carmen," Diane said, sipping from the steaming mug in her hand. "I don't have to go in until seven so I'll go shopping before I go to work."

Tara opened the doors to the cabinet above her head.

"Add cereal to the list," she said.

_Looks like I'm having coffee for breakfast._

"I made pancakes," Diane said, walking around to join her brother at the kitchen table. "_Banana nut…_I just finished arguing with Art about you. He swears you're allergic to bananas but I know for a fact I saw you eating one the other day. So either his memory is getting a little foggy with old age or you grew out of it."

Arthur wasn't really that far off the mark—he was wrong but a tiny part of her warmed at the thought of him remembering at least some part of her childhood.

The one she'd been abruptly robbed of when her mother died.

Tara's back was facing them. That was why her father had been denied the hint of a smile threatening to spread across her face.

She was quick to shut it down, her lips assuming their earlier straight line before she turned around to glare at him.

"I would think all the Bourbon he swallowed had more to do with his shitty memory," Tara sneered, shrugging at the frown of disappointment her aunt shot her.

"There's no arguing with that," Arthur admitted, grinning sheepishly. "But at least I can say I remember enough not to give you breakfast that'll make you s—"

"_I'm not allergic to bananas," _Tara snapped. "As far as I know the only allergy I have is to morphine which _you_ would know about if you bothered to show up when my former best friend almost _killed me. _Her name is Sarah in case you forgot. And since we're on the subject _she's _the one that's allergic to bananas….mom made me a fruit cake for my fourth birthday party. Gloria forgot to mention that Sarah was allergic….after she got sick I refused to eat them because my _sister _couldn't eat them. Mom thought I was being ridiculous…they used to be my _favorite _after all…..you were the one that convinced her to stop trying to make me eat them again."

"Well he remembered you didn't like them," Diane interjected. She waved her hand towards the plate with buttered toast, scrambled eggs and bacon on the table, in front of the chair next to her father. "…That's why he made you this."

"All that _grease," _Tara said, clucking her tongue. "Fried eggs and cheese…bacon…buttered toast with jam on the side….that is _a lot_ of calories, Arthur. Didn't anybody ever tell you? No one likes a Fat Old lady—oh wait, I'm sorry. I mean _biker whore."_

"Jesus Christ, Tara." Diane smacked a hand to her forehead, sitting her fork down on the table. "Can you please sit down and have breakfast with us? You need to eat something so you can take your pills."

Tara uncrossed her arms, yanking the chair back to sit down in it.

The clinking of forks against plates and the loud, ill-mannered crunch of the bacon as she chewed it filled the strained, awkward silence.

Tara rolled her eyes when she felt Diane's foot bump against her ankle. She had a nagging feeling the kick she'd aimed wasn't meant for her. That suspicion was confirmed seconds later when Arthur cleared his throat loudly.

"I uh….I've got some news, _Gracie."_

Tara never looked up from the eggs she was pushing around on her plate.

"I _asked _you to stop calling me that," Tara grumbled.

"Right." Arthur scratched his head. "I'm sorry—"

"_You're always sorry."_

"So what's your big news?" The squeak in her voice made Diane's attempt to sound chipper all the more irritating as Tara bit into her toast, chewing to keep from screaming.

"I get my thirty day chip this weekend," Arthur announced.

"_Wonderful." _Tara's eyes widened like a cartoon character as she smiled at her father. "We should celebrate! I'll bring the _wine—"_

Diane groaned. "Tara—"

"_Whoops." _Tara clamped a hand over her mouth, ignoring the way her aunt cringed at the taunting laughter bubbling from her throat. "I forgot you can't have any of the good stuff"—she leaned over towards her aunt, holding a hand in front of her mouth as she mock-whispered, "_I guess Arthur isn't the only one with a shitty memory this morning." _

"I hope this is making you feel better," Diane said, sighing.

"It's fine, Diane," Arthur said, nodding once. "I _did _this."

"You didn't do _shit," _Tara growled. "You haven't done shit for me since mom died. _I'm_ the one that's been taking care of us. I played mommy and daddy while you got shitfaced every night and threw plates at me when your mind was too _fucked _to make the connection that I'm your daughter not the wife that—"

"You have every right to be angry—"

"YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT I DO!" Tara jumped up from her seat, shoving the table as she stood. Glasses of orange juice tipped over, her plate crashing to the floor as she glowered at the man sitting in the chair next to her. "I haven't asked you for _anything _in almost seven years. Not a _damn_ thing. And the _one _time I finally need something from you—"

Diane shook her head. "Gracie, I understand how you feel but minors aren't even supposed to—"

"Minors aren't supposed to drive themselves to their own doctor's appointments," Tara snapped. "I'm not supposed to forge my parent's signature on documents for school because my father is too hung over to remember. I could write a fuckin novel about all the things I've done that I shouldn't have to do as a _minor. _And now he wants to draw the line at _this? _This is when he decides he wants to be a parent? I'm not asking for a trip to Paris. _I just want to make sure he's okay_."

"Opie—"

"—_got to see him!" _Tara argued. "And I don't need you to tell me what he said because _I'm _the one he said it to. I want to see for _myself. _But your _brother _won't sign the papers. His probation officer said I can visit with parental consent." Tara smirked, stepping back from the table. "I don't even know why I bothered…._I don't have a parent."_

"Tara—"

"I think I hear Opie outside," Tara lied, walking out of the kitchen. "I'm going to school."

Diane's eyes darted back and forth between the corner her niece's retreating back disappeared around and the defeated expression on her brother's face until they heard the front door slam shut.

"She trusts him more than both of us right now," Arthur said quietly. "Gracie's never gonna let me in if she thinks I'm a threat to life she's been living ever since I checked out on her."

"_Young love," _Diane said, simply. "You know how it is….you and mom went through the same thing with me."

"_I think I should let her go see him_."

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

Wendy pressed her finger to the doorbell.

She leaned against the pillar, rubbing at the chill in her bare shoulders as she watched the porch swing sway forward and backwards in the early morning breeze.

She looked up as the front door opened, smiling up at the tall, handsome, blue-eyed boy standing in the doorway.

"Hey," he said. "It's _Wendy _right?"

"'Sup, _Josh," _Wendy answering, smirking. "Where's Lowell? We're gonna be late."

Joshua's eyebrows scrunched together. "He left an hour ago….said he had to take care of something before class. I thought he went to meet up with you."

"Oh."

Joshua shrugged. "He's probably already at school. Must have forgot to tell you or something."

"Thanks," Wendy said, turning to walk down the porch steps.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

Wendy tilted her head back. "Yeah?"

Joshua pulled his robe tighter around him as he stepped out onto the porch.

"It's about the girl that was with you the last time you stopped by," he said.

"You forget her name, too?" Wendy teased.

"_Of course n—_I mean, No," he answered quickly. "It's Tara….Tara _Knowles…._right?"

Wendy rolled her eyes. "I used to think your cousin was awkward until I met you…you don't have to pretend you're bad with names, Dude. We won't think you're a stalker just because you remember us. Most chicks _like _guys who have good memories….you always remember all the special occasion like Valentine's Day….anniversaries. And chicks like Tara _love _that shit."

Joshua nodded. "Is she dating anyone?"

Wendy laughed. "Little friendly advice? If I were you I'd stick to _tutoring _her. You try anything else...it'll probably be another twenty-five years before she sees her boyfriend again. But then I guess that works in your favor…them outlaws and their _prison clause _and what not."

Joshua looked confused again. "I'm sorry?"

_Not yet, Joshie._

_You will be though when the Prince finds out you're having wet dreams about his girl._

"Nothing," Wendy said. "I'll see you around."

Where the Hell was Lowell?

He'd been acting strange ever since his dad left.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

Tara felt like shoving the whistle down her throat.

"Let's go!" Coach Timmons yelled. "Move it, ladies! _Two more laps!" _She clapped her hands. "_You can do it! _I said _run _Maize not _jog! _All them high hurkies and cartwheels you do and you mean to tell me you can't run five laps around a track? _Move your ass_! Unless you want it to be get too big for your spankies! That blue and orange skirt won't hide chunky thighs!"

"I can't stand this _bitch," _Maize growled.

Tara chuckled under her breath as the two cheerleaders running behind her grumbled and complained.

"I know someone you hate more," Ima teased.

Seconds later, Tara was knocked off balance as the two of them sped up just enough to shove past her—Maize's shoulder bumping her back hard.

Instead of chasing after them, Tara stopped, leaning over—breathing heavily as she braced her hands against her knees.

_Fuck this shit, _Tara thought.

Timmons would just have to accept the excuse she gave her as she walked off the track, sitting down on the bleachers.

"You got one more lap to go, Knowles," Coach Timmons barked, rushing towards her.

_You got one more time to blow that fuckin whistle in my face._

"It's my _arm," _Tara lied. "It's starting to bother me…and my shoulder's still sore from my therapy session last night."

Coach Timmons narrowed her eyes at her, pursing her thin lips.

But eventually she walked off instead of voicing her doubts.

Tara was turning to pull her History textbook from her bag when something caught her eye on the other side of the field.

It wasn't David.

And it wasn't just the handsome, blonde-haired teenager standing next to him.

It was the fact that they were standing barely a foot apart without scowling at each other.

Standing up slowly, Tara watched as Jax held his hand out to her ex-boyfriend.

_Jax._

_JACKSON!_

He was here.

She'd have to focus on the weird exchange between the two of them later.

All she cared about in that moment was his presence.

Jax looked up at her the second she started walking.

Patting David awkwardly on his shoulder, Jax smiled—the blues of his eyes brightening more the closer the distance between them lessened.

Tara's brisk walk turning into a jog as he moved to meet her half-way—until jogging towards him wasn't enough for her.

Tara forgot all about her _sore shoulder _and how much _pain _her arm was in as she ran towards him. Jax laughed when she barreled into his chest, hooking her hands at the nape of his neck as she pulled his face down to kiss him.

"DOESN'T LOOK LIKE YOUR ARM HURTS!" Coach Timmons yelled across the field. "_YOUR SHOULDER EITHER!"_

"You milking the accident to get out of gym?" Jax teased, brushing the damp hair sticking to her face off her forehead. "Why am I not surprised?"

"What are you—what, what—_how did you_—"

Jax silenced her stammering with another kiss. Relucantly pulling away from her mouth, he kissed the bridge of her nose before whispering, "_Wait five minutes…then meet me in the locker room."_

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"_Jackson," _Tara breathed, rushing him just as she had on the field the second she stepped through the door.

Jax pulled her close, backing her against the lockers as he kissed her.

"_Hey, beautiful._"

"When did you get out?" Tara questioned, reaching up to brush her fingers against the fading scar above his eyebrow. "Are you okay? I tried to come see you but my asshole father wouldn't—"

"I'm fine, Babe," Jax assured her. "I got out last night." He chuckled at the look on her face. "I _tried, _Tara. I don't think you realize it but there's a new sheriff in town. And her name is _Diane….._she caught me trying to climb in your window. Told me you had a long day…needed your sleep…." Nudging her chin aside, he kissed her shoulder as he stared down at her arm. "Are _you _okay?"

"Therapy's working," Tara answered, nodding. "How did you—Opie said they gave you three months…"

"Turns out you and me ain't the only ones with daddy issues," Jax said, smirking. "….the douche—_uh…._David….I guess the judge pissed off the wrong kid…..he gave Gemma something her lawyer could use….Hale gave me a slap on the wrist….that's what he's _calling it _anyway…..three _weeks _instead of months but I still have to see a counselor twice a week and he gave me a _shitload _of community service."

_You wouldn't have gotten that if Mason wasn't such an asshole._

_Maybe if he got laid every once in a while he'd have less time to call in favors with his former student._

_Fuckin dinosaur._

"Are you sure you okay?" Tara asked, caressing his face. "You never wrote me back…I don't even know if—"

"You wrote to me?"

Tara nodded, frowning. "I bet it was your mother."

"Probably," Jax agreed, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. I'm fine, Tara. It wasn't the Big house, Babe. It was Juvenile Hall. _Baby booking. _No big deal."

Tara looked down at their chests. "Jax…._I have to tell you something_."

Jax sighed. "Can't we talk later?"

"No." Tara looked up, finally meeting his eyes. "We can't."

"Okay, Babe…" Jax scrubbed his hand across his face before bringing it back down to rest at her waist. "_I'm listening."_

"When they arrested you…..and then Opie told me you were….._I didn't know what to do…._Gemma wasn't gonna tell me anything…and I know Di's been whispering in Arthur's ear about you….and there's just too much going on, Jax….._LJ's Dad is missing…._him and his Mom are staying at her inlaws….Piney's been acting strange ever since your….I was _scared…_and….and—"

"Baby, everything is going to be okay," Jax told her.

"_I went to see JT," _Tara blurted. "He's awake, Jax….and he's _talking…_he still needs therapy but I swear it's like the accident never happened…._my dad's home from rehab…_.and Diane's been shoving this whole _being a family _shit down my throat ever since then….so I've been hiding out at St. Thomas…._with your dad….._when we talk…h—he….he mostly asks about you….he misses you, Jax….and I didn't ask him, _I swear. _I would never do that to you but I don't think you should believe what Kyle said. I think—"

Jax crushed his mouth against hers.

Coaxing her lips open proved easy as Tara melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck in the same instant he gripped her ass, sliding her back up the lockers—groaning against her mouth when she crossed her legs behind his back, pulling him in tighter.

He felt so good.

She'd spent the past few weeks missing his touch.

Crying herself to sleep worried he'd do something stupid—again….and that this time no one would be there to stop him…or save him.

She wanted him so bad.

Desire was a physical pain tightening her chest—knotted up her stomach as her body went to war with her mind….and her mind won.

"_Jax," _Tara moaned, weakly tugging on the golden strands of his hair as he sucked on her neck. "We need to t—"

_"I missed you so fuckin much," _Jax growled.

"I missed you, too," Tara said. It hurt like Hell to do it, but she managed to continue pushing against his chest until he finally sat her down on the floor.

"_You're not acting like it_."

Tara blinked hard. "What?"

"All you want to talk about is my father," Jax accused, glaring at her. "Or _your _father. Neither one of them give a shit about us so why the fuck are we talking about them?"

"Jax—"

"I don't wanna talk," Jax snapped. "_I didn't come here for that shit!"_

Tara folded her arms across her chest. "What did you come here for?"

"You."

"I'm right here, Jax," Tara said, holding her arms out. "If you're happy to see me you got a hell of a way of showing it."

Jax grabbed her arm, closing the gap between them as he slid her hand down to the crotch of his jeans, smirking. "I'm _very _happy to see you."

_Ugh._

Tara shoved him back. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

"You want me leave?" Jax accused, stepping back. "Fine. I'll—"

"I didn't mean that _either," _Tara hissed, narrowing her eyes. "I want you—"

"I'm right here."

Tara shook her head. "I _want _you to talk to me."

"About the weather?" Jax mocked. "About what you wore to the prom? What you said during your acceptance speech when you and _Pierce _were crowned King and Queen?" Jax wolf-whistled. "_Hot date _you had on your arm. I don't think Juvie qualifies as _jail time _but in my world there's something called a _prison clause. _I hope you had fun."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Tara's eyes ballooned. "The only reason I went is because Diane and Donna _guilted _me into going. And I didn't want to spend another night holed up in my room worrying about you….or in my living room glaring at _that man _that woke up one day and decided he wanted to be my father again."

"Here we go again," Jax fumed. "Aren't you sick of the pity parties you're always throwing yourself? Your daddy doesn't love you. _Get over it! _Stop bitchin about the same shit—"

"Fuck you," Tara spat. "You call _me _a track star? I'm not the one always running from my problems. You never wanna talk. Your solution for everything is to stick your dick in someone but _guess what? _I'm the same girl that told you no years ago….the same one that told you that I'm always here for you. I'm here to _support you, _Jax. I'm not your entertainment for the night. You need something to _amuse _yourself? Take your mind off all the shit you're too much of a pussy to deal with? Buy a_ fuckin _porn magazine! Maybe playboy will make you feel better!"

"Why buy a magazine?" Jax challenged. "There's so many other chicks around here happy to give me what you won't!"

Tara gasped—green eye's widening in disbelief. "_Get out." _

"Tara—"

"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!"

Tara turned around slowly as multiple footsteps sounded behind her.

"_I suggest you do what she said, Mr. Teller_," Coach Timmons instructed. "I don't think you want me getting the Principal involved."

"_I'm already gone_," Jax declared, glaring at Tara as he began walking backwards until he reached the threshold leading out into the basement hallway.

Tara didn't bother acknowledging the glare of disapproval her gym teacher shot her as she yelled, "TEN MINUTES, LADIES! Shampoo and soap….no conditioner…In and out. _Chop, Chop!"_

Tara pulled her tank top over her head, sliding her gym shorts down her legs. Leaning over to pull them from around her ankles, she smirked at the shadows obscuring the light on either side of her as she tugged on the laces of her sneakers.

"_Looks like that didn't last long," _Maize sneered, leaning against her locker.

"Wendy owes me fifty bucks," Ima commented, studying her nails. "And just in time…I'm overdue for a manicure."

"You should bring Tara with you," Maize joked. "That was she can get a pedicure…take care of those _flintstones _she's working with…"

"I would shove my foot down your throat," Tara said, "But I doubt there's any room with Jax's cock still in your mouth."

Maize shrugged. "Sounds like he's bored with _your_ mouth," she taunted.

"Or maybe he has more fun putting _his _to use," Tara bit back. "But then I don't have to tell you that. You and half the school saw that for yourselves. Yes, Maisey…..he really _does _do that….He _loves _doing it…..He does it to me_ all the time…._he loves it so much we get into fights because that's all he can think about doing…._"_

"_Leave her alone."_

Tara turned towards her. "Its cool, Donna. Don't even pay these bitches any mind...even the cock they're steady chasing after is bored with _them_."

Tara was reaching inside her locker for her towel when Maize shoved against it, closing it on her arm. Yanking her arm out, Tara slammed it shut, spinning around only to have her head shoved into it as Maize pushed her back.

Ignoring the throbbing in her wrist, Tara skipped straight past the scratching and hair pulling—balling up her fist, white knuckles crunching against Maize's face.

Tara shoved her over the bench, crashing to the floor on top of her. Pulling her arm back, she landed two more blows before she felt someone yanking hard on her hair. Ima beat her palm hard against the top of Tara's head until her scalp was numb to the pain. Rage made it easy to ignore as she knocked Maize's flailing arms out of the way so she could continue the onslaught of her fist.

Donna snatching Ima off of her made it even easier.

Tara saw Ima fly back into the wall dividing the bathroom from the showers, knocking the garbage can and all the discarded tampon wrappers and tissues across the locker room floor.

Donna and Ima were rolling on the floor next to them as Maize continued to struggle, unsuccessful in bucking Tara off until Coach Timmons rounded the corner, screaming at the top of her lungs.

"TARA!" The alarmed coached yelled. She pulled Tara off, standing between her and the redhead still on the floor.

The second she moved to break up the fight between Donna and Ima, Tara kicked Maize in her mouth with her bare foot—knocking her backwards before she could brace herself against the bench well enough to stand.

_How you like my Flinstones now, Bitch?_

It was truly an exercise in futility.

Coach Timmons ran back and forth between the four brawling teenagers, breaking one fight up only to switch to the other before she gave up on handling it alone.

Running out into the hall, she came back seconds later with the other sixth period gym teacher—him and a few of his students, who knew better than to follow him into the girl's locker room.

Some girls squealed running into or out of the showers and bathroom.

Some of them giggled.

Tara growled, drowning out the snarl rumbling from Donna's chest as both of them were pulled off of their respective cheerleaders.

"Jax doesn't want you!" Tara screamed as she was dragged out. "He doesn't want _any _of you! GET OVER IT, BITCHES!"

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"_Any news on the Prospect?"_

Bobby nodded stiffly. "He woke up two days ago…..Doc says he's gonna be alright."

"I spoke to Unser," Happy growled. "Made sure he let Hobart and his family know what would happen if they tried to get law enforcement involved."

"That should have never even crossed his mind," Bobby commented. "Kyle can't be half-in, half-out. He wants to be outlaw? We handle shit amongst ourselves. Simple as that."

Clay nodded once, blue eyes darting around the table—touching on every face before flitting back to the only angry expression.

Piney's.

"We're done voting this shit with Romeo," Clay declared. "Me and Bobby sit down with the Mayans tomorrow afternoon….make sure everything runs smoothly after—"

"_After those Mexi-asshole tried to blow us up?" _Piney growled. "The only deal we need to make is one that's gonna get us of this bullshit partnership you made with the Cartel."

"Piney's right," Bobby agreed. "It hasn't even been a month and we're already running out places to bury the bodies..._of our brothers._"

"This shit is getting out of hand," Kozik interjected. "…_Prez."_

No one missed the bitterness in Kozik's voice or the glare Clay shot him when he tacked on the word _Prez _as a deliberate afterthought.

"How do we feel about patching him in?" Bobby asked.

Tig shook his head. "I don't trust him."

"Me either," Happy growled. "And he got his ass handed to him by a fifteen year old. I say we tell that pussy to keep it moving."

"_Aye_." Chibs nodded in agreement.

"All the shit he's done for the club?" Clay questioned. "Y'all seriously—"

"You mean all the shit he's done for _you," _Piney corrected. "You asked. We spoke on it. Do we even have to put this shit to a vote? Your Prospect is out. Better luck next time... _Prez."_

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"Mom?"

Wendy shrugged the straps of her bag off her shoulder, dropping it on the couch as she pushed her keys in her back pocket. Looking towards the hall leading to her mother's bedroom she called out again.

"Ma!" Wendy shouted, pulling her sweater off. "Ima got suspending for fighting! I can't go over her place for dinner so….no left overs for us. But it's cool though. I got a couple bucks. We can order takeout….I kinda have the taste for Chinese anyway…._haven't had any since yesterday…." _The hum of the TV and radio increased the closer she drew to her bedroom.

Wendy took a deep breath, bracing herself for what she always found when her mom didn't respond. But as she pushed the door open, she realized that there were some things you couldn't prepare yourself to see.

Wendy's eyes ballooned. "_Lowell?"_

Courtney Case looked up from the arm outstretched in front of her.

"_Hey, baee-by," _Courtney slurred. She nodded her head towards the boy who snatched his arm out of her grasp much too late. "Your uh…your frrriend came by looking for ya…"

Wendy had already seen it—the tourniquet tied at his elbow, the needle in her mother's hand before he'd shoved it away.

"Are you fuckin kidding me, Mom?" Wendy screeched.

Lowell jumped up. "Wendy," he tried to explain. "It's not what you—I was just—"

"_Tying to follow in Daddy's footsteps?" _Wendy charged towards him, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, flinging him around as she pushed him towards the doorway she'd come from. "Your Old man's been gone a few weeks and you're ready to throw your life away because you feel _sad? _My mom's been gone all my life and _SOMEHOW _I've managed to keep the needle out of my arm!"

"You mean to tell me you've never thought about it?" Lowell spun around, bracing his hands against her shoulders. "You never wondered what it feels like? Are you seriously going to stand there and tell me you're not even a _little _curious about what they chose over us? If it really is worth turning your back on the people that love you?"

"I think about getting _the fuck _out of here," Wendy growled. "I want to be more than some junkie's daughter. Maybe I won't make it out of Charming…maybe flipping burgers to keep a roof over my head while I truck back and forth to Community college isn't worth it. _I don't know. _But unlike you I want to give a shot. I'm not giving up. You _are….._ and I only have room for one fuck up in my life."

"I'm sorry," Lowell said. "I didn't do it—"

"You were _about _to!"

"Wendy—"

"You want to self-destruct?" Wendy shrieked. "Have at it, LJ! But leave me the fuck out of it!"

"Wendy—"

"Get out!"

"Wendy—"

"WHAT?!" Lowell opened his mouth wide before clamping it shut as he wracked his brain for the rest of his sentence. Ten seconds was all Wendy gave him before she resumed pushing him towards her front door, yanking on the doorknob—shoving him into the railing of the balcony outside her apartment. "Stay the Hell away from me….._and stay away from my mom."_

_Before she brings you down with her._

Wendy kicked the door shut, twisting the lock on.

She refused to cry.

Angry tears did nothing but make her feel weak.

She slammed her fist into the wall, ignoring the pain shooting through her knuckles as she did the same with the other one—over and over until the sound of applause rang out behind her minutes later.

Wendy spun around. "Of course you're here….I forgot its check day."

"That was some show you put on," Emmanuel said. "Put all those telenovelas my abuelita likes watching to shame."

"I took her to the bank last month," Wendy said, shoving past him into the kitchen. "She direct deposits her checks now."

"Well then I guess we'll be making a trip to the ATM then, eh?" Wendy groaned in disgust as he walked behind her, rubbing his crotch against her ass. "….unless you want to work it off for her…..like you did last time."

Wendy elbowed him in his chest. "I took care of her account, too," Wendy told him. "Set it up so her check is divided between the landlord and her insurance. You can go to the ATM if you want to. There's no money for you to take out."

Emmanuel clucked his tongue. "_No, Bueno."_

"You want to know what isn't good?" Wendy snapped. "What's going to happen to you when the _SONS _find out you're dealing in Charming."

Emmanuel laughed. "How long you been threatening me with that bulllshit? Looks like JT's kid finally got tired of you anyway….too bad it looks like his replacement likes hanging with me and your mom more than you. You should stop being such a buzzkill…._join the party_."

"Just the get the fuck out."

Emmanuel smirked. "COURTNEY!"

Wendy shook her head, glaring at her mother as she stumbled into the kitchen, tripping over the stilettos on her feet as she rushed towards him—falling to the floor when he shrugged her off as she fell into him.

"Tell _hija _you'll see her later, Mami."

"No." Wendy snatched her mother behind her back, bracing her hands on the tops of her arm until she felt she was at least stable enough to stand up. "_She's not doing that shit again._ You'll get your money asshole. You have to wait a few weeks. I'll—"

"I'm not waiting for _shit,_" Emmanuel sneered. "Let's _go, _Courtney. I let you get your hit. Now it's time to—"

"I don't…d-d-don't feel so good," Courtney lied. "That shit was….something….I think something was in—"

"Stop lying _bitch!" _Emmanuel barked. "You had your fun….now it's time to pay up."

"I already told you—"

When he slapped her, Wendy fell sideways, her forehead smacking against the leg of the kitchen table. Emmanuel charged towards her mother, tripping over the foot Wendy stuck out as he reached for her arms. Wendy crawled towards him, slapping him in his face, punching his neck, clawing at every part of him with skin exposed until the force of the elbow to her face sent her flying backwards.

"LEAVE HER ALONE!"

Emmanuel ignored her, dragged her mother across the foyer—a string of Spanglish hissing past his lips as he cursed her the whole way to the front door.

"You better hang on tight, bitch," Emmanuel yelled. "You make me lay down my bike I'll kill your junkie ass. You hear me?"

"SHE'S NOT GOING WITH YOU!"

Wendy jumped on his back—her forearms pressing against his throat until he bucked her off, dropping her mother outside, on top of the WELCOME MAT.

Spinning around, he pounced on her before she could get up.

Jumping on top of her, his knees forced the air out of her lungs as he swung at her, backhanding her face until blood soiled the brass rings on his hands.

Footsteps pounded outside the apartment.

Susan Handy, their next door neighbor had come running—yet again.

"Get the Hell off of her," Susan yelled, hitting him over the head with the pan in her hand. "You oughta be ashamed of your—"

"MOM, NO!"

Wendy didn't move fast enough, staring in horror as her mom yanked Susan back by her hair, tossing her aside—defending the man dragging her away instead of her daughter.

Instead of _protecting _her daughter.

Susan came crashing down on top of her, adjusting the wig on hanging off her head as they watched Emmanuel guide her mother down the steps, sitting on his motorcycle—adjusting Courtney's arms around his waist before pulling off from the curb.

Her well-meaning neighbor gently pulled her blonde hair back, out of her face as Wendy leaned over—spilling the contents of her stomach all over her living room rug.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

Jax swaggered into the clubhouse, nodding his head up at the croweater manning the bar as he made his way towards the pool table.

"What's up, Bro?"

Opie looked up—the smile on his face freezing, the laughter in his voice choking off.

Jax smirked. "You miss me?"

"Not as much as you think," Opie answered, walking towards him—clapping his back as they hugged. "Who gave you the black eye? I want to send him a fruit basket."

The girl standing next to him giggled.

"You two act like this all the time?"

"I've never seen you around here before," Jax commented.

"I'm _Chastity," _she announced. "I'm Katherine's cousin."

Jax nodded, smiling. "You look like her."

"Is that a bad thing?" Chastity cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Not a bad thing at all, Darlin'," Jax told her, chuckling. "Me and Katy are good friends you know. We have a very close relationship. She shakes me down…confiscates my weed so her boss can smoke it and then she reminds me I'm too young for her every time she gets close to giving in to my charms."

"You're right," Chastity said. "I guess I just really didn't think a person's head could be that _big."_

Opie snickered. "Told ya."

Jax rolled his eyes. "You always turn the new girls against me, Ope," he teased. "Hopefully your new girl will warm up to me faster than Donna did."

Chastity giggled. "New girl? _Ha._"

Both her and Jax's smiles faltered when they noticed the sudden scowl on his face.

"Tara got suspended today," Opie said, glaring at him. "Ima and Maize jumped her in the locker room."

"_Shit," _Jax hissed. "Is she okay?"

"Like you give a fuck!"

"Ope—"

"She's _fine," _Opie answered. "Donna was there. She had her back."

Jax nodded. "She get suspended, too?"

"I don't know," Opie grumbled, walking away. "Not like she talks to me."

"What the Hell happened with you two?" Jax asked, following behind him as he made his way down the hallway. "And why the Hell are you mad at _me?"_

"Not everything is about you, Bro," Opie snapped. "Just leave it alone."

"I _been _leaving it alone, Bro," Jax argued. "Enough with this shit. Tell me what's going on? Is this about Sarah? I already apologized for what I said—"

"Maybe it's not about what you said," Opie growled, spinning around to glare at him. "Maybe it's about what you _didn't _say."

Jax's eyebrows threaded together. "The fuck you talking 'bout?"

"Just forget it!"

Jax shook his head. "I'm sick of—"

_"Jax?"_

Both their heads jerked towards the doorway where Chastity stood, gray eyes wide as she stared at them in alarm.

"What's wrong?" Opie asked, as both him and Jax immediately rushed towards her.

As soon as they started walking, Chastity spun around rushing back down the hallway as she gushed, "I don't what happened….they said I can't call my cousin…she doesn't want the cops involved—"

"JESUS CHRIST!" Jax yelled.

"Opie!" Tara shrieked. "_Where the Hell is Piney?_"

Jax rushed towards her—he rushed towards _them._

He grabbed Tara's face, angling her chin up to get a better look at the bruise purpling her chin, the gash above her eye—with only a moment to take it all before she shoved his hands away, wide green eyes flitting towards the sixteen year old girl leaning against her as she held her side.

"What the fuck happened?" Opie barked, helping Tara guide her over to the couch.

"I really think I should call my cousin," Chastity urged. "She can—"

"NO!" Wendy exclaimed. "No cops! I'm ready to talk, Jax. I'm ready to tell the club what's been…I need to tell them because she...she…she can't keep doing—she can't keep letting him do this to her…"

"Who's doing what to who?" Tara asked, nodding her thanks as she accepted the wash cloth the heavily tattooed woman handed her.

"What should I do here, Prince?" the woman asked, eyes flitting between the group of teenagers in the bar with her.

Jax either didn't hear or he ignored the question.

Tara had a nagging feeling it was the latter.

"You know where the first Aid Kit is?" she asked.

"Baby girl, she's gonna need more than a couple bandaids," the woman answered. "I can either call Chibs or call Gemma….I gotta call somebody."

"Call, _Chibs_!"

"Call, _Gemma!_"

Opie and Wendy answered at the same time.

Tara shook her head, kneeling down in front of Wendy. "You need to go to the ER."

Wendy shook her head. "I'll be fine," she said, twisting her swollen jaw. "I don't think anything's broken."

"Wendy—"

"_What the Hell happened, Wendy?" _

Wendy looked up at the murderous expression peering down at her—brown eyes locked with a stormy blue as she nodded once, knowing he knew the answer before she opened her mouth to speak.

"I fucked up, Jax," Wendy explained. "I thought if she didn't have the money he'd stop selling to her but now…now he's…..and I tried to stop him but this…t-this time she…."

"They still at the house?" Jax questioned.

Tara stood up. "Who's at what house? _Wendy's _house?"

Jax ignored her. "Where are they?"

Wendy shook her head. "I don't know," she answered. "They left before I….but I guess they're probably—Jax? Wait, no…Jax you can't just—wait for Pine—_wait for the club!"_

"Where are you going?" Tara yelled.

"Jax!" Opie yelled. "Wait for the Club—"

"Why the Hell is everyone scream—"

Donna backed against the clubhouse door as Jax charged past her, taking off across the lot.

"Oh _shit," _Donna gasped, blue-green eyes ballooning as they zeroed in on Wendy's battered face. "_What the Hell happened to you?_"

"Where's he going, Wendy?" Opie urged.

"There's this bar a couple blocks from my house," Wendy stammered. "It used to be a _Nord _hangout spot but now it's…it's….he drove me there to get my mom one time after she—"

"_Call Pop_," Opie instructed, brushing past a gaping Tara. "Ask Belle for the number."

"Who the fuck is Bell?" Tara barked.

"That would be me, sweet cheeks," Bellamy answered. "I called Chibs….called Gemma, too. Wait, _where the Hell did Jax go?"_

"Opie!" Tara ran after him—Donna and Chastity trailing behind her as she followed him across the parking lot. "Where the Hell are you—_Jax?" _

They all watched as Jax peeled out of the parking lot on the bike that was supposed to be Kyle's.

"_Jackson!_" Tara yelled.

"What the Hell is going on, Opie?" Donna asked.

"Call Piney!" Opie demanded, jogging towards the pickup truck.

"Opie—"

"NOW, DONNA!" Opie bellowed, spinning around—pointing towards the clubhouse. "You know the number! Call him and tell him Jax is in trouble! He's at the _Hairy Dog! _Hurry up!"

Opie was headed around to the driver's side of the truck when he saw Tara pulling on the handle to the driver's side.

Opie rushed towards her, brushing her hand away.

"Go back inside, Tara," Opie said. "Help Chaz and Donna with—"

"No," Tara argued. Shoving him away from the door she yanked it open. "I'm coming with you."

"No," Opie argued, pushing the door shut. "You're _not. _We're wasting time—"

"_You're _wasting time—"

Opie scowled. "You need to listen to what I'm—"

"Kiss my ass, Opie." Tara shoved him backwards. "You're not the boss of me, asshole. You ain't wearing a patch on your chest either and even if you had one I'm not your fuckin Old lady."

"Tara—"

"I'M FUCKIN GOING WITH YOU!"

"FINE!" Opie screamed. He pulled the door open, all but shoving her inside. He grumbled and cursed the whole trip to the other side of the truck. "_You stubborn pain in the ass….never listen when someone's trying to…_" Opie pulled his door shut, peeling out of the lot without even bothering with his seatbelt. "You're staying in the truck, Tara. I'm not kidding. I'll cuff your ass to the fuckin steering wheel if I have to."

Tara smirked, rolling her eyes. "Unser's lending out Police equipment, too now?"

"_Shut the Hell up."_

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"Piney, we gotta go, brutha," Chibs said, snapping the phone in his hand shut. "Belle just called. Says Jackie boy's in trouble. He's run off after some Mexi-banger named Manny...Ope's following him."

"Shiteee," Padraic hissed.

"What the fuck happened?" Piney barked. "I swear to God if anything happens to my son because of this Cartel bull—"

Chibs shook his head. "It's the _Mayans."_

"What's the fuckin difference?" Kozik barked. "Come on boys….looks like it's shit-kickin' time."

"I'M IN!" Happy growled.

"Jackie's friend Wendy's at Reaper now," Chibs explained. "Gemma's on her way. Sounds like she got tuned up pretty good."

Piney sighed, throwing his leg over his bike—revving it up.

He cast a final glance towards the brightness seeping through the windows of St. Thomas hospital before peeling out of the lot behind his brothers, accelerating until he was riding in front of them—racing towards his boys.

Their secret meeting with John would have to wait.

Right now JT's boy needed him—and so did _his _son.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

Jax yanked the door open, stalking inside the dimly lit bar—scanning the room until he found who he was looking for.

Whatever sly remark Emmanuel "Manny" Vasquez opened his mouth to make never made it off his tongue as Jax snatched the pool stick leaning against the wall, swinging at his face—a loud crunch rippling through the air as he hit the floor.

Jax kept swinging—wielding the stick like a baseball bat, smashing against every bone, every shred of cartilage in his sight as Manny twisted left and right on the bar floor. Emmanuel threw his hands up—one covering his face while he moved his other arm to shield the crown of his head.

Snarling, Jax adjusted his grip on the pool cue as she angled the stick like a spear. Emmanuel howled in agony as the thin wood, pierced through the crotch of his jeans, slicing through the part of his anatomy that made him a man.

Bored with twisting the wood as he cried out in pain, Jax yanked the stick away from his groin, tossing it aside as he grabbed him up by his shirt—throwing him hard against the wall.

The double-doors leading to the backroom flew open.

And what he saw momentarily gave him pause.

Jax shook his head—sneering in disgust at the woman on the bed in the center of the room.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

Opie yanked the keys out of the ignition.

Tara immediately pulled on the handle, opening the passenger side door—glaring at him as Opie leaned over her, yanking it shut.

"Stay here, Tara," Opie instructed, his voice gentler than before.

Tara shook her head. "I told you—"

Tara flinched when he abruptly slammed his hand against the dashboard, the tiny compartment in front of her dropping open. She gasped—green eyes widening as she watched him pull a gun from inside of it.

"_Please, _Tara," Opie begged. He nodded towards the prepaid cell phone still in the compartment. "Call the cops if you want to….but you gotta stay here."

"Opie—"

"I can't leave my brother in there," Opie urged, shaking his head. "But I don't want my…..look I don't want you hurt, Okay?"

The kiss he pressed to her cheek caught off guard.

Tara sat there frozen—absently watching as Opie ran across the street, pulling the front door to the bar open, quickly disappearing inside.

She could count on one hand how many times Opie _hugged _her.

But kiss her on her cheek?

Piney, sure.

But not Opie.

Opie pulled her hair and called her _Crash-test Dummy._

What the Hell was going on with him?

Did he feel closer to her suddenly because he found out their parents used to sneak around behind their spouses back?

Was this because of Donna?

Tara didn't have long to think about it.

The rumbling of motorcycles sounded—shaking the ground as they came from both sides of the street.

Mayans on one end.

SAMCRO on the other.

Tara reached inside the dashboard comparemtn for the cell phone, dialing three numbers before pressing send.

Call the cops if she _wanted _to?

Hell fuckin yeah, she did.

Shit like this was only entertaining when she watched it from the comfort of her living room couch—or at the movie theatre.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"YOU'RE A FUCKIN WHORE!"

Jax ignored the four men sliding away from the bed—completely oblivious as they bent towards the floor, reaching for the guns and knives attached to their jeans—in the shoulder holsters they'd tossed aside along with their clothes.

"I DON'T KNOW WHY WENDY PUTS UP WITH YOUR SHIT! YOU DON'T DESERVE HER!"

Courtney Case pulled the sheet from the bed, swaddling around her naked body—staring blankly at the teenage boy screaming at the top of his lungs.

"YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT HER! YOU'RE SUPPOSE TO BE THERE FOR HER! BUT INSTEAD OF BEING A MOTHER YOU'RE SHOOTING SHIT INTO YOUR ARM! LETTING THESE FUCKIN WETBACKS RUN A TRAIN ON YOU!"

Somewhere to the left of him, a gun clicked.

"DO YOU EVEN CARE ABOUT HER AT ALL? DO YOU EVEN _LOVE_ YOUR DAUGHTER?"

Several others followed just as Opie stormed into the room, raising the glock in his hand—aiming it at the first Mayan he saw soon as he stepped inside.

"Jax." Opie hooked an arm around him, pulling against his chest. "Let's go, Bro. You made your point. We gotta—"

"You're a little old to being playing lone ranger," Emmanuel sneered, spitting blood on the floor as his crew aimed their weapons at the two of them.

"YOU SHOULD JUST OVERDOSE AND DIE! DO HER A FAVOR! SHE SHOULDN'T HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF YOU! YOU GOT THIS SHIT ALL TWISTED, YOU STUPID BITCH! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF _HER—"_

"Jax—"

"_Instead you leave her all alone," _Jax choked out, sobbing. "You never choose _her….._you're suppose…you're supposed to be there….real…..real parents don't leave their kids. _REAL PARENTS DON'T LEAVE THEIR KIDS!"_

"Where you think you're going?"

Opie glared at the two men stalking towards him as he backed out of the room.

Sweat dripped down his face as he swallowed every ounce of fear creeping into his bones as he stared after the five guns pointed at them, forcing it out of his voice when he spoke.

"This is John Teller's son you're pointing your guns at," Opie grunted out, tugging an unresponsive Jax behind him. "You sure you want do this? How would your boss feel about you gunning down the Prince of SAMCRO?"

"You assholes barge into _my _place of business and you think you can scare me because of who stuck his dick in your mother?"

_"He's not threatening you," _Piney barked from the doorway. "He's giving you something me and my brothers aren't so eager to give. _Fair warning."_

"Put the guns down," Kozik demanded as he raised his own higher. "Do it now and you might get to keep breathing."

Chibs nodded stiffly.

Both him and his nephew Padraic drawling out a noncommittal, "_Aye," _as Happy stepped forward making his feelings clear when he raised his arm, slamming the pistol in his hand against the unsuspecting face of the Mayan Prospect closest to him.

"Ten seconds," Bobby declared. "Then everybody dies."

"And we blow this shit hole off the map," Kozik finished.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"It's all my fault," Wendy cried. "I didn't think it would get this bad….and I came here to talk to the club…I was ready to tell them what was hap—happening….I didn't mean for Jax—"

_"Hush_," Gemma urged, dabbing at the cut slicing through her cheek. "It's not your fault, Baby. Jackson's gonna be okay."

"And so are you," Donna said, rubbing her shoulder.

Gemma looked up at the pint-sized teenager—smiling her appreciation.

"_Forgive him_," Gemma said, dropping the blood-stained gauze in her hand inside the plastic bag on the chair. "He's a _boy…._Young and dumb and full of cum…..they all are….and as much as I'd like to say it's _at this age _I know from experience that they never really do grow up. _Grown men_ are no different when it comes to relationships. They don't know what the Hell they want….they spend half their lives chasing their tails until the finally find a woman who can tell them what they _need."_

Donna looked down at the floor as color flooded her cheeks. "It's on me this time, Gemma…._I'm the one that needs forgiving."_

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"Are you okay, Baby?" Gemma asked, squeezing his chin between her fingers as she studied his face, olive eyes scanning him head-to-toe.

Jax brushed her hands away. "I'm fine, Ma," he said, reaching for the glass on the dining room table in front of him.

"You sure?"

Jax rolled his eyes. "Yeah."

"_Good._" Gemma drew her hand back, slapping the taste of his mouth. "_Don't you _ever _scare me like that again! _ Riding off like you're a one man fuckin army. _What the fuck were you thinking?"_

Jax jumped up. "I was thinking I'm tired of some crank pushing asshole beating on a sixteen year old girl! _That's _what the fuck I was thinking!"

"Are you out of your goddam mind?"

"They could have killed you, Jax," Clay said, drawing the attention of both Teller's as he stood up from the wall he'd been leaning against. "I understand you wanting to look out for your friend. Ain't no shame in that. When people get jammed up in this town they come to _us. _That means something to everyone standing in this room with you. But you gotta be smart about it, Son."

"Stop calling me _son,_" Jax bellowed. "I have one father motherfucker and it's not you!_"_

"Jackson—"

"It's okay, Gem—"

Jax nodded, smiling at his mother. "Yeah," he agreed. "It's _okay, _Gem. Let your son lash out….let him do whatever the Hell he wants to do….and maybe next time I go commando the club won't show up in time. Then I'll be dead for real instead of broken up and useless like your husband—"

"Jackson—"

Jax whipped around, glaring a hole into the President's patch sown into Clay's vest.

"I hear congratulations are in order," Jax sneered. "My Old man gave up the gavel you've been gunning for ever since his accident...at least now you don't have to pretend you weren't wishing he would die—"

"That's enough, Son," Piney urged, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Clay sighed. "I know you're hurting, Son—"

"STOP CALLING ME SON!"

Jax charged at him, punching him in the face—growling against the wall when Clay spun him around, slamming his face hard against it as he pinned his arms behind his back.

"CLAY!" Gemma screeched.

"I know you're in pain, Jackson," Clay growled. "….but my patience is running real thin, _Son. _If tonight is the night you're ready to be a man I'll treat you like one... That first punch is the only free one you're getting..._we clear?"_

_"Get the fuck off of me," _Jax grumbled, his words muffled against the wall.

The second Clay released him, he pushed SAMCRO's President aside, snatching the whiskey bottle on the counter before barreling up the stairs—slamming his bedroom door behind him.

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Neither one of them spoke the whole ride home.

Diane dropped her keys on the kitchen table, pulling the strap of her work bag over her head.

"I got a call this afternoon," Diane said. Tara paused at the threshold leading out in the hallway that led to her bedroom. "Your guidance counselor says you got suspended for a week….for fighting in the locker room after gym."

"They started it," Tara said. "Maize and Ima tried to jump me. I'd probably be back in the hospital if Donna wasn't there."

Diane nodded, her frown deepening. "Witnesses said you were fighting over Jax…..said you were screaming about him…..and your gym teacher says you were arguing with him just a few minutes before the fight broke out."

"I'm tired, Di," Tara lied. "Can you get to the point so I can go to bed?"

_I don't want him to think I changed my mind._

"I had to leave my shift early to pick you up from the police station," Diane said. "Getting detention for having sex in a closet at school—"

"We weren't having—"

"—fighting in the locker room….. and picking you up from a precinct….theirs only two common denominators. _You…._and _Jackson."_

"Wendy got hurt," Tara argued. "He was just trying to look out for her. Things got a little out of—"

"A _little?" _Diane's eyebrows rose. "Jesus, Gracie. You could have been hurt. Or _worse…_you could have died. How do you think that would make me feel? How would your—"

"Oh I _know _you aren't about to bring up that asshole who couldn't even show up to make sure I wasn't _dead _when Sarah crashed into me," Tara snapped. "Where is Mr. _Father of the Year _anyway?"

"He went to a meeting," Diane answered.

Tara smirked. "Right."

"I know he's got a lot to make up for," Diane said. "And I know I haven't been around—"

Tara rolled her eyes. "This shit is getting old really fast, Di."

"_You're only fifteen years old," _Diane shrieked. "You need boundaries! _Both_ of you do! And if Gemma's not going to give him any I need to—"

"You wanna know what _you _need to do?" Tara hissed. "You need to remember that I didn't come out of _your _vagina! Stop trying to play mother. _You're seven years too late. _I've been fine taking care of myself before you showed up…_and_ before Arthur decided to finally put down the bottle."

"Tara—"

"I'M NOT YOUR DAUGHTER!" Tara screamed. "_What I do with Jackson is none of your goddamn business! _You want to be a mother so badly? Have your own fuckin kid! Maybe if you stop chasing your husband away he can knock you up. That way when we he's finally sick of what an overbearing bitch you are you can live off his child support checks. Knowing how loaded he is you should have more than enough to feed your child _and_ amuse yourself with all those eight hundred dollar handbags you like to buy!"

Diane spun around—back facing Tara as she braced herself against the table.

She didn't move fast enough.

Tara had already seen the tears welling up in her eyes.

And facing the wall couldn't block out the sob bubbling up her throat—nor did it blind Tara, stopping her from seeing as she swiped the sleeve of her sweater under her eyes.

"Di," Tara said, slowly walking towards her. "I'm sorr—"

Diane snatched her keys off the kitchen table, slamming the front door shut behind her as she ran outside, getting into her car.

She was already pulling out of the driveway before it dawned on Tara that with Diane gone she couldn't sneak out and drive her car to meet Jax at the park like she promised.

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_BAM. BAM. BAM._

"Coming," Duncan said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he walked through the hallway.

_BAM. BAM. BAM._

"I'M COMING!" Duncan pressed his face to the peep hole, blue eyes widening as he stepped back, quickly opening the door to the Penthouse suite.

"Dee?"

"_I hate her," _Diane shrieked, tears streaming down her face. "I hate her and I never even met her."

"What happened, Dee?" Duncan trailed behind her as she rushed past him. "Diane—"

"I hate that she gave you the one thing I couldn't."

Duncan pulled her towards him, gripping her waist as he brushed at the tears dangling from her bottom lashes. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does," Diane argued. "She's—"

"_Not you," _Duncan implored. "She's not you, Dee. I love _you. _And I love my daughter, too. I will never regret her. The only thing I regret is not trusting you to stand by me if I told you."

"You were right," Diane admitted. "If I'd known about her…about _them…._I don't think I could have stayed with you."

_That's why I lied._

_I didn't want to lose you._

"It doesn't matter," he repeated.

"But what if she told you before we—what if she….would we even—"

Duncan shook his head. "She told me two months before our wedding," he confessed. "I'm so sorry for lying to you, Babe. I knew it was selfish but I didn't care. It took me…._so long _to get you to let me in….I didn't want you to shut me out again…I couldn't risk you walking away so I hid the truth from you. And I know it was wrong…..but I knew I had a two year old daughter _before _you walked down the aisle. It didn't change anything. I love my daughter. Violet means everything to me….And I'm sorry you're not her mother but I can't change that. You want to adopt? Find a surrogate? Foster? There's so many other ways. You changed your mind? You don't want Children? That's okay, too. I'll always love you regardless. I _never _gave up on us starting a family together. I just didn't want you to feel like it was all or nothing. I will apologize….until I'm blue in the face. But you gotta let me back in, Dee. You wouldn't still be so angry if you didn't still love me….._and it's not your fault._"

"I'm sorry I can't give—"

"_It's not your fault…" _Duncan kissed her forehead. "…._it's not your fault…" _He kissed the bridge of her nose, kissed both of her tear-stained cheeks. "What happened was _not _your fault…"

Diane wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her face against his chest.

"I love you," she whispered. "…..but I can't go to San Diego."

"I know."

"Tara—"

"I know, Babe," Duncan said. "….I….I hired a realtor…."

Diane pulled back. "What?"

"I checked out a few houses," Duncan admitted, grinning sheepishly. "….It was just in case…_plan B…_I figured I might have to wait it out…stick around until your niece finished high school before I could convince you to leave."

Diane crossed her arms. "You see anything you like?" she taunted, narrowing her eyes.

"The nicest place I saw so far was this mansion a couple blocks away from your brother's house," Duncan. "The owners are going through a divorce….sounds like it's getting pretty nasty….might even end up getting it for a fraction of the price if his wife gets her way. I think her husband's a county judge. You heard of _Hale Manor?"_

Diane nodded. "Tara's ex-boyfriend's family," she answered.

"Damn." Duncan frowned. "How do you think she'd feel about living in her ex's house?"

"_Whoah_." Diane held her hand up. "Slow down. You're—"

"Relax," Duncan said, grinning. "I'm just throwing some ideas around. We can talk about it later…with Tara, too. I'd like to meet her if you don't mind. I don't think I left the best impression when you kicked me out ten seconds after she saw me."

"_Sorry."_

Duncan smirked. "….._You can always make it up to me…"_

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"_You didn't show up."_

Tara looked up from the novel in her lap, towards the boy climbing into her open window. "Diane left….took her car with her."

Jax nodded, kicking his sneakers off before climbing on the bed—sitting down next to her.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Jax said.

Tara sat the book down on her nightstand, turning towards him.

"You really want to make it up to me?" When Jax nodded, she reached a hand towards him, caressing his face. "_Go see your father."_

Jax cringed. "Tara—"

"He didn't try to kill himself, Jackson," Tara argued. "I _know_ he didn't. He wouldn't do that to you."

Jax shook his head. "I saw the accident report," he said. "My mom—"

"_She's sleeping with Clay."_

Jax blinked hard. "What?"

"I didn't want to tell you," Tara admitted, begging him with her eyes to hear her out instead of getting angry. "Your dad was barely hanging on…you were barely keeping it together….I didn't want to cause you any more pain."

"What are you talking about, Babe?"

"The night of the accident," Tara said. "The _accident, _Jax. Not _suicide attempt…._when Opie showed up I was headed towards the staircase…headed home…I was trying to decide which one was closer to the main lobby when the Nurse saw me standing there. I must have look confused…..she thought I was looking for the hospital Chapel. _I wasn't…._but then I decided to go there….say a prayer for your Dad….I know it didn't do much for my mom but I had to at least try, you know?" Jax nodded, squeezing the hand laced in his gently. "…..when I first walked in they didn't even notice I was there….Gemma was crying…..she kept saying _no more….no more, Clay…"_

"No more what?"

Tara shook her head. "I don't know Jax," she answered. "I just know whatever it was it had to do with you….she was crying about you….about how I was getting between her and her son….that's when Clay kissed her….and…_and it didn't look like the first time_…" Jax's nostrils flared, the rage flashing in his eyes nearly stealing the breath she need to speak. "…..that's not all, Jax…there's something else….._I'm really scared, Jax…."_

"Whatever it is you can tell me, Tara."

"I dropped LJ off at the garage that night before Sarah's party," Tara confessed. "….the only reason I even came back was because he left his phone in the car. I walked on the lot to give it to him….and that's when we heard them arguing….It was Clay and LJ's dad….Lowell sounded so _scared…_and angry...Clay was angrier….he kept telling him he had to do something…I don't know what it was but he….he…._he threatened him,_ Jax. I heard it. We both did. Clay threatened to hurt LJ and his mom if his father didn't do something for him…..I got no idea what's going on….all I know is something isn't right, Jackson. Your father getting hurt? Your mom sleeping with his best friend behind his back? Lowell missing? It can't be a coincidence. All I know for sure is that you can't let what Kyle said stop you from fixing things with your father...Kyle's a prospect right?"

Jax nodded stiffly. "He _was."_

"Clay's the one that signed him up?"

Jax's smile almost looked proud. "_Yeah. _Every prospect has a sponsor….Clay was Kyle's."

Tara nodded. "And Unser takes orders from whoever is in charge, right?"

Jax's smile vanished—a scowl taking its place. "Right."

"I don't know all how the club works," Tara admitted. "But in the army soldiers don't usually trust the guy who doesn't have the will to live. Soldier's that attempt suicide are usually discharged…sometimes even dishonorably if their actions threaten the lives of others..."

"Clay's the only one who had something to gain from lying about my father's accident," Jax said, glaring. "…he probably tried to scare Lowell into lying for him….going along with the _accident report _Unser wrote up so that everyone would think my Old man was….that he—_that asshole is dead."_

"No!" Tara shrieked. "That's why I didn't wanna tell you!"

Jax brushed her hair back. "I can't just do nothing, Babe."

"We should tell Piney," Tara stammered. "Tell your dad, too. Let them—"

Jax leaned towards her, brushing his lips against hers. "_I love you."_

Tara smiled, tears shining in her eyes. "Then show some _fuckin _appreciation," she said. "….don't do anything to make my heart stop."

Jax chuckled, brushing her tears away. "I won't."

Tara placed a hand against his chest. "_My _heart," she clarified. "….I don't want it to stop."

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Jax lost track of time.

There was no way of knowing how long he stood there, staring at the foot of his bed before he finally spoke.

_"I'm glad you're not dead."_

JT chuckled lightly. "Me, too."

"I'm happy you're not a vegetable either."

JT nodded. "You always hated them as a kid."

It was Jax's turn to smile.

"You used to scrape them from my plate onto yours when Gemma wasn't paying attention."

JT nodded. "Guess the bad parenting started early, huh?"

"_Maybe."_

"There's a lot of things we need to talk about," John Teller told him. "And I promise you, we will, Son but I need you to know that I'm always gonna be here for you…I'll be right here as long as I'm still breathing. _I love you, Jackson_. And I'm sorry for ever making you question that."

Jax turned towards him slowly. "_I love you, Dad_," he choked out, several minutes later.

When he'd finally said the words, Jax watched as his father did something he hadn't seen him do since his little brother died.

John Teller was crying.

And this time, his son cried with him.

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**Monster-sized chapter.**

**How about some monster-sized feedback?**

**FYI...the **28th** is my one-way ticket back to the reality that is **SCHOOL. **I may or may not have time to squeeze another chapter or two out before then. **

**I'd like to hear your thoughts on this one first though.**

**[ 13,000 ** (OMG) **monster**ful words.**]**

**|REVIEW|**


	65. Chapter 58

**A/N: **You'll have to forgive the hastiness of this chapter. I've been **so **anxious to get to the events in the chapter **after **this one that I kinda lost my patience and rushed lol. If I ever write another SOA fanfic I'm doing either **action **or **romance. **Doing both is a pain in the ass lol

Hopefully it still reads okay.

**\- Veritable Old LADY Crow**

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_"When did this happen?"_

Tara looked over at Jax. He squeezed her hand, nodding once before leaning forward to whisper in her ear. "_It's okay, Babe_."

"It was the night of JT's accident," Tara told him. Her answering smile was strained when Jax kissed her shoulder, as he lightly brushing his thumb across her knuckles.

Piney Winston's eyes flitted back and forth between the angry expression on his Godson's face and the look of worry in the emerald eyes of the teenage girl sitting on his lap.

What reason did they have to make up stories?

He couldn't think of a single one.

"Clay's a _fuckin snake,"_ Jax barked. "He used my Old man's accident to steal the gavel from him. I may not be a patch yet but I know what happens when people use your name and the word _suicide_ in the same sentence in the MC world. People lose respect for you…people don't trust you anymore."

"Who else knows about this?" Piney looked at Tara. "Did you tell your aunt?"

Tara shook her head. "Only Jax….._and now you."_

"I wanted to tell JT first," Jax admitted. "Tara thought we should talk to you. With my dad being in the hospital, he probably doesn't know everything that's going on. All he has to go on is what people tell him…._and it's not like he can trust my mom to tell him anything."_

Piney's eyebrows rose. "What makes you say that?"

Jax scowled. "Nothing," he lied. "We just think you could help us find the evidence to support what Tara and Lowell heard….we think it might even help with his Dad…..he's still missing right?"

"Last I heard he went off on another bender and Barbara kicked him out," Piney said. "She hasn't seen him since then. That wasn't hard to believe before but now that I'm hearing about him being mixed up with Clay I have a feeling drugs ain't the issue."

Tara's eyes widened—fear saturating all the shades of green. "You don't think Clay did something to him do you? _God, _I hope not."

"It's good you told me," Piney said, grinning over at Jax. "You should listen to Encyclopedia Knowles all the time. Might do you some good."

Tara rolled her eyes, something that resembled mirth twitching the corners of her mouth.

But Jax didn't crack a smile.

"Why did my Dad give up the gavel?" Jax questioned. "Does the rest of the club believe the rumors? Did they—"

"The Sons of Anarchy Redwood Original only has _one _President," Piney said, standing up. "He might be walking on four legs right now but he's still our Prez. His brothers are always going to have his back. Clay thinks that President's patch makes him King. _It doesn't."_

Jax shook his head. "Then why?"

"Did you go see your Old man yet?"

"Yeah." Jax nodded, kissing the back of Tara's hand when he felt her squeeze his in support. "We just came from St. Thomas when we heard you pull up."

"We didn't want to wait to tell you," Tara said. "Even if it didn't change anything...you know….with his dad and him being President….I just don't think he deserves for people to think that about him. Clay and Kyle….they could have ruined things with Jax and his Dad…_who the Hell does that?_"

_We, we, we...when the Hell did this _we _start happening? _Piney thought, swallowing his smile as he observed the two teenagers in front of him.

_Guess you had to pull your head out of your ass some time, Kid._

"He'll get what's coming to him, Baby girl," Piney promised. "I'll make sure of that."

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Bobby Womack hummed through the radio—filling the strained silence during the ride up to the cabin. Once they'd arrived, Wendy spent the first fifteen minutes watching her work. Every move she made—every action she took clearly practiced.

"You used to be a Nurse or something?" Wendy asked.

Gemma looked up at her, a wry smile spreading across her face as she tucked the sheets around her mother. Adjusting the pillows behind her head, she pushed a small garbage pail next to the bedside where Courtney Case laid on her side, gone to the world around her as she slept off her latest hang over.

"You'll have to color me impressed if you were," Wendy added when her question was met with silence. "It must have been Hell going to school for a Nursing in degree in between being Mrs. Badass Biker chick."

Gemma smiled. "I could never be a nurse," she replied. "I don't think those ugly scrubs would do much for my figure."

Wendy smirked. "I don't know about you but I can make anything work."

"I've got some experience weaning Junkies off whatever shit's got them hooked," Gemma explained. "You'd be surprised how many patches spent some time in this bed…..I even helped LJ's dad out both times he got clean."

_Too bad your efforts were as pointless then as they are now._

"You really are the Matriarch, huh." Wendy smirked. "Mother hen clucking after all her little chicks."

"I always do what I can for my family," Gemma stated proudly. "That's what it means to be first lady."

Wendy nodded, looking towards the windows. "Yeah."

"You know this is only a temporary fix, right?" Wendy felt the bed dip as Gemma moved to sit next to her. "…I can get her through detox but she's gonna need rehab."

"Right." Wendy's laughter was the epitome of bitterness. "Unless she plans on working a corner to pay for it she's not going. But then I doubt she'd object to spending the night with a few _John's _looking for some outside action that their wives won't give them. At least I know she has a backup career. She'll probably lose the shitty part-time job she had after this."

Gemma rubbed her shoulder. "Jackson told me what happened. I know it's fucked up, sweetheart but I'm happy at least _you _didn't have to see her like that."

"Knowing what she was doing is more than enough. _Trust me." _Wendy stood up from the bed. "It's like I can't win for losing. Every time I'm heading in the right direction _Typhoid Courtney_ has to shit on everything. I'm finally back on track in school right now. Hell, I even managed to get into AP English with Nerdvana and all the other geeks. I'd probably be in advanced Spanish, too if I didn't miss the final last year because of her."

Gemma's eyebrows scrunched together. "What the Hell is a Nerdvana?"

Wendy actually cracked a smile. "_Tara." _Her smile widened, a giggle bubbling from her throat when Gemma's expression went from one of confusion to one of annoyance. "A lot of bad blood between y'all…..I used to think she was a stuck up Bitch….Jax even told me she _was _one the first day we hung out…..he'd just lost his brother and Tara just blew him off...I couldn't wrap my head around how she could do that if she actually gave a shit about him."

"She _didn't_," Gemma agreed, damn near snarling.

Wendy shook her head. "She's not as bad as you think and I know I don't have to tell you that your son has a bad habit of giving everyone around him Hell when he's in his feelings about something. All the shit my mom puts me through dealing with Jax is pretty much a cakewalk…..I know you hate her…..and maybe it's because of something he told you when they were still pretending they hated each other or maybe it's something else…..and I'm not suggesting you invite her over for dinner or anything like that….but ever since her and Jax been hanging out I kinda got used to her. Tara's actually pretty cool. _I still think she's stuck up…._but my best friend—_God…_I can't believe I used that word! _Gag me with a fuckin spoon! Ugh..._Look, all I'm saying is Jax is obviously in love with her….he'll be buying her a promise ring any day now. So I know you don't trust her but maybe you should give her a fair shake….for Jax or whatever. Everybody knows what a momma's boy he is. And he won't admit it but I know it's _got _to be fuckin with his head that his two favorite people are always at each other's throats. _Well….._you're at _her _throat anyway…."

Gemma stood up, one hand flying to her hip. "When did me helping your mom turn into you giving advice about how I handle _my _son?"

"I'm just thinking out loud I guess," Wendy answered, grinning. "I do that a lot. Besides you're helping _me _out not my mom. Not really…..so I guess I'm trying to return the favor."

Gemma nodded, her face softening. "You really care about my son."

It wasn't a question.

It was an observation.

Wendy shrugged. "I _do…._but if I'm honest it's more him caring about me that makes me stick around. You don't have to tell me it's pathetic either. You'd just be preaching to the choir. But it is what it is and it's not like I'm in love with or anything. I'm not looking for him to take me to prom or make me his Old Lady when he joins the club. I just like having someone who….well that's it I guess. I just like having _someone._"

"I have a friend I used to go to school with," Gemma commented. "He has this nice place out in Oregon. It's called _Promises. _I never dealt with the sober living part of it but I've sent a few of the guys to the rehab facility when they needed it. I'll given him a call see if he has a spot for your mom."

Wendy shook her head, smirking. "Those twelve step freaks don't do much for Courtney," she lamented. "I blew through half the money my Nana left me for my college fund sending her to rehab before I finally gave up. It's a waste of money, Gemma. It doesn't work. And even if by some miracle this one did I need her here right now. My next door neighbor Susan got hurt trying to help me….trying to help _us. _And her brother's the landlord so we're probably looking at yet another eviction any day now. I'm the only one that's always sober enough to make sure the bills are paid and we pass inspection for State Aid and shit. Whenever this shit happens I'm the one that has to find us a new spot. But until I'm eighteen I still need her present to sign all the paperwork."

"How about this," Gemma suggested. "Courtney checks into Promises and you can stay with me until she's back on her feet…"

Gemma's eyes ballooned when Wendy abruptly started laughing.

"Courtney Case has _never _been on her feet," Wendy said, snickering. Even Gemma couldn't help wincing at how icy, how acidic the sound was. "My mom's been on her back for as long I could remember. My Nana died when I was ten. Her live-in boyfriend didn't want me so he thought it'd be best if he shipped me here to live with my mother….the junkie whore…" Wendy had tears in her eyes that weren't just from the nonstop laughter bubbling up her throat. "I've been watching this horror show for almost seven years, Gemma. Trust me, _this _leopard ain't changing its spots. I appreciate it but I'll be fine. We'll work it out."

_I always do._

"My Thomas...he's been gone three years..." Wendy sobered up, slowly moving to join Gemma on the foot of the bed when the reflecting mother sat down. "…..I haven't been able to even look in his room since then...I've been trying to build the courage to fix it up...make it into a guest bedroom...I never had a good enough reason to…._until now._" Gemma turned towards her, a loving, genuine smile people who weren't her children rarely got to see spreading across her face as tears shined in her Olive eyes. "….I know you can make it on your own, Baby but you shouldn't have to. You and...and…._her….._your parents have it all screwed up. They're supposed to take care of _you _not the other way around….and I never forgot the way you were there for my son when he needed someone to help through losing his little brother. At the time I was in too much pain to remember I had a son that still needed me. I guess that's part of why he's such an asshole now…" Gemma snickered _with _Wendy then. "…...I guess I still feel guilty sometimes so I spoil him...let him get away with murder."

"We cut school and got high," Wendy said bluntly. "It's not like I _shrinked _him or anything."

"Whatever you did you got him through it," Gemma argued. "_You _did," the matriarch emphasized. "That's why I want to help you through this…._and you're gonna let me._"

The conviction in her voice didn't really leave much room for argument.

Gemma Teller always got what she wanted one way or another.

_I see where Jax gets it from._

Wendy sighed. "_Whatevz_."

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"_BOO!"_

If it were possible for a person to jump out of their skin Tara would have done just that. She couldn't though, so the startled brunette settled for jumping back—falling to her bedroom floor when she tripped over the fluffy, oversized slippers on her feet.

"_I'm gonna fuckin kill you," _Tara hissed, glaring at the handsome, blue-eyed boy climbing in through her window.

Jax chuckled. "Rise and shine sleepyhead, half the town is probably dead."

"You almost made me pee on myself!" Tara complained.

"Too bad I didn't," Jax teased. "That would have been a perfect excuse to get you back in the shower."

Tara pulled off the towel wrapped around her head, tossing it in his face as she walked past him to stand in front of her mirror. "I got up two hours ago….and I don't remember requesting a wakeup call."

"What about breakfast in bed?" Jax taunted, brushing her damp hair aside to kiss her neck as he wrapped his arms around her.

"It's twelve-thirty," Tara said, rolling her eyes. She bumped him backwards with her ass, sending him flying back against her bed—sticking her tongue out at him through the mirror as she brushed her hair.

Jax shrugged. "Let's call it _brunch _then."

Watching him as he leaned back on his palms, legs open wide—the gap between them was calling out to her, making her want to take him up on the offer.

"I have to get dressed," Tara said. "And unless you plan on studying with me you need to get lost, Teller. He'll be here in like twenty minutes. I forgot to cancel and my aunt already paid for the next two weeks."

"Did she ever come home?" Jax asked.

Tara frowned, shaking her head. "She must have went straight to work from wherever she went last night. I wish she'd answer her phone….it feels shitty just leaving her a message. I want to apologize in person."

"She's probably just busy," Jax said. "She'll come home after her shift and then you guys can talk. It'll work out."

"I hope so."

"Trust me, Tara—"

"I _do _trust you, Jackson." Tara turned around to meet his eyes directly. "But you didn't see her face….I really hurt her. And I don't even know why I said all that shit. All she's been doing is trying to help me since she got here and I pretty much showed her my ass to kiss."

Jax stood up, pulling her towards him—hands flying up to their favorite place, tangled up in her hair. "It's gonna be okay, Tara." Tilting her chin up, he kissed her softly. Grinning at her he said, "So how about that _brunch?"_

"I have to study, Jax," she said, rolling her eyes. Tara giggled, playfully tugging his pouting bottom lip with her teeth. "He's only here for an hour. After that I promise…_just you and me."_

"Fine." Jax rolled his eyes, breathing out heavily. "Who are you studying with anyway? It better be that Pierce dude 'cause if it's _Leonard—"_

"It's _not _Leonard," Tara told him. Mischief twinkled in her eyes as she smiled it up. "It is someone you knw though. You remember Joshua?"

Jax cocked an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to remember him?"

"He's the guy you got jealous of at the mall," Tara teased. "You kept going on and on about him running into me on purpose. Turns out he's LJ's _older cousin_. He's been staying with him and his uncle's ex-wife ever since….you know…..Anyway he's been tutoring me these past three weeks and…._drumroll please…_he's the reason I got a perfect score…._one hundred percent _on Whitman's last exam. Too bad you weren't there to cheat off me that time, huh?"

"You're hanging out with that creep from the mall?" Jax barked, glaring as he stepped back.

"Studying," Tara corrected. "He's my _tutor."_

"He's a fuckin psycho," Jax snapped. "And you're a know-it-all. You don't need a damn tutor. You can study by yourself!"

Tara giggled. "This is perfect."

"You think this shit is funny?" Jax fumed. "I take it back. Leonard can study with you all he wants. You're not studying with _him_."

"You know the speech I gave Diane about me not coming out of her vagina?" Tara's green eyes narrowed. "I'm about to _remix _that shit just for you."

"Tara—"

"This _is _funny, Jackson," Tara said. "It's fuckin hilarious to me how much you _love _reminding me of all the girls _willing to give you what I won't—"_

"I said I was s—"

"And now you're pissed because Joshua is willing to give me something you _can't."_

Jax smirked at her, his blue eyes darkening. "Believe me, baby. There ain't a damn thing that asshole can do for you that I can't."

_And anything he _can _do I do it better._

"Oh really?" Tara challenged. Jax bit back a groan as she bent over, pulling her school bag from under the foot of her bed—flipping through the folder she took out of it. Standing up she held the paper in her hand in front of his face, pointing at question number three. "Can you give me the answer to this equation?_"_

_Is that shit even in English?_

Jax scowled. "You'd know it on your own if you paid better attention in class."

"That's kind of hard to do when I'm getting suspended for fighting over you!"

"I just don't get why you need a tutor all of a sudden," Jax complained, eyeing her suspiciously. "You're the smartest person in our school. Since when do _you _need extra help?"

Tara cocked her head to one side. "How the Hell did you even end up in _Honors _Trig anyway?"

Jax shrugged his shoulders, chuckling when she glared at him. "You're the one that said reminding you of my past is bad for me….and my dick."

Tara crossed her arms. "What'd you do? Sleep with your guidance counselor?"

"_Mr. Saletta?" _Jax snickered. "He's handsome and all but he's not really my type, Tara…..Natasha Torric used to fill in the answers on her paper then switch with me when the teacher wasn't looking. I only told her to give me enough answers to pass. She's the one that decided to make me look smarter."

Tara nodded, rolling her eyes. "Mrs. Bradshaw probably knew. She just didn't do anything….just like every other teacher that lets you get away with shit."

Jax smirked. "No comment."

_I am soooo not going near that trap you're setting, Babe._

"Well I tell you what, Jax," Tara announced. "_Joshua _is tutoring me so that I know all the answers _without help _on exam day. Deal with it."

"I don't trust him," Jax said. "He's a fuckin bunny boiler. I'm _telling _you."

"You met him for five seconds," Tara argued. "All five of which you spent scowling at him and accusing him—"

"I know what I saw, Tara." Jax shook his head. "I don't like him. Simple as that."

"You don't have to like him," Tara said, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Just like I don't have to like _you."_

"I don't like you either right about now," Jax responded. The kiss he pressed to the tip of her nose contradicted his words.

"Maybe not," Tara answered. "But you _love _me."

"That I can't argue with," he admitted. "….just like you can't argue with the fact that you're _loving this. _You love that this shit is gonna bother me."

Tara giggled. "I kinda do."

"It's okay, Babe. _Laugh it up. _And while you're laughing I have an equation for your tutor. _Joshua plus _you _equals my _fist _times two."_

Tara laughed against his mouth as she kissed him. "Grow up."

"I'm serious, Tara," Jax promised. "And the next time he _accidentally _runs into you it's gonna be my _foot_ plus his _ass_, too."

"If that's your way of giving me permission I didn't _ask _for it, Jax."

Jax picked her up. Carrying her over to her dresser he sat her down on top of it. _"You didn't ask for this either but I'm about to give it to you."_

* * *

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"Why are we here, Mom?" Lowell asked, glaring at the man sitting on the other side of the table.

"You're here because I want to help you," Robert Kohn said. "And quite frankly, Son you need it."

"I don't need you for shit," Lowell Junior snapped. "And for sixteen years my mom didn't either!"

"Lowell!" Barbara hissed.

"Look, Barbara," June Stahl cut in, tapping her fingers against the table. "Your brother put this off as long as he could. If your son's not gonna cooperate—"

"He _is," _Barbara promised. She rubbed against the stiffness of her sons back. "You gotta tell them what you heard, Baby. It's for your daddy. It's to help him. You don't have to trust them. Trust _me."_

"Tell me everything you know," Stahl demanded, losing patience.

"Tell _us," _Robert corrected, glaring at the eager ATF agent sitting beside him.

* * *

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As much as he hated to there was simply no avoiding it.

He couldn't avoid his house forever.

Jax was working it out his mind how he could slowly move his stuff into a dorm room at the clubhouse without his mother noticing when he walked out into the living room to see a familiar blonde-haired girl sitting on the couch.

"_Wendy?" _Wendy turned around—setting the remote in her hand down, smiling at him as he walked towards her. "What you doing here? Where's your mom? Look, I hope you're not pissed about what I said—"

Wendy shook her head. "I'm not."

"Good. Because I'm not sorry I said it."

_Any of it._

"She's heard worse from me," Wendy said, patting the spot next to her. "Your mom has her friend Luann and her husband up at your family's cabin with her now. We came back to pick up some stuff for her and some clothes for Gemma. She's gonna stay up there with her for a few days. Help her through detox and shit. I _told _her she's wasting her time. But you know how your mother is. She does what she wants no matter what people try to tell her."

_She also does _who _she wants and doesn't give a shit how her Old man would feel about it._

"I see you're taking advantage of my cable," Jax joked. "I'm sure Gemma won't care if you crash here until your mom gets back. You can sleep in my room if you want. I'm staying at the clubhouse."

_Or with Tara._

_Or with my Old man in that nice recliner he has in his room. Any-fuckin-where but here…..with her._

Worry crossed her features, immediately alarming Jax.

Wendy Case never worried about shit.

She was the very definition of rolling with the punches—or slicing the lemons life gave you to suck on after every Tequila shot she took.

"What?" Jax asked, his ass sliding to the edge of the couch as he angled his body towards her.

"Your mom already invited me to say," Wendy admitted. "….it's for a few weeks while my mom gives rehab another shot. She umm…..she's letting me stay in the room across the hall from yours."

"_Tommy's room."_

"Your mom is an even bigger bully than you," Wendy half-joked. "She wouldn't take no for an answer but if it's not cool with you let her know. I'm not gonna make a voodoo doll of you and stick needles in it. It's not like you haven't helped me out in the past. I know you usually kick girls out when you….you know….you're done or whatever. I appreciate you letting me wear out my welcome when I didn't wanna deal with Courtney and her bullshit all those other times..."

Wendy looked nervous—she _sounded _nervous.

And that shit was starting to freak Jax out.

"She's letting you stay in my little brother's room," Jax commented. "She wouldn't do that if she didn't care about you."

_She wouldn't let Tara sleep underneath her car._

"I told her I would crash on the couch...or in the den. It's just until I can find a new place for me and my mom….." Jax was still struggling with the question of who swapped Wendy with someone who _looked_ like her when she added, "Look…I speak _guy _better than I do girl so normally I can tell where your head is but you have to actually use your _words_, Jax."

"It's cool."

Wendy cocked an eyebrow. "Cool that I speak guy or cool if I squat in your house for a couple weeks?"

Jax shrugged, smiling at her. "Just don't use my toothbrush."

He was happy when his wisecrack did the trick.

Just like that, Wendy was back.

"Oh please." Wendy rolled her eyes, smiling. "Like I would _ever_. You forget I know where your mouth has been? I don't like Tara that much."

Jax chuckled. "Your loss, Blondie…._it would be the sweetest thing you'd ever tasted."_

Jax laughed harder when his comment had the desired effect.

Wendy wrinkled her nose in disgust. "_T.M.I, _Dude. I guess you really are what you eat...Jesus Christ. She's turning you into a pussy!"

"Oh _fuck off." _Jax smirked. "You're probably drawing hearts around you and LJ's names already."

Wendy frowned. "Lowell's got issues…..I think I'll leave him to deal with them on his own for a while."

_That was fast._

"What happened?"

"I caught him about to get high….._with my mother."_

"_Shit." _Jax cringed. "You want me to get Kozik to kick his ass? That's what Opie threatened to do to me when I tried it."

Wendy's eyes ballooned. "You did _H _before?"

"Coke." Jax shrugged. "Same shit thought. It's all bad for you. That's actually uh…." Jax cleared his throat awkwardly. "….that's part of the reason Tara stopped talking to me before."

Wendy cocked an eyebrow. "I thought it was because _she's a selfish bitch that gets off on judging shit she doesn't understand."_

_Jesus Christ._

_Must you remember everything I say? Shit I said five hundred years ago? What was the point of getting high?_

Jax groaned. "Please don't tell her I said that."

"Why the Hell would I even tell her that?"

"For the same reason you felt the need to tell her I called her Glinda the good witch," Jax answered, glaring at her. "You like yanking her chain just as much as you like fuckin with me."

Wendy shrugged. "Its in the past. I doubt it would even bother her."

Jax scoffed. "That's because you don't know her like I do."

"I don't think _anyone _does," Wendy teased, wriggling her eyebrows. Then her eyes widened comically. "Except maybe _Dav—"_

"I take it back you can't stay here."

"No take backs," Wendy taunted. "You're legally required to give me thirty days notice."

"The Hell I do! You can't be a tenant if you're not paying rent."

"I _am _paying."

"Then where's my first, last and security, Hoe?"

"I pay in knowledge and wisdom," Wendy joked. "….and occasionally weed."

"Yeah okay." Jax smirked. "You'll be paying with something else if you run my girlfriend off with your big ass mouth."

"_Girlfriend?" _Wendy laughed. "Oh that's perfect. Stay right here, okay? I'll go get Ima so you can repeat that in front of her. Then that bitch can give me my fifty bucks."

Jax glared at her. "You know I'm cool with _you _crashing here but you can't bring that slut to my house. Gemma has a bad habit of inviting chicks I can't stand to stay for oatmeal. I was kidding about you running her off but if Tara shows up and she's here I'll never hear the end of it…..if she even talks to me at all. You know her and Maize tried to jump her?"

_Thank God for Tinkerbell..._

"I heard," Wendy admitted. "I also _saw. _And judging by the black eyes and split lip she's rocking I don't think you have to worry about _her _chasing _Tara _off."

"I mean it, Wendy. I don't want her over here."

_That bitch might make me break my rule about hitting females._

Wendy whistled. "You've got it bad kid."

"_Fuck you," _Jax spat. "It's not like you didn't know how I felt about her."

"Dude….my _ancestors _know you're into her," Wendy joked. "Poor thing…I tell you what. I give you my word. I'll punch her in the face when she breaks your heart. I can toootally take her. I could have handled my own with Manny like I been doing if that asshole didn't have all those rings on his fingers."

"Punching is the only use he has for his fist right about now," Jax said. "I doubt he'll be jerking off any time soon."

"I think I'll call him…..Senor _shish-ka-_balls."

Jax laughed with her. "I got about a half hour to kill. Tara's _studying."_

"How you liking her new tutor?"

"I see a black eye in _his_ future," Jax said, grabbing the remote off the coffee table. He flicked through the channel before landing on the sports channel. He pointed at the wide receiver punting the football across the field. "I'm gonna do his face just like that football."

Wendy giggled, snatching the remote back to change to the movie that had been watching them moments before. "You seen this before?"

Jax nodded. "Want me to tell you how it ends?"

"Want me to hit you in the face with this remote?"

Jax chuckled, toeing his sneakers off as he leaned back, settling into the couch.

Wendy barely even noticed his arm behind her back. And why would she? It wasn't like he meant anything by it. The motion was every bit as innocent as when she slid a little closer to him, and when he placed a hand on her shoulder, stealing doritos from the bag of chips she had in her lap.

"Hey, Jax."

"_Shhhh…._this is my _part_!"

"Jax—"

"What?" Jax managed to roll his eyes at her and continue ignoring her as he became engrossed in the movie.

"I'm trying to say thank you, Jerk."

"For what?"

"Letting me stay here."

Jax shrugged, leaning his head back to drop a fistful of chips into it. "It's Gemma's house."

_Until my father kicks her cheating ass out of it._

"Duh." Wendy elbowed him until he turned to glare at her. "You know she wouldn't do anything you weren't okay with."

_Yeah fuckin right._

"I guess."

"_Thank you," _Wendy stressed.

Crumbs from his mouth stained her face when he leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Teller's always got your back, Darlin'..._Now shut up and watch the movie."_

Wendy rolled her eyes, snatching the chips out of his reach before doing as he'd rudely suggested.

If only they could see the wheels turning in Gemma's head.

But then they would have had to notice her at the top of the stairs listening to them—watching them.

Wendy Case and Jackson didn't have your typical friendship but they _were _friends.

And Gemma Teller had a feeling they could be more with a little push...

Diane Knowles struck out big time but it was okay.

As promised, she'd be the one to handle it like she handled every other problem in her life.

Wendy was jaded as they came—a lot like Gemma was after years of living with a mother that was never satisfied with anything she did to try to please her. But the smart mouth sixteen year old was also someone Gemma could take under her wing. Show her the ropes—the ins and outs of the outlaw world her son would always be a part of.

Gemma had found a new solution to the Tara problem.

Choking that bitch out wouldn't work….but Jax falling for another girl would do the trick.

Her son loved Tara.

She could see he truly believed that.

But love was such a fickle thing.

Her and JT were proof of that.

* * *

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Agent Robert Kohn pulled the door closed behind him as he stepped out into the hall behind her.

"Agent Stahl."

June Stahl turned around slowly, her partner stopping short beside her. "_Agent Kohn."_

Robert walked towards her. "Listen, June. I know all about how you operate. If this were any other situation I'd say go for it but I don't want Barbara or her son getting hurt and you and I both know how these outlaw assholes are. They can sniff out a rat a mile off and you know what their remedy is. Until we've got a solid case I want everything we heard today _off the record."_

"Seems to me like you and your sister aren't really all that close," Stahl commented, sneering.

"We're close enough for me to snatch that badge off your hip if anything happens to them because you're angling for a promotion and don't give a shit who gets hurts in the process."

Stahl raised her hands in mock surrender, beady blue eyes mocking. "No need for threats, _Boss. _I hear you loud and—"

"That's right, bitch," Robert growled, speaking through his teeth as he stepped closer to her. "I _am _your boss. This isn't just me saying _motherfuck _your jurisdiction. You have that shit in writing on your desk. My team is in charge unless I hand over the case which I _won't _be. And if you interfere with my investigation in any way I'll make sure you're reassigned. This is my playpin. You're not to do anything without _my _authorization first."

Stahl nodded stiffly. "Me and my partner were headed over to St. Thomas."

"For what?"

"I'm thinking we should pay John Teller a visit. See if He'll—"

"No."

Stahl rolled her eyes, sighing as if she was dealing with a stubborn four year old child. "He lost the Presidents chair to his former friend...and judging by the way all the surveillance photos I have of his wife slipping out of Clay Morrows apartment I'd say that ain't the only thing he lost..._anger_...betrayal...him wanting revenge. That's an angle we can use. Especially if he finds out the man wearing his patch is the reason—"

"Absolutely not." Robert turned his back to them, reaching for the doorknob as he added, "I'll let you know what my next move is. Until then you and your team do nothing."

"So what now?" Her partner asked as they watched the interrogation room door shut behind him.

Stahl brushed the back of her hand across her forehead. "I'm feeling a little... _feverish_ all of a sudden..." She brought that same hand down to cover her mouth as she coughed. "...shit I think I might be coming down with something. I should probably go to the Emergency room..._you know of any _hospitals _in the area?"_

Her partner chuckled. "I _do _actually. There's one a couple miles from here..._St. Thomas."_

* * *

**Guess who's turning **sixteen **next chapter? While I'm planning his party in my head I **invite **you to write me a nice review STUFFED (like the pinata that **won't **be at his party) with lots of feedback and thoughts on this chapter.**

**P.S: **I hope you miss Opie. Cuz I miss writing about him so he's definitely got his own arc in the next chapter.

**XOXO**


	66. Chapter 59

**A/N: **So **CH59 **is being split in half (possibly _thirds) _so while **CH60 **is the same day (aka birthday **eve**) I haven't edited that part yet, but I'm hoping you'll still appreciate me updating with what I **did** manage to sort out. I'll try finish the rest next weekend.

**FYI: **I posted **CH2** and **CH3 **of my **Opie Winston centric **short story "**BEST POLICY**". I'd reccommend checking it out **before **reading this chapter (well, really next 1-2 after it) if you haven't already.

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

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"So you think you two will get back together?"

Opie rolled his eyes. "I would have never asked you to smoke up with me if I knew you talked so damn much."

Chastity giggled. "Sounds like you _are."_

"I don't wanna talk about it," Opie told her.

Rolling onto her side, she rested her face against her hand—elbow pressing into the pillow on her side of the bed. "She really misses you, you know. I could tell...even if she's hurt over whatever happened with you and this _Sarah _chick you two were fighting about. I asked Katy about her. She thinks she's sweet. She also thinks she'll probably try kill me if she catches me in your dorm room. _Is_ _this_ your dorm room by the way? There's quite a few of them in here. You guys are like one big Outlaw apartment complex."

"You think she's _sweet?" _Opie mocked, scowling. "You go out with her then."

"No thanks, Bro," Chastity said, blowing smoke through the bow of her lips as she passed the blunt back to him. "I already got my eye on someone."

Opie's eyebrows rose. "Who?"

A lopsided grin spread across her face as she stared at him. "I'll give you a hint. Long legs….gorgeous smile….hair I've been _aching _to run my fingers through…and the _sexiest _green eyes I've ever seen."

Opie coughed into his fist as he sat up, his back bumping the headboard. "_Tara?"_

Chasity sighed. Flipping on her back, she laid against the pillow. "Even her name is beautiful."

Opie doubled over laughing—mirth that had nothing to do with the weed they were smoking rocking through his system. "Oh this is _perfect. _You should go for it, _Chas. _Jax can't beat the shit out of _you_ or scare you off."

Chastity sat up with him. "Tara's into girls?"

_Jax acts like a little girl sometimes so I wouldn't be surprised._

Opie shrugged, grinning. "Go for it."

"_Seriously_." Chasity stressed, rolling her eyes. "Don't play with my emotions here, man. Tara's _hot. _I would soooo go for it."

"_Nah. _I'm just fuckin with you," Opie admitted, snickering. "She's not."

Chasity slapped his arm, only making him laugh harder.

"Not even a few tequila shots away?" She asked.

Opie smirked. "Not unless you're playing spin the bottle."

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* * *

"Thanks for the ride back," Tara said, pushing the passenger side door closed. "I really appreciate it."

Sliding the sunglasses over his eyes down the bridge of his nose, Joshua Kohn smiled at her through the open window of his Ford SUV. "No problem, _Tare."_

Tara rolled her eyes. "I keep telling you to stop calling me that."

"And every time you do it reminds me how bad you are at pretending you don't like it," Joshua countered, smirking when she glared at him. "Oh _come on. _It's way better than _Nerdvana…._or_ Know-it-all-Knowles…_or _trackstar….._or _Miss Piggy."_

Tara giggled. "It's _Babe," _she corrected, eyeing him knowingly. "Babe the pig and I don't know….that one's kinda growing on me."

Joshua wriggled his eyebrows at her. "Can I call you _Babe_ for short?"

Tara had to fight the urge to wrinkle her nose up. She didn't know why but it sounded weird coming from him. Until then only Jax had called her that.

_I'm Jax's babe._

"Only if I can call you _Joshie," _Tara joked, knowing how much he hated the nickname. Stepping back from the curb, she fluttered her fingers lightly as she waved at him—walking backwards towards the walk-way to her front yard. "I'll see you next week?"

"It's a _date."_

Tara didn't have long to contemplate the word he'd used to describe their next tutoring session. When she turned on her heel to head into her house she spotted a familiar head of raven hair—Donna's blue-green eyes staring down at the sidewalk in front of Opie's house.

"_Donna?"_

Donna's head snapped up as she changed directions, heading from her yard towards her. The smile plastered on her face seemed force.

"Hey, Tara," Donna said. "Where the Hell did you come from?"

_I was just about to ask you that._

"I was over at Joshua's," Tara answered, coming to a stop in front of her. "I'm gonna need all the tutoring I can get. Thanks to those cheerleader sluts I missed Whitman's test so he gave me a take-home exam to do and some extra credit work since I'll be missing most of next week, too. How many days did you get? I _told_ Mason you were only trying to help me. It was two against one. You shouldn't have gotten suspended at all."

Donna shrugged. "One day suspension, Three days detention."

Tara smirked. "Baby booking."

"Huh?" Donna's eyebrow rose.

Tara giggled. "Nothing. That's the word Jax used to describe his time in Juvie."

"How is Jax?" Before Tara could open her mouth to answer, Donna quickly added, "How's _Opie?_ I was actually looking for him but no one answered when I knocked."

Tara somehow managed to suppress her frown—and the mild annoyance that came with it.

"He's probably at the clubhouse," Tara told her. "That's usually where him and Jax go when they're cutting school."

Donna's smile looked hopeful. "You want to ride with me there?"

"_Nope_." Tara shook her head. "I have to catch up on my work. And Jax is coming by later so we're probably going to the diner or to see a movie or something…."

"Okay…." Donna crossed her arms, her hands rubbing at her shoulders. "I guess I'll see you later then."

"Later."

Tara turned around, heading back towards her house when Donna's voice rung out behind her—nerves laced in every syllable she punctuated.

"_Can I ask you something?"_

Tara was immediately reminded of Wendy's run down of the history of Sarah Hale and Opie Winston during their third period English class—how equally relieved and horrified she'd been when the abrasive blonde filled in for her so she didn't have to be the one to give Donna the dirty details.

Taking a deep breath, Tara made sure to fix her face before turning back to face her.

"Is it about Opie?" Tara asked. When Donna nodded once, Tara shook her head. "Then _no."_

"Seems like him and that new girl _Charity—"_

"Her name is _Chastity," _Tara corrected, rolling her eyes.

_You know it, too. You probably know her social security number._

Donna glared. "Her and Opie seem like they're getting really—"

Tara held her hand up, shaking her head again. "_No,_ Donna," Tara stressed. "_You dumped him. _You lost the right to know what goes on with him _or_ get pissed because he's spending time with someone else."

Donna's eyes misted over. "So it's true?" She prodded. "They're like…_together?"_

"_What the Hell do you care?"_ Tara snapped, narrowing her green eyes. "Last I checked you were hooking up with Marcus Owens!"

Donna shook her head, her eyes widening slightly. "It's not like that, Tara."

"Sure looked that way when we saw you at the diner," Tara accused, sneering at her. "_Sixteen_ years. Him and Jackson have been celebrating their birthdays together for _sixteen _years and Jax spent Opie's birthday in Juvenile Hall. Opie _bailed_ on whatever they had for him at the clubhouse because him and Piney are still fighting—"

"_What?" _Donna blinked hard. "What happened with—"

"This is shit you should know already," Tara hissed. "I had to drag his ass out of the house to get him to even _let _me take him out to eat for his birthday and he spent the night watching you sit in that jock-hole's lap! You couldn't put aside whatever your latest insecurity is for one night to celebrate his _birthday _with him? _What the Hell is wrong with you? _What the Hell did he do that was so bad that you would hurt him like that? Opie's not like _Jax _or Kyle. I swear to God, it's chicks like you that give guys an _excuse _to be jerks. You got a good one and you're too busy fighting with him to see that you already won. You don't know how _badly_ I wanted to punch you the other day."

Donna shook her head. "I don't understand," she said quietly. "I thought we were friends. The other day I had your—"

"I _am _your friend, Donna." The evil look Tara was giving her may have told a different story but she genuinely meant it. "And I like you. I like hanging out with you and I appreciate you having my back….the way I'll have _your _back when you need me….the way I'll _always_ have Opie's back because he's always had mine. I wasn't going to say a word but you brought it up so now I'm telling you. _You need to make up your damn mind. _I'm not getting in the middle. Unlike you I don't like meddling in other people's business and in case you haven't noticed I have my own drama to deal with. Thanks to my big ass mouth I might not have an aunt anymore."

"I'm sor—"

"Don't tell _me _you're sorry," Tara complained. "Tell _him!"_

"I will," Donna vowed after a lengthy moment of silence.

Tara nodded once, stepping back from her to head towards her yard. "_Good."_

* * *

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The longer she pushed the shopping cart through the aisles of Monroe Market, the more Wendy Case was convinced that Gemma planned on buying everything in the store.

"Is there a blizzard coming to California?" Wendy joked, eyebrows rising higher as Gemma read from the legal pad-sized list in her hand, tossing items in the cart Wendy was pushing and the basket slung up her arm. "If so, I'd say you got enough food for all of Charming….probably the whole County."

Gemma picked up one packet of raw chicken wings at a time, reading the dates before tossing them in the cart. "Too much shit going on lately," Gemma explained as they headed towards the frozen dairy section. "With all the back to back drama I'm behind on all the shopping and shit I gotta do for Jackson's birthday party…."

Wendy's eyes brightened with sudden understanding. "Oh yeah, that's right. His birthday is this month."

Gemma looked up from the mozzarella cheese in her hand, cocking an eyebrow at her. "He's your best friend but you don't know his birthday?"

Wendy shrugged, not even the slightest bit bothered by the accusation. "Ask me if _he _knows mine_."_

_He knows my birthday _suit…_that's about it._

_And vice versa._

Gemma nodded once, a wry smile spreading across her face. "Fair enough."

"I missed out on the last couple ragers you threw him," Wendy commented as they came to a stop in front of the bakery section. "You always prepare a seven course meal or something? This is _a lot_ of food."

"I usually make a day of it," Gemma admitted, her smile nostalgic. "Breakfast is all on me. He always gets the works. Chocolate chip Pancakes, Waffles with whip cream and strawberries, even French toast. Bacon, sausage, eggs, oatmeal. I do a buffet and him and Opie have to fight JT and Piney for seconds…._Excuse me?" _Gemma held the package of croissants in her hand in front of the worker behind the counter. "_You got any that's fresh? This shit is stale. I don't know why this is even out on the shelves." _

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Teller," the clerk said, smiling. "We have some baking in the back right now. If you'd like to continue shopping I'll wrap it up and have it brought to the register for you when you're ready."

Gemma nodded curtly before turning back towards Wendy. "Where was I?" she asked as they headed down the path between the checkout area and the aisles. "Oh shit. I forgot his _Cinnamon Toast Crunch."_

"You were telling me about this whole breakfast party you have planned," Wendy answered.

"Right." Gemma picked two boxes of cereal from the shelf. "Well after breakfast Piney and JT usually take the boys out for the day. Jax and Opie are really only weeks apart so we usually celebrate their birthdays together. Anyway….I usually round up the girls. They help me cook dinner. Every year they'd try to convince me to order a cake but I think that shit is lazy. If you know how to bake why not bake your son a birthday cake? Jackson's well past the days of ordering bouncy houses and water gun fights so I was thinking paintball this year. I had Kozik and the guys take care of everything."

Wendy giggled. "I feel sorry for whatever Prospect has to clean the clubhouse after."

Gemma shook her head. "No paintball on the lot," she told her. "They're headed up to the cabin while Me, Luann and the girls are staying back to finish dinner and set everything up at _Reaper. _You know…... I can have Tiggy get some gear and a paintball gun for you, too if you want. Most of the girls are sitting this one out because they don't want to want to walk around sore for days but I've got a couple patches I've been wanting to shoot in the nuts so I can give you my list…._unless you want to stick around and help me cook."_

Wendy shrugged. "I don't mind helping out….the least I could do, you know? I'm basically squatting in—"

"You're not a butler," Gemma declared. "Letting you stay with me doesn't come with strings attached, sweetheart. You can stay and help or go out in the woods and show the fellas how it's done. Your choice."

"Breakfast buffet….Paintball gun fight….Clubhouse rager…." Wendy held out a finger on her left hand, gesturing with her right one as she went down the list with a new finger each time. "….and he's turning sixteen this year so he's probably getting that Harley he's always babbling about. _Wow. _Jax really is the _Prince."_

"Spoiled _rotten,_" Gemma agreed, laughing at Wendy's awed expression. "You don't have to tell me. _I know I created a monster."_

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

He'd arrived half an hour ago.

And quite frankly, Jackson Teller felt he deserved an award for keeping his hands to himself that long.

His lips were another story.

When Tara turned her head to glare at him, her expression was an amusing mix of annoyance and desire. "_Jax."_

Jax took his sweet time pulling his lips away from the spot on her neck he'd been kissing to smile at her. "Yes?"

"Get off my bed," Tara hissed, elbowing him in his side when he grabbed her waist. "Better yet, get out of my room. I'm never going to get this done if you keep distracting me."

"What the Hell is the point of all those tutoring sessions with _Ted Bundy _if it still takes you five hours to finish your math homework?" Jax grumbled, crossing his arms.

Tara rolled her eyes. "I told you I would meet you at the diner when I'm done. Arthur gave me the keys to Cutlass back. I guess he's trying to—"

Tara's eyes widened when he clapped his hands loudly next to her ear.

"_Blah, blah, blah." _Jax pointed towards the textbook and stack of papers in her lap. "Less talking, more solving!"

"I'm _trying," _Tara argued. Narrowing her eyes at him briefly, her green eyes flitted towards the paper in front of her, glaring a hole into the problem that had her stumped. "This shit isn't making any sense….._probably_ because you're distracting me."

_If me sucking on your neck is distracting you we're gonna have to work on your multi-tasking skills, Babe._

Jax leaned over, ignoring the cynical look she shot him as his blue eyes briefly scanned the paper. "Or maybe it's because you forgot to carry the two."

Tara snickered. "Oh right….thanks Professor _Truant."_

"Give it to me." Jax shook his head. Reaching over he snatched the book and the pencil in her hand. Amusement shined in the greens of her eyes as she watched him scribbling away on her paper with a look of extreme focus that almost made it seem like he knew what the Hell he was doing. "_There." _Jax handed her work back to her. "Can I kiss you now?"

_Can we get rid of that baggy T-shirt and bra while we're at it?_

_At least I know you're not going to _tutor-boy's _house all dolled up for him. _

_I may stay out of jail after all._

Tara smirked as she lifted the paper up, green eyes appraising his handiwork.

Jax watched in silence as one emotion after another crossed her features.

Tara went from smug to skeptical.

Skepticism bled straight into confusion.

That was followed very shortly by disbelief.

And when she finally turned to look at him, it was suspicion that narrowed her eyes.

"How'd you know that?"

Jax shrugged. "_Lucky guess," _he lied. "That was the last problem right?"

As soon as Tara nodded, he reached for the book on her lap, snapping it shut before tossing it to the floor on her side of the bed. Her earlobe was between his teeth before the book touched the carpet.

Reaching for her waist, Jax bit back a groan of frustration when she knocked his hand aside.

seeing the sparkling greens of her eyes so up close only made it that much more painful to ask the question sliding off his tongue.

"What's wrong _now_?"

Tara cocked her head to one side. "Natasha was in my math class last year."

_HUH?_

Jax squinted his eyes. "_What?_"

"You said she always gave you the answers on all the exams," Tara remarked, shaking her head. "I _remember _now Jax. That bitch was always trying to cheat off of _me. _And I had social studies with her in Junior High school, too. She's dumber than a box of rocks."

Jax shrugged. "So."

Tara smiled at him then. "_You're full of shit."_

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Tara," Jax said. He tugged at the hem of her shirt, glaring when she stopped him from pulling it up. "And I'd prefer if we didn't talk at all for a while…._at least an hour_."

_or ten._

"You got into honors Trig on your own," Tara stated, nodding in agreement with her own statement.

Jax shrugged again, rolling his eyes. "I was proving a point." When Tara cocked an eyebrow at him, he sighed heavily. "Look….Ope bet me a hundred bucks I couldn't ace our algebra class without cheating. And Wendy…._umm…_well anyway…._I studied…._charmed Miss _Brad _into coughing up some extra credit….and _then_ bought myself a fresh pair of Nike's and two new Harley Manuals with Ope's allowance money."

"What did _Wendy_ bet you?" Tara asked, eyeing him suspiciously as he squirmed underneath her gaze.

_Threesome._

_I got that, too._

"I don't even remember," Jax lied, shrugging yet again. "Something stupid."

_"mmhmmm." _Jax chuckled as the suspicion marring her features increased at his words.

_Can't do it, Babe._

_You already warned me it's bad for my dick. _

_Past is the past. No reminding._

"That's the sound I'm_ dying _to hear, Babe," Jax told her, reaching for her waist again. "But for an entirely different reason."

"You're an idiot," Tara said, as she slid onto his lap. "I don't know how I feel about you _playing dumb. _You're better than that you know. I always knew that even before now."

"I'm not playing at anything, Tara," Jax replied. "School's really not that important for me. I don't need a four-point-O to get into SAMCRO."

"The other night you told me your dad said the Club didn't have to be your life."

Jax rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I still have no idea what the Hell he even meant, Tara."

"_Ask him."_

Jax sighed. "Do I have to do it right _now?_"

_If so I reserve the right to tie you to this bed until I get back. _

"Why?" Tara teased, a wide smile spreading across her face as she read the promise in his eyes. "Did you wanna do _me_ first?"

God, he loved her.

He loved her even more when she kissed him, easing his mouth open to tangle her tongue with his in a languid battle for dominance that neither one of them cared to win nor lose. Tara rocked against him in a torturous back and forth—his groans of pleasure vibrating against the soft skin of her neck as he kissed and nipped a hot, wet trail of sweet, bruising kisses along her throat. Jax slid his hand up her shirt, kneading her breasts through the thin cups of her bra until the rosy, pink nipples he couldn't wait to suck on hardened underneath his touch, pressing against his palm. Gripping her hip briefly he pressed her harder against him until she matched the pace of his thrusts up against the heat between her legs that was all but singing the denim of his jeans. Then his hand joined the one already under her shirt, tearing at the clasps of her bra until the lacy black material joined her school books on her bedroom floor. Jax didn't bother with the extra second it would take to lift the baggy T-shirt over her head. Instead he shoved the front of it up, flicking his tongue against each nipple—one, then the other until she grabbed the back of his head, threading his hair between her fingers as she pushed his mouth against her breast, begging him without words to stop teasing. Jax nibbled softly, lapping circles around her as his hands slithered their way through the tiny gap between their bodies to pull at the top button and zipper of her jeans.

Why the Hell was it always the subtle pop of her jeans opening that snapped her back to whatever train of thought he'd been eager to cut off?

Tara curled her finger around his wrist, pulling her face back to look at him. As soon as she did, he pressed his forehead against hers, his hands sliding down to her sides, gently gripping her waist as he shut his eyes.

_You're killing me, baby._

_This shit is going way past want. I _need _you, Tara._

_All of you._

"Jackson," Tara whispered. "When I was in the hospital I….well I talked with Diane and then she….umm….."

Jax forced his eyes open only when he was sure he'd forced the disappointment and annoyance threatening to pierce through the surface of his wearing patience with Diane Knowles.

All the times he'd wanted to be right about something, he just _had _to be right about her.

She was just as meddlesome as his mother.

And Tara actually listened to _her_.

"Tara, we don't have to go that far," Jax told her, brushing her hair back. "You should know that by now. We do it when you're ready. And I don't know what Diane said to you about me but you can't—"

Tara shook her head, pressing her hand against his face. "It's not like that."

His eyebrows threaded together in confusion. "Then what is it, Babe?"

The scarlet red seeping into her cheeks only made him want to know that much more.

"She got me a prescription for birth control," Tara admitted, blushing as she stared down at his chest. "I'm on the pill….well _technically..._When you got arrested and with everything going on with my dad coming back I missed a couple days so it's going to take a week or so to get back on track…"

Jax blinked. Clearing his throat, he nudged her chin up until she finally met her his eyes.

"And when you're back on track…." Somewhere down the line he'd remember to be embarrassed about how breathless he sounded. "_Tara?_"

Tara shook her head again. Her answering smile was bashful, her voice barely above a whisper as she admitted, "_I don't even wanna wait that long."_

Jax swallowed hard. "I got tested you know," he blurted out. "I'm cl—well I _have _to be. There's no way I could have caught anything. I always used a condom with all the girls I—_shit, _I mean I always used one whenev—I _always _use one I swear."

Tara cocked an eyebrow at him, amusement flickering in the greens of her eyes. "You ready to be a father?"

_Daddy _or_ Papi. I'll answer to either one, Baby._

"Huh?"

Tara giggled, red flooding her cheeks. "_Condom, _Jackson. Any chance you have one?"

Jax's blue eyes widened. "For right now?"

"No." Tara rolled her eyes. "For next Summer."

"You serious, Tara?"

Tara nodded. "I know it's barely been a month…"

_Barely? It's been almost _two, _Tara. I'm good at math remember? _

"….and I should probably wait…that's what _Di _thinks anyway….but the more time I spend with you it feels like longer, Jax….feels like we've been waiting for three years….like _I've _been waiting for you…..to know that you felt the same way I do….the way I've always felt even when I didn't know it or want to admit it because I was scared—"

Jax cupped her face, softly brushing his lips across hers. "I don't want you to be afraid of anything because _I'm not. _Not anymore, Babe. _I love you, Tara_. I always have. _Always will."_

"I know," Tara muttered against his lips as she kissed him back. "_I'm ready."_

Threading his hands through her hair, he pulled her back slightly, blue eyes drinking in the resolution in her eyes—his stomach knotting with a soul-deep anticipation he'd never felt before.

Absently raking his hands through her hair, his indigo gaze wandered, touching upon her sparking emerald eyes, her beautiful smile, the rise and fall of her chest as he studied her—Tara Knowles, his favorite subject.

To Tara it was like three years of waiting but for him it felt even longer.

Jesus, he didn't even know where he wanted to start—what he wanted to start with. All he knew for sure, in no uncertain terms was that when he did start, he'd never want to stop.

"So," Tara said, smiling meekly at him. "Do you have one?"

"One what?" He asked her shirt as he tugged at it, taking his sweet time pulling it over her head. One hand at the nape of her neck, his other gripped her waist as he slowly rolled her onto her back, licking her neck before sucking a kiss over the trail of moisture he'd left behind.

"_Condom," _Tara answer, her breath hitching when he yanked her jeans down past her thighs, cupping at warm, dampness seeping into the cotton of her panties. "…..Do you…._God…._do you have one?"

It wasn't until he felt her gently pushing against his shoulder as his lips made their way down to her navel that her words finally registered.

_SHIT._

"I'm gonna _fuckin cry_," Jax mumbled against her stomach, groaning in frustration.

Why the Hell didn't he put one in his wallet?

Tara giggled. "You're an Outlaw aren't you? I thought you guys weren't above _stealing…"_

"I realize I'm not getting laid right now," Jax complained, looking up at her. "That doesn't mean I'm thinking with the head on my shoulders. You gotta give me a minute, Tara. And while you're doing that what the _Hell_ are you talking about? I'm way too fuckin horny to translate."

Tara plucked at the line of frustration creasing his forehead as she laughed at him. "Opie's at the clubhouse you know. Can't you just—I mean unless you guys are diff—_Gross, _why the Hell did that even…I mean—"

"I'LL BE RIGHT BACK!" Jax announced to everyone within three hundred feet of her bedroom.

Jax jumped up from the bed, tripping over her textbook as he charged towards the door. Zeroing in on the hole in his sock, he ran around the foot of her bed, bending over where his Nike's were. Shoving his feet inside, he tripped over his laces before leaning down to tuck both pair underneath the tongues of his sneakers. Flinging her bedroom door open, he paused at the threshold briefly. Dashing back towards the bed where she sat giggling uncontrollably, he grazed her mouth with his—once and then twice more.

"_Don't move." _Spinning back around quickly, his knee banged against the corner of her nightstand. "Shit."

Tears streaming down her face—Tara blinked twice and he was gone.

Jax heard her yell, "WHOSE THE TRACKSTAR _NOW?!_" as he sprinted through her living room, damn near ripping her front door off its hinges as he ran outside like the House was on fire, hopping off her front steps, quickly bending the corner—headed towards Opie's bedroom window.

As soon as he ran around the side of her house he smacked straight into her aunt.

Diane Knowles flew backwards, the garbage can she'd been dragging to the front of the house, and the large duffel bag on her shoulder hitting the ground with a loud thud right along with her—her oversized designer purse landing in her lap as she fell on her ass.

"_What the Hell?" _Diane's eyes went from wide in shock to their normal almond shape as she frowned at the blue-eyed boy holding a hand out to help her up.

"Sorry," Jax said, picking her things up, handing them to her before setting the garbage can rolling back and forth next to her upright. "I was—"

Diane held a hand up, shutting her eyes briefly. "_It's fine_. I just came by to pack a bag. I only need a few things. I'll be gone in fifteen minutes if that."

And with that she stepped around him.

Staring at her retreating back, he pinched the bridge of his nose—sighing heavily before following after her.

Her hand was twisting the knob when he spoke out.

"_Diane._" Jax didn't dare form the vinegar coating his tongue into words until she finally turned around to face him. "You should stick around…Just…just let me say goodbye to her first, Okay?"

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"Hey, Sweetheart," Piney said.

"_Hola,_" Chasity answered, smiling sweetly. She waved her hand at the other club members beside him as she walked past, pulling the clubhouse entrance double doors shut behind her.

"This place is really starting to feel like a clubhouse for teenagers," Tig said, shaking his head.

Padraic and Chibs snickered when Piney slapped Happy over the head for watching Chastity Palmer's ass she sauntered past.

"What?" Happy growled. "She's got some ink on her back. I thought she'd got somebody's crow. Wouldn't want your kid getting shot over screwing someone's Old lady would you?"

"He's with that Donna girl isn't he?" Kozik asked.

"What the Hell do you care?" Tig said, shaking his head. "Why you always so caught up in all this high school drama. They're _teenagers. _Who the fuck cares?"

"It wasn't a crow," Happy declared. "It was a fuckin butterfly."

"_Pretty,"_ Padraic said, chuckling.

"That's Deputy Palmer's little cousin. She's not old enough to get a crow," Tig said. "And Opie and Jax aren't even old enough to be members. Why the Hell would they have Old Ladies?"

"Pretty soon those _teenagers _will be sitting in for church with us," Kozik commented.

Several heads turned as Clay walked back out of the Chapel, still speaking in hush tones with Wayne Unser as he guided the nervous looking Chief towards the exit. As soon as the Charming cop left, SAMCRO's President turned to face his fellow patches.

"Church," Clay ordered simply, strutting back inside the Chapel doors.

"I'm gonna make this quick," Clay said, addressing the group after all cell phones had been dumped, and the room had been scanned for bugs. "There's an APB out on Lowell Senior."

"For _what?" _Kozik questioned.

"His wife went to the police a couple weeks ago," Clay said. "Barbara claims Lowell confessed to sabotaging JT's bike."

"_That son of a bitch!" _Tig hissed. "No wonder he's back on the crank. Piece of shit probably feeling guilty."

Piney shook his head, skepticism twisting up his face. "What's his angle? Lowell's like a brother to John. _Me too. _What the Hell has he got to gain by killing him?"

"We should find out," Happy growled. "…._after we kill that motherfucker."_

"It doesn't make any sense," Kozik mused.

"Unser says she told the cops Lowell was in deep with the _Nords," _Clay lied. "You guys know what went down a couple years back. Darby's still salty about how everything turned out. Killing JT was about Lowell settling his debt but now that he didn't follow through Darby and his crew are looking for him. He took off to protect his wife and kid."

"He needs to die," Happy barked. "Like _a lot."_

"I think he deserves a chance to speak," Piney argued. "We don't shoot first. That's not what we're about, boys. We've _never _been about that. Lowell's been with us since we started. We owe him an opportunity to—"

"He's a damn good mechanic," Clay interrupted. "And I know he's your friend—"

"He's _our _friend—"

"Maybe," Clay urged, "but he's not a _patch. _He's not a member, Piney."

"And who knows what he'll do if the cops catch him first," Tig voiced. "If it's _true _we won't be able to get to him. If it's _not _he could turn rat. We all know the deal. There's only one thing worse than a rat."

Happy nodded, growling, "A _junkie _rat."

"Are you calling for a Mayhem vote?" Piney asked, staring wide-eyed at Clay. "Is that what we're here for?"

Clay shook his head. "We're here to make sure everyone is on the same page about the next run with Romeo. I've got a meeting set up with the Mayan's to settle this beef over what happened with Opie and Jax."

"You can handle that shit on your own can't you?" Piney stood up. "I think I'll head out to Lodi for a friendly chat with our local Aryon brothers. Find out just how chummy Lowell _really _is with them."

"I'm with the Old man," Padraic declared, standing up with him.

Chib stood up next to him, shaking his head. "You can't call a Mayhem vote on Lowell just 'cause of what some crooked cop's been whispering in your ear. I'm with Piney. We figure this shit out first."

"It doesn't matter what we vote," Tig stressed. "We _have _to find Lowell before the cops do."

"I put Unser on it," Clay told them. "As soon as he knows something _we'll _know."

"And until then _nothing_ happens to Lowell," Piney demanded, narrowing his eyes at the man twiddling the gavel in his hands.

"You got it Piney," Clay promised, holding a hand up in mock-surrender. "I won't even call a vote…_yet."_

Piney may have stormed out too quickly to catch it but Kozik hadn't.

Kozik didn't miss the meaningful look exchanged between Clay and Tig as everyone filed out of the room, headed towards their designated Club business plans.

* * *

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Ten minutes had passed since Jax had run from the room.

The laughter from watching him stumble and fall, shooting into the hallway like a bat out of Hell wore off as she'd sat there waiting impatiently. Every minute felt like another hour as she shifted and fidgeted on her bed.

What the Hell was taking him so long?

With all the excitement, the eagerness in his eyes she knew he hadn't changed his mind. Did he decide to hop in Opie's shower? Should _she _take a shower? Tara pulled a thick lock of her hair, sniffing the vanilla-honey scented strands before lifting her arm to do the same to her armpits. She smelled fine. Standing up, she looked at herself through the mirror mounted above her dresser, her eyes widening at the unraveling string hanging from the sides of her panties, the tiny hole at the hem. Pulling them down her legs, she yanked her middle dresser drawer open, scanning the content for the sexiest pair of underwear she had—coming up empty. Nothing stood out to her so she grabbed the Betty Boop pair he'd taken off her that night in his bedroom. Quickly pulling them on, she wondered if she should put another bra on, too. Would he want to take it off her again? Green eyes flitting back and forth between the drawer full of bras and the one she'd wore that day on the floor on top of her math textbook, Tara decided to stay braless. Bending towards her bottom drawer, she pulled a T-shirt Jax probably didn't even remember giving her from inside.

Three years later, the faded gray |SAMCRO| Tee wasn't quite the oversized poncho that it used to be when she slept in it on those nights when homework and studying or indulging in her latest novel weren't enough to keep her thoughts from drifting back to him.

It wasn't _sexy _but the shirt felt….well it just felt right.

Pulling her top drawer open, Tara pulled the mint-flavored tube out of the three pack of lip gloss she'd bought on a whim ages ago. Dabbing it on her lips, she rubbed them together with a light pop—ruffling her hair until she was satisfied with the fact that there was only so much styling she could do with her bare hands. Biting back a curse as she remembered her brush and comb, every hair product she had was on Opie's dresser from the other night when she'd climbed in his window, upset at her Aunt and father about not letting her visit Jax. She'd stayed over there since then on what Opie had rudely donned _the tramp stamp chronicles _(aka her issues with Daddy).

Breaking up with Donna was making him a real jerk.

Walking towards her bed, she debated on if she should sit on top of her covers or pull them back. Option B won out as she pulled the comforter from underneath her pillows, fluffing them against the headboard as she sat in the middle of her bed, her legs crossed underneath her—the shirt stopping at her knees.

In the span of minutes it took him to return, Tara had already changed positions ten different times—alternating between laying on her side, sitting cross-legged, or folding her legs underneath her like a pretzel the way they used to do in fourth grade gym.

Tara was so busy fussing over her hair again as she eyed her appearance in the mirror that she hadn't even noticed his presence until the she felt the bed dip beneath her—until Jax was kneeling behind her, his hands wrapping around her waist as he smiled at her through the mirror.

"I see you kept it," Jax said, grinning. "Opie told me you probably burned it."

Tara leaned back into his embrace, tilted her head to give him better access when he kissed her neck. "Did you find one?" she asked.

"Nope." Tara's eyes opened, the disappointment in his answer and the confusion over his cheerful mood at war as both emotions flitted in and out of her green eyes. "_I found your aunt though."_

Tara rolled her eyes. "Figures," she huffed. "Di _would_ show up when I'm about to lose my virginity. I'm surprised she didn't kick you out because _I need my rest."_

"You know how you said I need to talk to my Old man?" Jax said, rubbing her stomach. "You're overdue for a heart to heart too, Babe. _Talk to her. _She's waiting for you in the kitchen."

"Jackson—"

"She was going to _leave,_ Tara," Jax told her gently. "I'm the one that asked her to stay. There's nothing or _no one _that's getting between us, Tara. Not on my end or yours. You don't have to shut her out. Speaking from experience I know how shitty it feels when you do. Diane loves you. And anything she did was_ because_ she loves you. She's a royal pain in _my _ass too, Tara. And _I'm _the one she's always bashing. If it's not me it's my _family _which is really the same damn thing." Moving around her to sit at the foot of the bed, Jax pulled her onto his lap, brushing her hair back to kiss her cheek. "We can pick up where we left off later."

"Sounds like you're in a rush to get away from me, Teller," Tara half-joked. Narrowing her eyes at him, she commented, "I guess you probably wanna head home to get ready for your next sleepover with _Wendy."_

"Yup," Jax lied, mocking her with his eyes. "She's inviting friends over, too. We're gonna play spin the bottle, seven minutes in heaven _and _truth or dare."

Tara scowled. "Ha…ha."

Jax snickered, his good mood sobering up quickly as he quietly voiced the thought that suddenly occurred to him. "It's getting harder to bite my tongue around Gemma. I know she's up to something with Wendy too. I just hope whatever it is she doesn't end up getting burned."

Tara nodded. "So….you're headed to the clubhouse to hang with Opie?" she suggested, hope evident in her tone.

Jax's frown deepened. "He's been acting funny ever since Sarah left," he admitted. "He won't tell me what I did so I got no idea how to fix it. I'm waiting for him take another swing at me so we can have it out and squash this shit like we always do. We'll work it out eventually though. That's my brother. We always do."

"I know you will," Tara promised. Smiling at him she added, "Make sure when you _do _go to the clubhouse you try not to put any more Prospects in the hospital."

Jax smirked. "I'm actually headed to St. Thomas. I think I'll just hang out with my Old man. Talk to him….like _you_ should do with Diane."

Tara sighed. "_Fine_."

Cupping her face, Jax pressed his mouth to hers softly—the kiss deepening the longer it took him to pull away, the more his hands roamed up and down every curve of her body, settling on her breast, pulling the nipples hardening underneath the fabric of her T-shirt—_his _T-shirt.

Tara stood up suddenly, shoving against his chest—pushing him on his back, straddling his waist. And it was the greatest miracle known to man that Jax was able to wrap his hands around her wrist, stopping her from pulling his belt buckle apart.

_"Jesus Christ, _Tara." He sat up, groaning as she rubbed herself against his crotch, the thin panties she had on doing nothing to seal in the heat of her center pressing against the throbbing between his legs. "I'm trying to be the _good guy _and you're making it hard. _So fuckin hard. _I hope my dick doesn't fall of before I get you alone again 'cause at this rate, it just might."

Tara snickered. "_And all the lay-eee's of Charming Kingdom will weep!"_

Jax rolled his eyes as he gently pushed her off him so he could stand.

"I hope you're better in bed than you are at doing British accents," Jax teased.

Tara rolled her eyes, shoving him. "Just get the Hell out before I _chop_ off your dick, Prince _Smarm-_ing."

Jax reached for her hand. Kneeling slightly, he kissed the back of it. "As you wish…..my Grace."

Tara giggled. "It's _your _Grace, stupid."

"That's what I said," Jax retorted, grinning. "You're _mine…._my _Grace." _Then he spun her around, smacking her ass hard enough to push her forward a little. "Now go talk to your aunt. It's time for _Aunt Di _and _Gracie _to kiss and make up."

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Gemma looked up towards the interior rearview mirror in the center of her car as she backed out of the parking spot. Pausing to survey her reflection, one hand left the steering wheel, fingering the disappointing state of her roots as she frowned at her hair.

_"Shit," _Gemma hissed, ruffling the blonde highlighted mane haloing her head. "I need a touch up." Glancing over at the amused expression of the sixteen year in the front passenger seat, she cocked an eyebrow in question. Nodding up at her forehead, she asked, "Is that your natural color?"

Wendy nodded, smirking. "Highlights and all…._I spend a lot of time in the sun."_

Gemma grinned at her as she pulled out of the Monroe Market parking lot onto the road. "You must take after your father then. Courtney's hair is nothing like yours."

"Wouldn't know," Wendy admitted, shrugging as she stared out through the windshield. "As far I'm concerned the stork dropped me off…..and got the address wrong."

Gemma pursed her lips, mulling something over in her head as she turned onto the parkway. "We're gonna head back to the house and put these groceries up. Then I'm off to the salon for an overdue trim and color. You're one of the lucky bitches," the matriarch teased. "You won't need much but a wash and blowout unless you're wanting to change it up a bit? I think a pixie cut would look cute on you, actually."

Wendy wrinkled her nose. "Then they'll be calling _me _Tinkerbell."

_What?_

Gemma opted to gloss over the latest "nickname" she didn't know of.

"You want to come?" Gemma asked. "You already know it's on me. You can bring your friend uh….what's the name of that girl you're always—"

"_Ima?"_

Gemma nodded. "Yeah. Her. We can swing by and get her, too if you want."

"Well _damn, _Gemma," Wendy said, brown eyes widening. "You must be trying to rack up a shitload of coin in the karma bank because the last time I checked it was _Jackson's _birthday tomorrow, not mine."

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Three bullets rained against the dirt surrounding them as Kozik grabbed Tig's trigger hand, aiming the gun in his grip towards the ground.

"It's _me _asshole!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Tig growled, glaring when Happy held a finger to his mouth signaling for him to shut up. "Clay told you to go with Piney to meet with Darby's crew. What are you doing here?"

"I followed you," Kozik said, dipping down behind the tree Happy and Tig were crouched behind. "I had a feeling Clay gave you and Hap a different set of orders than what he laid out on the table at Church. We both know Hap just rolls with the punches—"

"_I'm gonna punch both of you if you don't shut the fuck up,"_ Happy hissed, peeking around the trunk, eyeing the cabin several feet up ahead.

"Like I was saying," Kozik continued, flashing Happy his middle finger when he turned to glower at him. "I'm here to make sure you don't get yourself killed following Clay's every demand like a blind idiot….as usual."

"He's inside," Happy announced. "I just saw someone walk past the window."

'Who's inside?"

Tig rolled his eyes, sighing. "_Lowell."_

"_What?_" Kozik barked. "You assholes found him and y'all didn't bring it to the table—"

"Ain't no need for that shit," Tig argued. "He's a rat. He's gotta die."

"Nobody's dying today," Kozik declared.

Tig shook his head. "Not your call, Bro."

"It's not _Clay's _call either," Kozik snapped. "We need to call a—"

"Will you pussies shut the fuck up?" Happy grumbled.

There was a loud bang, the sound of a door crashing through.

Happy jumped up. "He knows we're here," he said, running around the tree. "He ran out the back door!"

"Take the left side," Tig instructed, running behind Happy.

"I'm not taking—Tig—_Happ_—You guys can't just—_SHITTTT!_"

Kozik ran after them, pulling the gun from his waist as he rushed around the corner of the house they'd disappeared.

_JT is out of his goddamn mind._

_Clay shouldn't _have _the gavel._

_I don't give a shit if it's temporary._

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Diane looked up from the mug between her fingers as Tara stepped into the kitchen. Walking around the table, Tara skipped past the first two chairs, picking the one at Diane's side, pulling it back to sit next to her.

"Hey," Tara said, meekly.

"Hi," Diane replied, sipping from the steaming mug she was holding like a crutch.

"_I'm sorry," _Tara told her ten minutes later. "I didn't mean what I said, Di. I know all you're trying to do is help me and I love you for that but...it's like…..I'm not used to being, well…._parented. _I handle everything on my own. If it wasn't for Opie...and even _Piney_….I would have been doing shots with Arthur a long time ago. But even with them around I've always felt alone until now. Now I have you back…..and I have _Jackson _back, too. We finally admitted how we felt and ever since then he's been my rock. I know that's probably not what you want to hear. I'm supposed to be a _strong _girl…I'm supposed to be independent and if I need a shoulder to lean you think it's wrong to rely on a boy."

"I know you didn't mean to hurt me, Gracie," Diane admitted. "But there's no denying that there was a grain of truth in everything you said to me. I knew my brother was twisted up. I knew he didn't know how to be a father to you after….he...Art, he's just…not everyone is as strong as you are, Tara. Me and my big brother….we handle pain and grief the same way. We run away from it. I left town….while he stayed and nearly drowned himself in booze every night. We both left you to clean up the mess and I'm sorry for that. But I need you to understand. I didn't run off to be a sorority pledge at some Ivy league school or to pursue some glamorous acting career. I didn't leave you behind to snag a rich husband or because I didn't care about you as long as I got to enjoy my life. I have my own demons…..I have my own past that I was running from….and the other night made me realize that I've never fully dealt with it. I also realized that I've been projecting my past on you and Jackson. I'm so afraid of you making the same mistakes I did. I don't want you to get hurt or wake up one day and have regrets."

"Regrets are a part of life," Tara said. "You can't protect me from them. I'm gonna make mistakes, Di. Maybe even some of the same ones you made. Sometimes experience is the best teacher."

Diane smiled at her, tears shining in her eyes. "When you say things like that it makes me question why I even worry about you at all."

"You _should _worry about me," Tara admitted. "I'm just as afraid as you are. I love school. I love that I'm going to be a doctor but I'm terrified of failure…of being too _ambitious…._afraid that I'm just another Charming townie with dreams too big for me to really pursue. And _Jackson…._Even you asked me if we were still doing our _dance _when you first showed up. I've been dancing around my feelings for him since we were kids. I love him, Diane. And he loves me back. That's why I'm scared that something will happen to us. That's why I lost it and lashed out at you. It felt like you zeroed in on every doubt in my mind….like you knew how scared I am that he'll hurt me…that I'm not as special as he makes me feel…that he'll get bored and move on and I'll have to go back to just me and Opie... whenever he has time for me."

"I'm here now," Diane said, reaching for hand. "I know I'm late but I'm here and I'm always going to be here. And….and….I know you're angry. Arthur's probably the only person you hate more than me—"

"I don't hate you, Di—"

"He's your _father_," Diane continued. "He's far from perfect and he took way too long to get his shit together. But he's _trying, _Gracie. And you wouldn't be so pissed if you didn't still love him. Trust me, sweetheart. I know from experience what it feels like to resent the person you love."

"You're right," Tara admitted. "I still love him. I love my father. If I could stop I _swear to God _I would but I can't…._he's my Daddy," _Tara said, crying. "But I don't trust him and I learned how to live my life without needing him for anything a long time ago, Di. I can't just flip a switch and go back to when I was eight years old. You can't expect me to fall back and expect him to catch me because he's been sober for a month. I've been sober for fifteen years. I was sober through all of this. Through all the pain….every single attack….every insult…every empty bottle he threw. I can't just shake it off."

"I know."

"That's not all you need to know, Diane." Tara squared her jaw, boring into her aunts face as she spoke. "You need to know that no matter what happens…it doesn't matter if I forgive him tomorrow or ten years from now. He _doesn't _get a say in who's a part of _my _life. He lost that right. And _you…._even if you would have stayed you'd _never _have that. I'm a teenage girl remember? I'm young and in love and no one can tell me anything."

"That's what scares me the most," Diane told her.

"Whoever he was he must have hurt you pretty bad," Tara deduced, drinking in the haunting look in Diane's eyes. "I know there's a lot things you would have done differently if you could so I'm not asking that. That's now what I want to know. I want to know if you regret it all. Can you tell me you do? Every time he made you smile or laugh. Every time the tears swelling in your eyes were from joy….every time he held you….every time he made you feel special….like you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him…the only thing that ever _would _matter to him. _That's _how Jackson makes me feel, Di. Deep down I know that's how he's always made me feel when he looked at me, even when I was mad at him…even when we pretended we hated each other. He knows how much I love him. And I know that he's the only guy that can truly hurt me. It's terrifying. _It pisses me off_. Just when I thought I'd close my heart off….that I built a wall strong enough to stop anyone from ever hurting me again….like my father did, here he comes. He can _hurt_ me, Diane. I know he can so you don't have to tell me. I don't need reminding every time you see us together. But things could end between us even worse than they ended with you and your...your _teenage love…_and I still won't regret being with him. I won't want it take it back. Can't you understand that? Even with every bad thing that happened…all the pain I know you still carry with you…_Can you honestly tell me you regret all of it?_ Even the parts that were good?"

* * *

**|REVIEW|**


	67. Chapter 60

**A/N: **Birthday **Eve **continued. (Same day).

**F.Y.I: **Are any of you **Nikita (CW) **fans? What about fans of season 1 of **Revenge **(aka the season before it became unwatchable)**?** I ask this because the actor **Ashton Holmes (aka Nikita's "Thom" or Revenge's "Tyler") **is who I picture whenever I'm writing a teenage Joshua Kohn.

**P.S: **To _Summerd123__, UnemployedBee, KJ0060203, &amp; _everyone else that's been **waiting **for **J&amp;T **to have their **moment.** I've honestly been **super **nervous about writing their next "first" but it _should _be in the next chapter. I'm sorry. Honestly guys I would have never tried to add all the club shit to the story if I knew it would make it so hard to focus on **just **Jax &amp; Tara's teenage love but I've already included them (the adults) so it would be cheap not to see it through. I **promise **every scene without them in it **does** revolve around **something **to do with the two of them or I wouldn't include it. Next fanfic I do will be **totally **from their romantic POV b/c this shit is nerve-wracking lol.

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

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Three days.

It had been three days since Wendy walked in on him about to make the dumbest decision in his life. He hated that she'd caught him at such a weak moment. But somehow all it did was make him appreciate her more for being there. If she hadn't shown up he could have gone through with it—he probably would have. His father was a testament to how easy it was to slip into bad habits that were damn near impossible to shake. He'd let her down and he had no idea how to fix it.

All he knew was that he missed her.

Lowell Harland Jr. looked up at the sound of jangling keys at the front door. Seconds later, the whistling started. It grew louder, the closer his cousin drew to the kitchen where he sat at the table trying to get beyond the first two sentences of his History paper.

And it continued even as Joshua Kohn grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, a packet of granola from the kitchen pantry and sat across from him at the other end of table. It was amazing how the things that ordinarily wouldn't annoy you got under your skin. Lowell's father used to whistle while he did the dishes. He used to whistle as he shuffled the deck when they were playing cards. If it were any other day the whistling wouldn't have bothered Lowell at all. But he was already having a hard enough time focusing on his homework without the whistling—a shrill sort of chirp signifying all the happiness his older cousin was feeling.

Happiness he was beginning to doubt he'd ever experience again.

"Dude, do you mind?" Lowell asked, cocking an eyebrow at the pale-blue eyed nineteen year old sitting across from him.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Joshua said. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

When he'd stopped Lowell nodded his thanks before looking back down at his paper. Not even a full minute had passed before his cousin broke through what little concentration he had once again.

"I just finished dropping Tara off," Joshua told him, grinning from ear to ear when Lowell eyed him quizzically. "Man, she's gotta be the smartest girl I've ever met—the smartest _person. _Sometimes I swear she should be tutoring me! She's such a quick study and she's also really funny and sweet...and _gorgeous._"

Lowell's expression was blank as he stared at him. "I know….._I've known her since I was like four."_

"That's right you grew up together," Joshua mused. "I think she mentioned that before."

"Yup."

"I was actually surprised when she got in contact with me to ask for tutoring," Joshua said. "Seems like her brother didn't really approve of me. There was a little misunderstanding at the mall the other—"

"Her _brother?" _Lowell cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah." Joshua nodded. "I think his name is _Jacob? _Or maybe _Joseph? _It's something with a J. I keep forgetting to ask her about him because every time we're together we end up talking about our love of science. You know at one point I was Pre-Med? I wanted to be a oncologist but then law one out. I guess you could say that's the one thing me and my Old man have in common. He's—"

Lowell shook his head as if to clear the clog in his ears, a wry smile spreading across his face. "Is her brother tall? Blonde hair? Blue eyes?_"_

"I think so."

Lowell snickered. "That's not her brother, Dude. That's her boyfriend…._or something_."

Lowell wasn't sure what Tara and Jax were—he just knew for damn sure they weren't siblings. Siblings—the normal ones at least, didn't do what he and half the school saw Jax and Tara doing in that Janitor's closet.

His cheeks reddened as he flashed back to the memory.

"Tara has a boyfriend?" Joshua asked, his eyes widened.

Lowell shrugged, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Why do you sound surprised? Tara's really pretty and it's like you said. She's super sweet and she's always nice to everyone….well most of the time anyway. She's always been nice to _me. _And sounds like she's nice to you, too."

"Of course a girl like Tara would have a bunch of guys chasing after her," Joshua agreed. "But these past couple weeks….I don't know. When we're together…I don't know. She just doesn't seem like she's in a relationship. And I thought for sure that Joseph guy—"

"—Jackson—"

"That _Jackson_ was more of like a big brother the way he acted when I saw them together," Joshua commented. "I've been wanting to ask her out for weeks now but it seems like every time I try I get all…all…..Are Tara and Joseph serious?"

_Jackson._

Lowell rolled his eyes, smirking. "Serious enough for him to shove a pool stick through your dick if you wink at her."

_Technically he did that for _Wendy, _but that's what _friends _did for each other," _Lowell grumbled to himself. _Why wouldn't he do the same thing for his _not _friend?_

"_What?_"

Lowell shrugged. "I wouldn't go there, man."

Joshua scratched at the back of his neck. "I…umm…I was actually hoping you could talk to her for me. Feel her out. See what she thinks about me. If she…you know…if she would be interested. That way if she's _not…._I won't make things awkward for us since I'm her tutor."

Lowell's eyebrows rose. "You want me to help you move in on Jackson Teller's girlfriend?"

"Or _something," _Joshua added, grinning sheepishly. "You don't even know if they're officially together."

_"Did you miss the part where I mentioned how he likes to play pool?"_

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"Funny running into you here."

Barbara Harland looked up from the Monroe Market circular in her lap, glaring at the six-foot-five man standing in front of her driver's side door. Scanning the thin pages now scattered in her lap didn't require that much concentration. Why the Hell hadn't she heard him when he pulled up?

And more importantly, when would she learn?

Barbara Leeann Kohn had spent her adolescent and adult years dodging her father's tails—every last precinct or P.I buddy he'd sent her way to encroach on her relationships, every attempt she'd made at a private life. Having an officer of the law as a parent and an older brother following in his footsteps had made her crafty. She knew exactly how to slip a tail.

But it was times like this when she truly regretted her insistence on being wholly independent of the suits her overbearing family sent to 'protect' her.

"I'm calling the police," She threatened, snatching her cell phone out of her purse as her eyes darted around the vacant parking lot full of empty cars.

Clay merely smirked at her. "I'll have Unser sending them ten miles in the opposite direction before you can even dial the number nine. I gotta say I'm a little surprised though. The Feds are usually better about keeping their rats under lock and key. Here you are out in the open, no protection. Your son, too. And your husband. But then I guess that's what happens when witnesses are still on the fence….still uncertain about what move they want to make. I bet they're playing hard ball with you…trying to see how long before you crack and go along with everything they say…give them whatever information they want from you in exchange for the safety of your family. That's why you're still here instead of hidden in some shitty motel room under police security right? You're not cooperating. Not completely. Not _yet._"

"And let me guess," Barbara sneered. "You're here to remind me why I shouldn't?"

"I have eyes and ears everywhere, Barb," Clay warned. "I know _exactly _what you and Lowell are up to. That's why I'm here to tell you—"

Barbara shook her head. "I already told you," she sniped. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Your son is though," Clay commented. "And you'll be just as scared as he is when you're planning his father's memorial service. _We found him, Barbara_. I didn't come here to tell you why anything. You already _know_. You knew before you put this shit in motion but you chose to ignore it. That's why I had to _show _you."

"What the Hell do you mean _had _to?" Barbara croaked out, her eyes widening in horror.

Clay leaned down, angling his head in through the window of her car, his own voice barely above a whisper. "Don't worry, Barbara. The SONS always take care of their own. We'll cover all the cost. I'm just curious though. Are we going to need one coffin or _two? _You let me know okay, Darlin? Because if you don't kill this shit with the Feds, your _son _will be the next one to die."

"Next?"

She'd formed the words with her mouth but no sound came out.

Smiling at her, Clay stood upright—pulling the KD-sunglasses from the pocket of his Kutte, sliding them over his eyes. "Such a damn shame," he said, shaking his head. "Lowell was one Hell of a mechanic."

"You're lying," Barbara accused, her voice shaking along with her trembling body as he turned his back to her. "You're just trying to scare me."

"When you're in to see Skeeter just tell him the Club sent you," Clay suggested, throwing a leg over his bike, revving the engine. "He'll take care of everything."

Barbara Harland watched as Clay Morrow rode out of the lot. Flipping her phone open, she found herself at loss for who to call—what to do.

If clay had really gotten to Lowell—If Lowell was….

She didn't even want to think about it.

She simply couldn't handle it.

Barbara didn't know how the Hell she let this happen.

But then she _didn't..._let it happen.

Yet she found no comfort in the fact that this shit wasn't on her.

This wasn't her plan.

She'd listened to him, let him take the lead—followed his request, his instructions to the letter and now with any luck she'd be picking a casket out for him.

Or for her son if she wasn't careful.

She had to be smart about this.

It was time to handle things her way.

* * *

**_One Hour earlier…._**

_"Where's the rest of the guys?" Unser had asked as soon he stepped inside the clubhouse._

_"They're on their way in for Church now," Clay answered. "We got another run coming up next week actually so I'm glad you're here. We're gonna need an extra truck. Gotta a double shipment to deliver. Don't worry you'll be compensated for the last minute rush."_

_"You might want to put a pin in your plans for your run," Unser had told him. "Tell your business associates you need some time off."_

_Clay cocked his head to one side. "The Cartel doesn't _do_ time off. What the Hell you getting at, Wayne?"_

_"That little Quintin asshole's been on the war path ever since Jax put his nephew in the hospital," Unser had explained. "He's been grumbling for weeks and then all of a sudden he's all grins and giggles like a fuckin Gerber commercial or some shit."_

_Clay shrugged. "And?"_

_"ATF is back in town. So is the fuckin FBI far as I'm hearing….They been building a case for months and this last month or so…ever since you sponsored Kyle to prospect for the club Quintin's been helping them. Slipping them Intel."_

_"You worry too much," Clay mused, smirking. "It's gonna give you wrinkles. That prick ain't got shit on us. Having the Feds up our ass? That's a twenty-four-seven occurrence. It's just the cost of doing business. That's why we have people like _you _in our corner to give us a heads up…_on real threats. _Not this bullshit you're feeding me right now." _

_"They've got an APB out on Lowell Harland Sr," Unser spilled. "His wife went to the authorities. Supposedly she got her brother the Fed involved. She claims Lowell came home high as shit, going off on some rant...confessed to sabotaging JT's bike…..and he said he did it on _your_ orders, Clay. He claims he did what he had to do to protect his family."_

_Clay spun around, kicking a hole into the wall. "You gotta be fuckin kidding me!"_

_"They're not buying this whole _misunderstanding_ at the hospital with Gemma and Barbara either," Unser continued. "She confessed to popping Gemma with that needle full of crank in exchange for immunity and her testimony against you."_

_"What about her kid?" _

_"Lowell Junior?" Unser shook his head, his eyebrows raising. "What about him?"_

_The sound of a motorcycle engine rumbled in through the open double doors. Moments later, Tig Trager appeared, swaggering towards them—curiosity swirling in the blues of his eyes._

_"Sup' Elma Fudd," Tig said, nodding up at Unser. Turning towards Clay he asked, "everything okay, Boss?"_

_"Thanks for the heads up," Clay said to Unser. "I want to bend your ear about something else though. Then I'll let you get back to writing out parking tickets. My room is the third door on your left. I'm right behind you."_

_Unser nodded stiffly before disappearing down the hallway._

_"Something I should know?"_

_"Lowell," Clay told him. "I need that shit handled _yesterday, _Tiggy. Unser's got a line on where he is. I can tell. That asshole's got the world's shittiest poker face. Once we have an address I need you to take care of him. Take Kozik with you. Get it done."_

_Tig shook his head. "_Herm's _been asking a lot questions," he admitted. "You know how much he loves asking _why _for everything but lately he's an even bigger pain in the ass. And Lowell, man…..he was his _sponsor. _He's a big part of what kept Koze' clean all these years. He's already probably twisted up about Lowell relapsing and shit. I don't see him being able to—"_

_"Alright, alright," Clay held a hand up. "Take Hap' with you. I don't know why I didn't suggest him in the first place. All he needs to hear is that Lowell betrayed the club…put one of his brothers in danger and he's about as _trigger _happy as it gets."_

_Multiple Harley's revved outside once again—and Clay immediately began walking backwards down the hall leading to the dorm rooms._

_"I'll fill you and the rest of table in on the _why _in Church today," Clay lied. "Just make sure you stick around after for that address."_

_Tig had done what he asked—once again proving that when the dust settled he always had at least one person who would always have his back no questions asked._

_Barbara Harland had been a fool to think her connections could save her._

_She was about to learn the hard way why she should never cross Clay Morrow…_

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He was riding around on a dirt bike.

Not just any dirt bike either—it was the bike that the club always forced Prospects to ride around on. The kind of bike that as Founding SAMCRO member Johnathan Teller's son should have embarrassed him.

But then it was kind of hard to be embarrassed when he still got the same looks of respect, of envy, of desire everywhere he went. It was impossible to feel shame after the way Tara laughed at the sight of him on it, teasing him about how badly he must have wanted to see her _'to ride around on that little thing'. _Nor could he stop himself from smiling at the memory of the sparkle in her green eyes when he'd told her how right she was.

_"Gemma's out pretending she's not planning the birthday party I asked her not to throw me," _Jax had told her. "_And Opie is M.I.A but I missed you, babe. I really wanted to see you."_

Judging by the way she rolled her eyes, he had no doubt that part of her thought he was just trying to charm her—that he was simply being himself, Jackson Teller, the panty-dropping, sweet talker. But it was the way she threw her arms around his neck, the toe-curling kiss she planted on his lips that assured him that there was also a part of her that knew he was telling the truth—and that same part of her felt the same way no matter how many times she'd glared at him for distracting her as she finished her math homework.

Asking Diane to stay behind and talk to her hadn't been easy but he'd known it was the right thing to do. Still, he couldn't wait to be with Tara—to really be with her all the way.

Tara was ready.

And as he stepped through the front doors of Charming's local Pharmacy, Jackson Teller had every intention of making sure he was ready, too.

Swiping the sleeve of his shirt across the sweat beading on his forehead, Jax nodded his head up at the cute cashier sitting on a stool, flipping through a magazine as he walked towards the back of the store. Grabbing a Pepsi from the fridge, he twisted the cap off, taking a healthy swig as he made his way back towards the front with a bag of chips in the crook of his arm. Reaching towards the rack of condoms, he pulled one from off the bracket, tossing it on the counter. As his eyes made their way up to her face, he briefly paused on the silver nametag clipped to the low-cut blouse she was wearing.

Jax grinned at her. "Hey, _Louise."_

Louise Canning didn't return his smile.

"_He remembers my name,_" Louise droned, snatching the condoms off the counter. " Looking up from the box in her hand, she'd caught the confusion in his eyes before he could mask it. "Oh Shit." Louise looked down at her name tag. "You _didn't,_" she accused, narrowing her eyes. "Unbelievable."

"You gonna clue me in at some point, Darlin?" Jax eyed her curiously, one eyebrow raised. She didn't just look familiar. Louise Canning was a townie just like most of the folks living in Charming. He'd grown up seeing her around town all his life. She wasn't a stranger to him. But judging by the glare she was shooting him, he was probably enemy number one where she was concerned.

Louise shrugged. "You should just buy these wholesale," she said tossing the condoms in a small plastic bag with his chips. "It'll save you some money."

"A box at a time keeps me humble," Jax commented, smirking.

Louise rolled her eyes. "Keeps you from knocking chicks up," she bit back, "or spreading diseases in between all the girls you run through. The least you could do I guess. It would have sucked if I ended up getting pregnant or sick. God knows I was buzzed and stupid enough to go along with it even if you didn't have one on you."

Jax's eyebrows threaded together. "What the Hell are you talking about?"

"It was my _first_ time, asshole," Louise snapped. "I didn't expect an engagement ring. Hell, I only half-expected you to keep your promise to call me the next day. I would think you could have at least remembered _my name."_

The more she talked, the longer she glowered at him, the more confused Jax became.

"You trying to tell me I slept with you?" Jax asked her.

"freshman year," Louise sneered, jabbing her finger against the enter button on the register. "Stacy's end of summer party. _Here's your change."_

Louise slammed the bills down on the counter, stalking off towards the back of the store as Jax's hands flew out to catch the quarters, dimes and nickels before they scattered onto the floor.

He'd slept with her.

He had to have done it.

Only a crazy person would lie about something like that. And he'd seen the hurt in her eyes—the way they misted over as if she was seconds away from crying as she stormed off. He never pretended, he never lied. When it came to girls everything he told them, every gesture he made towards them was straight up without the chaser. They always knew exactly what they were getting and he always made it clear what they'd never get out of him. Before the night of his father's accident, Tara was the only girl he'd ever hid from, the only one his pride wouldn't let him be real with. That was why normally being in this position didn't bother him.

But it was bothering him now. He couldn't quite put his finger on why either.

And he didn't have long to consider it when he walked out of the store because standing next to his bike looking a lost puppy was Lowell Junior.

"Hey, Jax," Lowell said. "I'm glad I ran into you. You got a minute? I need to talk to you about something."

"I was actually just headed to see my Old man," Jax answered, nodding. "What's up?"

* * *

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Grocery shopping at Monroe Market had somehow led to a trip to the hair salon. And a wash, trim and blowout on Gemma's dime somehow segued into an hour long shopping trip at the mall that was _supposed _to be about Gemma finding a Hot, new outfit to where to her son's birthday party but somehow ended with three shopping bags-worth full of clothes hanging from Wendy's arm.

"We came in here to find an outfit for _you," _Wendy told her as she watched Gemma pull one outfit after another from the racks and shelves. "When the Hell did this turn into a shopping spree for _me?"_

Gemma Teller rolled her eyes, her hand resting on her hip. "You're the only teenage girl I know that would complain about someone taking her clothes shopping."

"That's probably because I _am _the only teenage girl you know," Wendy responded. "You know…other than the one you secretly want to kill for stealing your son from you."

Gemma spun around, ignoring the black, shredded shirt that fell from the hanger in her hand to glare at the sixteen year old blonde standing behind her. "_Excuse me?"_

"Remember when I said Jax used to tell me shit about Tara?" Wendy reminded her, one eyebrow cocked. "He schooled me on a few things about _you_, too. No need to be salty about either because it's the kind of shit I would have picked up on by myself eventually. I might not be good for much else but I'm usually spot on about reading people. _What the Hell is up with all of this?"_

"_Careful_, Sweetheart," Gemma warned, bending over to pick the fallen shirt from the floor. "You're very quick with your mouth, say whatever pops in your head and you don't give a shit who you say it to or in front of. You're a lot like _me _which is probably why I normally find it amusing. Don't let that fool you into thinking you can disrespect me. Especially when I'm rolling out this whole _Martha Stewart _routine for you. I gotta tell you. It's starting to wear real thin, too."

"I didn't ask you to do any of this," Wendy argued, cocking her own hip as she crossed her arms. "And I'm not saying I don't appreciate it either. I'm saying I don't _understand _it. My last name might be Case but my first name is _Wendy, _Gemma. It's not _Charity. _I'm not accusing you of anything. But it's like I said. I pick up on things. And I know it's about more than you being a _good Christian woman _if you get my drift."

Gemma smirked, shaking her head. "You must really think I'm just a duplicitous bitch."

_With one Hell of a right hook so I'm not going to say it...out loud…._

"Why are you helping me at all, Gemma?" Wendy asked, honestly. "What are you getting out of this?"

"My _son_," Gemma confessed. Her smile faltered, a sadness too deep to be feigned darkening her features. "I miss my son, Wendy. It seems like ever since his father's accident he's been distant….he avoids me now….it's like he hates me, or he blames me for something I had no control over. And it doesn't help that….that _Tara _bitch has his ear. She's poisoning him to me. I know she is. How could she do that? She knows what it's like to lose a parent. I'm his _mother. _It doesn't matter what I do to anyone else I'm always going to have him. I am _always _going to love and protect him. Jackson should know that."

Wendy shook her head, smiling. "Jackson is the very _definition_ of a Momma's boy," she assured her. "Trust me. You don't have to worry about him shutting you out for too long."

"That's not the point I'm making," Gemma explained. "All this time I thought he was too lost in some childhood crush he never got over. But now I know Tara isn't the one he really cares about. It's _you."_

_The Fuck?_

Wendy laughed. "I'm gonna need you to give me the name of your dealer. Because whatever shit _you're _smoking I want in! _Jesus Christ, _Gemma. You gotta be kidding me with this. You know what? You don't even have to say anything else. You want to dress me up and try to make me Jackson Teller's wet dream, be my guest. As long as I get to keep the shoes and the clothes after this blows up in your face."

_"He could have died,_" Gemma snapped, raising her voice as she finally lost her temper. "He ran into Mayan territory—a bar full of the same men that nearly killed me and his younger brother years ago. He did that for _you. _My son risked his life, every ounce of logic in that boys head flew straight out the window when he saw what that asshole did to you, what he did to your _mother. _Thanks to my son the man that's been terrorizing you and your mother is going to spend the rest of his life pissing in a bag. And you want to know something else? Courtney remembered every angry word he said to her. Those Mexi-asshole were pointing guns in his face and all he could focus on is telling your mom how much she didn't deserve you…how much you didn't deserve _her _and everything she puts you through. I know what jaded looks like, sweetheart. I see it every time I look in the mirror. I had a shitty mother, too. And somewhere down the line I learned not to give a shit what anyone thought of me. But I also learned to love myself."

"You think I don't love myself?"

Gemma nodded. "I think your mother screwed you up real bad, Baby," she replied. "She's got you convinced you're not worth loving. Not even by my son."

"He doesn't love _me, _Gemma," Wendy told her. "All this shit you're describing right now? All the things he did for me? _That's the son you raised. _Jax is a good guy. He's cocky, he spoiled and he ignores his mother because she doesn't like his girlfriend. But no one could ever call him heartless. He was looking out for me. He's the one person I have in my life that always looks out for me and he does it without any strings. He's there for me without expecting shit else but somebody to get high and do shots with when he _hates _his girlfriend. I'm fine with the position I'm in. I'm not looking for a promotion. That might make you think I'm damaged but it is what it is. And I hope you can respect me for telling you this because it's like you said. I say what's on my mind. _I'm not going to let you fuck up the one good thing I got going just because—"_

"I'm not trying to ruin anything," Gemma interrupted. Wendy's eyes widened slightly as sudden tears welled at the corners of the SAMCRO Matriarch's eyes. "You wanted to know what my _ulterior motive _was so I'm telling you. I asked you to stay because I thought Jackson would be around the house more. And yeah, maybe I was hoping to use you to somehow fix this shit between us...My husband is in the hospital. And if I'm honest...my marriage was in the headlights of that semi-truck before John got hurt. I already lost one son. I don't want to lose another. People like us don't do well without family, Sweetheart. Jackson's given you a taste of what that's like and you don't want to ruin it. I get it. I don't want to lose him either. The difference is...I _can't _lose him. _He's my son_." Gemma swiped a hand underneath her eyes, smiling at her as she placed the shirt in her hand back on the rack. "We should head out. I got a shitload of party stuff to do...You're still helping me?"

_Wow._

Wendy Case was never one to pull punches for anyone. She told everything just as it was and didn't bite her tongue for anybody. But even she had trouble admitting certain things. What Gemma Teller was feeling was something she understood well—something she'd never even cop to herself so could she really blame the scorned mother for trying to scheme her way to a solution without admitting what the problem was?

_You're lonely. _

"I already told you it's optional," Gemma reminded her. "I could really use you though...so I'm _asking."_

Wendy nodded once. Reaching towards the rack, she grabbed the shirt Gemma had just put back in a different color. "And if you buy me _this," _Wendy said, grinning coyly at her, "I'll even wear a hairnet."

Smirking at her, Gemma snatched it from her. She placed the red shirt back on the rack, pulling the one she'd picked out originally in place of it. "You're getting the _black_ one," she said, leaving no room for debate as she walked off towards the register. "It'll look better with the boots I picked out for you."

Wendy rolled her eyes, her signature sardonic smile upturning the corners of her pursed lips. "Ooo-kay, _Gemma."_

* * *

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"So you're like a millionaire or something, _right?"_

Duncan tilted his head as he smiled at her, pink tinting his cheeks slightly as he reached around—massaging the nape of his neck as if he had a cramp.

"Actually," Duncan corrected, clearing his throat. He leaned towards her, lowering his voice as he held a hand in front of his mouth. "_I'm a _billionaire."

Diane rolled her eyes, turning to toss the grater in her hand into the kitchen sink as Tara laughed at him.

"Wow," Tara said, smirking. "All that money and you still couldn't buy your wait out of this."

"Hey!" Diane shouted, slapping Tara on her arm.

Tara merely shrugged. "The only reason I agreed to this is because you told me my misery would have company," she told her. Looking over at Duncan, she smiled as she layered the aluminum pan on the counter in front of her with no-bake lasagna noodles, simmering pasta sauce and the grated cheese in the bowl her aunt had just given her. "_Diane seems to think you hate Arthur as much as I do._"

Duncan cocked an eyebrow. "You call your father _Arthur?"_

"That's his _name," _Tara retorted, mumbling under her breath, "…._it sure as shit ain't _Daddy…"

Standing next to her, Diane sighed. "The point of this dinner is for everyone to get to know each other," she stressed. "Not use my _recovering _alcoholic brother for batting practice."

"She's determined to make me a _Daddy's girl _again," Tara told Duncan, nodding her head towards Diane. "What are you in for?"

"Dee thought it would be nice for to meet the man she's_—"_

"Duncan!" Diane shrieked.

Tara's eyes darted back and forth as a very tense, silent exchange passed between the two adults in the kitchen with her. "You got something you want to tell me, Di?"

Diane slapped a hand across her forehead. "I bring this shit on myself, don't I?"

"In the words of Big brother Opie," Tara answered, narrowing her green eyes at her, "_Y-uuup."_

* * *

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Jackson pushed the door open—his grin nearly wide enough to hurt his face as he was greeted with a smile he hadn't seen touch John Teller's eyes since they'd lost his brother Thomas three years before.

This was the father he'd grown up with—the one he'd missed.

"I would ask you if you snuck your mother's car out again," JT told him. "But tomorrow's a national Holiday for Gemma so she's probably riding all around town shopping and planning."

Jax smirked, sliding the chair closer to his bed before sitting down. "I stopped complaining about the birthday parade she throws me years ago," he said. "Every time I did the year after was ten times worse. She's the _real _reason everyone's always calling me the Prince."

_Still in denial about how much of a Momma's boy you are, I see._

"How'd you get here?" JT asked. "I know it wasn't Prospect. He's a couple rooms down the Hall from me last I heard."

Jax nodded. "You know that dirt bike you guys always force the club prospects to ride around on?"

JT chuckled. "You must be _real _desperate to see Tara."

Jax cocked an eyebrow. "You two on a first name basis now?"

"She called me a _pussy," _JT told him. "To my _face. _And she said it more than once. I'm thinking we kind of have to be on a first name basis after that." John Teller laughed at the expression on his son's face.

"Wow," Jax exclaimed. "I guess that shouldn't be hard to believe since she called you and the rest of the club a bunch of redneck biker thugs in front of half the town."

"She's a smart ass just like Piney says," JT agreed. "But the way I see it, if this whole doctor thing doesn't pan out for her she'd make one Hell of a personal trainer. At this rate she'll have me running track next week."

"The more you talk the more confused I'm getting," Jax admitted, shaking his head. "And how do you know Tara wants to be a doctor?"

"_Surgeon," _JT amended. "She wants to be a surgeon."

Jax nodded, blue eyes drifting towards the window. "She said you guys talked when I was…..after what happened with me and that _asshole _Kyle."

"She's almost finished with the recommended therapy sessions her doctor prescribed," JT told him. "But she already promised she's sticking around until I'm on my feet without the crutches or the wheelchair. I don't know how your mom could ever question why that girl's got you wrapped around her finger so tight. She's a sweetheart. But then she always was, especially before her mom passed."

"I didn't think you noticed."

"Back when I was in high school, I had this English teacher," JT mused. "_Mrs. Riggins. _I was in her classes my first two years. English, Journalism, and Creative Writing. She was the only reason I didn't drop out until I was seventeen. I stayed in school for _her_ classes….." Jax smiled at the hearty chuckle rumbling from his father's chest. "…I was a rascal son of a bitch just like you are now. I always gave my teachers a hard time….whenever I bothered to show up for school. But for _some_ reason she saw potential in me….thought I was a...a beautiful writer..._poetic, _she said. There was this saying she loved using. She used to say it over and over again. Especially when one of us thought we'd got one over on her. She used to tell us, _every shut eye ain't sleep." _

Jax smirked. "I've actually heard that one before, _Old_ Man."

"It's _true," _JT told him. "I know I've been in my own head….I've been out of it for a while now….closed off to everyone, including you. Sometimes even when you needed me. But that wasn't ignorance son. That was me being _selfish…_putting myself first instead of you and my brothers. I've been selfish, Jackson, not blind. _I notice everything. _I just don't feel the need to speak on it. And sometimes you learn more when you talk less."

"_Jesus. _You're like a fuckin fortune cookie," Jax joked.

JT chuckled. "I pay attention to what's important," he assured him. "Like the girl who's got my son riding around town on a scooter...Or the look on your face when you first walked in here before I gave you an out. A way to avoid what you really came here to ask me…."

Jax smiled wryly at his father, nodding once. They both knew what was coming—and it wasn't a question Jax hadn't already been asked many times before then.

_"What's on your mind, Son?" _John Teller asked him.

And for the first time in years Jackson Teller found himself contemplating the question.

And giving his father an answer in the form of words instead of an angry, retreating back.

"_Ever since I was younger all I wanted was a Harley and Kutte_," Jax admitted. "I couldn't wait to be a part of the club…..to be a _motorcycle enthusiast," _he said, laughing along with his father as he made air quotes. "… I was never going to be a _scholar_….Hell, studying with Tara was the only reason I kept my grades up at all in Junior high. I wanted to be just like my Old man. Fix cars and party every other night. Go on long rides for days….weeks at a time. You guys always seemed so…..so _liberated _from all the bullshit people like Mason are always trying to beat into my head. _Then Tommy got sick….._and it wasn't just a bad heart. It was what started it all….it was the first thing that triggered it….the day that _Mayan _broke into our house and attacked Mom…..when he tried to hurt _us….._That was the first time I realized what the Club really was. It blew my mind and I'll admit it….at first I was scared _shitless…._and that day Gemma talked you guys into teaching me and Ope' how to shoot, I couldn't even aim the gun let alone pull the trigger….at first...but then Ma reminded me of how helpless I felt…..I flashed back to all the anger—the _rage _I felt when I thought something might happen to my little brother or my mother if I hadn't fought for them….if I hadn't done what _you _would have done….what could happened if I didn't learn how to do what you _did _to that asshole that tried to hurt them….that tried to hurt _my _family. All I saw was _red _when I pulled that trigger. Over and over until the gun clicked. Gemma looked like she wanted to throw me a parade bigger than any birthday party she ever gave me or Thomas. But I didn't know how _you _felt. I wasn't sleeping….my eyes weren't _shut _but I couldn't read you. Were you scared? Afraid of all the things you might not be able to protect me from? Afraid that the one thing you couldn't protect me from was myself? When you...when you said it….I flipped out on you. I didn't want to hear it….I was _afraid _to hear it but it's been on my mind ever since then. And no matter how hard I try I just can't wrap my head around it, Dad. So I'm asking you this because I need to know. You said _this doesn't have to be my life. _I know what you meant and when you said it I knew you _meant _every word but what I don't get is _why. _SAMCRO is the life you created for yourself but it's _been my_life. It's the only one I've known since Gemma put that beanie with the _Reaper _on my head the day I was born. _Why don't you want me to be a part of your legacy?"_

* * *

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His pickup truck was parked in front of the house.

But his bike wasn't in its usual spot, leaning against its stand below his half-shuttered garage door.

Piney Winston wasn't home at the moment, but his sixteen year old son was.

And that was very fortunate.

Because the seventeen year old, raven haired girl walking up his front steps was looking for him.

Donna Lewis wrapped her knuckles against the front door, flipping her hair back as she waited. There was a pregnant pause between the moment his footsteps stopped in front of the door and the two seconds it took for him to unlock and open the door, turning his back to her to assume his earlier position on the living room couch.

"Hi," Donna said, shutting the door behind her. Walking towards him, she didn't miss the way he slid over, widening the gap she'd already left between them when she sat on the couch next to him. "You haven't been here all day, have you? I came by earlier but no one answered."

"I was at the clubhouse."

Donna nodded. "Tara said you were probably there," she told him. "So I went by there but I couldn't find you there either…."

Opie shrugged, stuffing chips in his mouth as he continued to flip through the channels on the TV screen in the center of the room. "_Here I am."_

"I wanted to talk to you," Donna said.

"_So talk."_

Donna inhaled deeply through her nose, slowly blowing a heavy breath out through her mouth. "It would be a little easier if I didn't have to compete with _Beavis and Butthead."_

Opie clicked the television off, angling his body towards her as he slurped from the cup of juice he held in place of the remote. "'Sup?"

Had she really said it would be _easier?_

"I guess you were probably with that Chastity girl," Donna commented, looking down at the gap of couch in between them. Braving a glance up at the jaded expression on his face, she added quietly, "_I see—well I've _heard _you guys have been hanging out ever since she moved here with her cousin….that Deputy woman."_

Opie smirked. "You know me Donna," he joked. "The _new _girls always love me. I've got my fingers crossed this one doesn't turn out to be a cheating whore like my first girlfriend though….or a basket of crazy like my second one…unless she comes with a friend or two. I always liked mixed _nuts. _I'm starting to think Jax might be onto something. Maybe I should just stick to variety. _Relationships are bullshit."_

"You're not the only one that got hurt," Donna said, narrowing her eyes. "We _both _did. I know it took me longer than usual to….to _cool off _but I'm here now. And I want to talk to you, Opie. I want _us _to talk. But if you're going to be an asshole I won't even bother."

There he was shrugging his shoulders again. And this time he added a finger—pointing towards his front door for good measure. "I didn't ask you to come here," Opie told her simply. "I stopped begging you to talk to me _weeks _ago. You want to leave? _Leave. _Don't worry, I won't forget to watch your _cute ass _when you go."

"Opie—"

"How are things with you and….uh…What's his name?" Opie wondered. "That jock I punched in the face that day at school…same one I saw you kissing at the diner when _Tara _annoyed the Hell out of me until I let her take me out on my birthday. How's his _eye_?"

Donna blanched. "We're not together," she mumbled. "We never were. Not really. Not like me and—"

"So you were just _fuckin _him then."

Donna shook her head, eyes wide. "No, it wasn't like that!"

"Did you sleep with him?" Opie asked.

"We weren't together," Donna said, gritting her teeth as her eyes narrowed to slits. "And don't think her _name _is fooling anyone. You've had your hand up that _Chastity _bitches skirt since she got here. So miss me with the fuckin double standard!" Opie's chuckle only incited her anger more. "We _both _tried to move on, Opie. And judging by the nasty attitude you're giving me neither one of us could!"

"Tell the truth Donna," Opie goaded, laughing harder. "Why'd you dump him? Let me guess. You didn't like the way he smiled at the waitress when he took you out to eat."

"He was never my _boyfriend_," Donna exclaimed. "We hooked up twice. It was a mistake, Opie. He was just—"

"_Hooked up," _Opie echoed. "That's code for sex. So you _did _sleep with him. I Hope enjoyed him because hanging out with Chastity sucks…._but in the fun way," _he lied, winking at her.

When she spoke again her voice was thick with the tears she was fighting. "Can you please _stop?_ I know you're pissed but you_….you never treat me like this."_

Opie widened his eyes. "I thought I treated you like shit," he mused. "I must have. You kicked me to the curb to jump in bed with some other dude."

"I keep telling you it _wasn't _like that," Donna squeaked. The way her nail grazed her cheek was sure to leave a scratch as she swiped her hand across her face in haste to wipe away her tears—tears that didn't seem to make a damn bit of difference to the teenage boy sitting in front of her.

Opie conjured his very best 'And how does that make you feel?' face, opening up his imaginary Psych patient journal as he folded one leg under him. "_What was it like, Donna?" _he taunted.

"What _you're_ feeling right now?" Donna challenged, sniffling. "That's how I felt the _entire _time Sarah was here. That's how I would _still _be feeling if she hadn't left"

"So you fucked Marcus." Opie bit back, too angry to remember he'd been pretending he didn't' remember the guys name. "That you _evening _the score?"

"MAYBE IT WAS!" Donna screeched, jumping up. "I don't know! I was just trying—"

"This isn't a fuckin game," Opie snapped, his nostrils flaring. "Jesus….no wonder you wouldn't go for Jax. It would be like dating _yourself_. I am _not _ a relationship expert...Hell, thanks to my parents the only thing I know is how easily they turn to shit. And despite what you _chicks _believe guys have feelings too and you shit all over mine. Sarah was the _first _girl I loved and she burned me worse than you did! But we didn't _breakup. _We never _decided _we were better off as friends and I didn't get to call her a trifling _bitch _when I found out she was fuckin Jaxbehind my back. The night I found out….the _only _reason I _ever _found out was because she was high as shit and running her mouth to get under Tara's skin. The next day was the Prince's _birthday. _The next time I saw her was Jax's party. She overdosed on the sidewalk in front of his house and I got to watch an EMT stick a fuckin needle the size of your am in her chest. That was the _last _time I saw her before her asshole father shipped her off. We didn't _have _an ending. Not until _you _moved here. When I met you that _was _our ending…..but I _still _never said goodbye to her. I never lied to you. I told you _all _about the girlfriend that fucked me over. You wonder why I never filled in all details? _THIS _is why. Because you blow everything out of fuckin proportion. Your ex….and your childhood BFF burned you just as badly as Sarah screwed me and I'm still paying for what _those _assholes did to you. Sarah could have died, Donna. _DEAD. _The girl I grew up with. My first kiss even if it was a _triple-dog dare _from _Lady Tee. _The first girl I said _I love you_ to_. _She almost died..._again. _And then I found out she was leaving—_again._ And I wanted to say goodbye to her this time. Just because I care about her doesn't mean I want to be with her. Until she showed up she hadn't even crossed my mind since I—"

"But she _did _show up!" Donna shrieked, shaking her head.

"And I still wanted _you!" _Opie said. "I love _you _but that's just not good enough for _Donatella, _the Daddy's girl that was used to getting everything she wants until her mother moved her to Redneck County with her new fiancee. You'd rather pick fights with me over _what if's _instead of focusing on what it _is. _I'm done letting you stress me out over shit I can't control. And as far as females go I'm done letting ALL of you think the sun rises and sets on your asses because _I'm _the one that gets _fucked _in the end, and No, Donna. Not in the _fun_ way. I told you how I felt and your answer was ditch me and fuck somebody else. Tara might be sister. Or she might _not _be. Either way we're not conjoined twins. We don't share the same _brain. _So just because she sweeps the shit my best friend does under the rug doesn't mean I'm doing that with you. _I'm d—_"

"What are you talking about, Opie?" Donna sat back down, her eyebrows threading together. The silence that followed confirmed that she'd both heard _and _understood him right.

Even from the very beginning she always seemed to...except for when it really counted.

Unlike now.

"You think Tara's….._you think she's your sister? _How?"

"I don't know," Opie answered finally, turning away from her to face the black screen of the TV. "That's what Sarah told me."

Donna rolled her eyes, sighing. "She's a lying cunt," she said as gently as she could manage given her words. "You _know _that."

Opie's head jerked towards her. "What the Hell does she have to gain from lying about that? She's _selfish _Donna. She thinks about herself first but she's not evil."

"Opie—"

"_She never _tried _to hurt me," _Opie told her. "She used me. I was _her _Plan B when Jax ignored her. That was about _her and him. _That wasn't about hurting me. This wasn't either, Donna. I know it wasn't."

"So you believe her."

Opie shook his head, teeth digging into his bottom lip. "I really don't fuckin want to," he admitted. "If it's true….._Tara's _the reason my mom left. If it's true that means Pop broke the rules. Tara's mom wasn't some road pussy he hooked up with on a run. The way he used to look at her when he thought no one was paying attention….my _mother _noticed it, too. If this shit is true that's why she split."

_And after seeing you on that asshole Marcus' lap I really can't fuckin blame her._

"But you don't know if it _is _true," Donna argued quietly, scooting closer to him. "Tara...she said you and Piney been fighting. Is that why? Did you….did you _ask _him? Or are you flipping out on him over the all the facts you've already _made up_ in your head?"

Opie cocked an eyebrow at her. "You mean like you can't seem to stop doing to me?"

Donna smiled. "Exactly like it."

"Just like everything else with Sarah all this shit leads straight back to the guy I helped shove Kyle's face in the sand when he kicked Tara's bike over," Opie told her. "_Jax knows."_

Donna nodded, the tops of her fingernails ghosting against the denim of his jeans as she subtly closed the gap between them. "That's why you kicked his ass that day in the hospital."

"I felt like beating him bloody," Opie griped, clenching his jaw.

"You_ did," _Donna reminded him. "Both your faces looked like Carrie on Prom night when they finally broke you apart."

"I can't even be mad at him, Donna," Opie told her, shaking his head. "I got no right. It would make me the biggest fuckin hypocrite in the world if I am. But every time I think about asking him…talking to him about it I can't stop my hands from balling into fists."

Donna didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until he turned his palm up, lacing his fingers with hers instead of pushing her hand away when she placed it on top of his.

"You _should _be mad," She encouraged. "I know he's your best friend and you'll always love him no matter what. I saw that the night of our first date….when _you _ditched me to make sure he was okay. He's your brother. And you're always there for each other. I _love _that about you. And it's one of the few qualities I see in _him. _But, Opie…having his back all the time doesn't mean it's okay for him stab you in yours. If this is true—and I'm sorry but I can't go by _Sarah's _word alone…._if _it's true, that means he's been lying to you for however long he knew about it."

Opie smirked. "How long you think he's known?" he wondered aloud. "_Six _years_?_ That's how long I've been lying to him."

Donna was squinting her eyes at him again. "Opie?"

Opie sighed, looking down at the joining of their hands. "_Gemma cheated on his father with Clay Morrow. _He's the patch Jax's father gave the gavel up to. The first time I caught them I didn't even think nothing of it then though. From what me and Jax saw _everyone _was always kissing somebody in the clubhouse. And it wasn't usually the same chick…or the same patch they were kissing the last time we saw them. I didn't learn about all the _clauses _and rules….or even about how fucked up it was for one of JT's brothers to be kissing his wife until I was older. Years later I'd shrugged it off until I caught them again. I actually remember the day, too. It was Jax's birthday. It's like I couldn't take two steps without overhearing or seeing some shit I wasn't supposed to. Starting with Pop slapping the taste out of Gemma's mouth because she was talking shit about Tara's mother."

"_Oh my God."_

"Yeah." Opie chuckled bitterly. "That's why I'm thinking it's true. But you know what? The first time I saw Clay and Gemma together didn't have to be the first time they stabbed Jax's Old man in the back. That was _six _years ago. Thomas was born around that time….."

"Jesus Christ," Donna hissed. "Why can't you men ever keep your dick in your pants?"

Opie's eyebrows rose, a taunting smile breaking through the grim expression on his face. "So the _female _in the equation doesn't factor in, huh?"

Donna giggled. _"Sorry." _Opie shook his head, leaning back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling just as he'd been doing when they were in his bedroom weeks ago. When he'd tried to convince her that he loved her more than he ever loved Sarah Hale but she refused to listen. Pressing her palm to his face—when he slowly dropped his chin to look at her, Donna could only hope he listened to her. And that he believe her. "I mean it, Opie," she told him. "_I'm sorry…_and I love you, too._"_

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**|REVIEW| please. {10,000 wORDs}**


	68. Chapter 61

**FYI: **I almost broke my TV screen AND my laptop, y'all. How, you ask? **I nearly threw my computer! **_WHY, asks my therapist..._ I was in the middle of finishing the last section of **this **chapter...I **FINISHED **it...and **THEN **when I hit the _SAVE_ button I got a "area 503" code. I lost **everything **except the first half that I'd already cut and pasted into a MS word document. **Never again **will I write through the Docu-manager. I felt like saying fuck it and just typing any old thing but the second half is what you've been **waiting **for. I'm too tired to write the last **FIVE **sections over (with **FOUR **of the five sections being exclusively Jax &amp; Tara romancy-times) or to even recall all the words so I'll try like HELL to get it up for you soon. And on the plus side, **treebry2121, **it looks like you'll be getting your **all **Jax &amp; Tara chapter since that's what got lopped off.

**A/N: **As I'm sure some of you have noticed, I love namedropping random characters into the story if the role fits the person I'm picturing as I type so if you _think _you recognize the name from another show, movie, or novel you're probably right lol. (Doesn't mean any part of their original story factors in. I'm merely using the name and perhaps occasionally their personality.)

**P.S: **I don't know what the f*ck happened with the site but throughout those hours of down time while i stewed over my lost writing I decided to make a page on facebook so if you guys are on there like my page so we can chat. It's facebook slash VeritableOldLadyCrow. Now I have a way to chat with you guys if the world ends on FFnet again lol.

\- **Veritable Old Lady Crow**

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"They left before we did," Piney mused. "Ride here took at least forty-five minutes. You hear from Kozik, yet?"

Chibs shook his head, pulling a prepaid cellphone from his pocket to check for missed calls before verbalizing his answer. "Not yet."

"He'll be fine," Padraic said.

"Yeah." Piney stood up from the seat of his bike, climbing off it at the same time as the patches parked next to him. "Let's just handle this shit so we can head back before the _wrong _somebody gets killed."

"_Aye_."

They were a coordinated trio, stalking side by side down the road, through all the wild, overgrown weeds and grass leading up to a weathered, two-story house—the home of Ernest Darby.

Kicking his foot into the cheap screen door, Piney coughed—clearing his throat of the dust blowing into his face. Footsteps pounded from inside, seconds later revealing the man of the house himself—holding a sawed off shotgun at his side as he stood in the doorway.

"The Hell you assholes doing here?"

"We made a deal a couple years back," Piney said.

"No, you made _demands," _Darby amended. "The brotherhood agreed to—"

"Where's your manners, _Ernie?" _Piney asked, cutting his rant short. "This ain't a conversation we need to be having through a door."

"I got company," Darby grumbled.

"Always nice to make new friends." Padraic yanked the screen door open, shoving him and his shotgun aside as he entered his house uninvited—a snickering Chibs and Piney trailing in behind him.

_"Oh Shit!"_

The friends lounging, smoking up, playing cards and watching TV in Ernest Darby's living room weren't new—they weren't strangers at all. And in the seconds it had taken for Padraic Telford to deduce that he recognized at least two of them, all four men were pulling guns from their waists, off the coffee table, jumping up—aiming towards them.

Piney, Chibs and Padraic reacted accordingly—drawing their own weapons just as Ernest ran past them, both arms held out like a cross guard directing traffic.

"HEY, HEY, HEY!" Ernest shouted. "Everybody needs to calm to the fuck down."

"New friends," Piney echoed, shaking his head. "More like _old _ones."

_"Jesus Christ," _the youngest of the four men hissed, nodding his head towards the youngest Scotsman to the left him. "I _told _you that Irish asshole would come back!"

"_Scottish," _Padraic corrected, glaring. "You knew I was coming, eh? _This _the welcome back party you planned me?" Padraic quickly scanned the room as he aimed the glock in his hands at him. "I expected more, _Dewey."_

"FUCK," Dewey exclaimed, panic swirling in the twenty-something year old's eyes as he wiped at the sweat suddenly pouring down the sides of his face. "Look, Man. I don't know how you found out or who the fuck told you but—"

"_It was that bitch!" _the bald-headed man still sitting on the couch growled as he glowered at the three SAMCRO Patches standing around him. "I told you, you should have just killed her. Might have sent a better message. Maybe our Aryan Brothers might have taken us seriously instead of making some bullshit handshake deal with these nigger-lovin'—"

"Hey," Dewey interrupted. Slowly he dropped the hand holding his gun to his side. Eyes on Padraic as he laid the pistol down on the coffee table, he held his hands up in a surrender stance that wasn't the slightest bit feigned as he shook his head at him. "I was just following orders. I was the lookout. I'm not into that kind of—"

_"Lookout for what?" _Piney questioned.

Chibs shook his head, eyebrows scrunching together. "The Hell is this idiot talking about?"

Padraic, Chibs and Piney all the looked at one another, twin expressions of confusion on their faces.

"_Are you kidding me with this shit? You ain't gotta explain a goddamn—"_

"Shut the fuck up, _Timmy!" _Dewey snapped. "I'm not taking the hit for this!"

"What the Hell are you dick-for-brains talking about?" Darby interjected, eyes darting back and forth between his invited guest and the ones that had forced their way into his house.

"That's what I want to know," Piney commented, cocking his head sideways as he studied the fear in Dewey's eyes.

"That's what you came here for?" Darby challenged, nodding his head towards his fellow Nords. "You got some to shit to settle with anyone of them I need to know the facts. _I'm _the one running point now and I don't take kindly to people shooting up my house or showing up unannounced. I _always _find a way for the _Nords _and the _SONS _to stay civil. Ain't no need in you riding up, raising guns to my crew."

"Your _crew _pulled on us," Chibs told him, sneering.

"Just tell me what the Hell this about," Darby demanded.

"Word around town is this whole _staying civil _with the SONS is bullshit," Piney accused, nostrils flaring as he stepped closer to him. "My brother laid down on his bike I-95 couple weeks ago."

Darby nodded. "We all heard about JT. I hear he's recovering nicely."

"Right now my focus is on why he's _recovering _in the first place," Piney told him.

"I look like some redneck trucker to you?" Darby shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't run that asshole off the road. What the Hell does this shit have to do with me _or_ my crew?"

Padraic tilted his head to one side, squinting his eyes at the sweating man, tapping his fingers against his lap nervously as the balls of his feet jumped up and down.

When he was fifteen years old, Padraic Telford's mother sent him to the U.S to live with his Uncle to keep him safe from the dangerous life she'd chosen for them when she married one of the Irish Kings. Dewey Crowe was the first friend he'd made when he came to Charming, California. Padraic's uncle Filip Telford, and all of his SAMCRO brothers—the loving, brotherly bond they shared with each other and loyal club friends like the _Grimm Bastards _had soon taught him that all prejudice and racism his stepfather Galen had instilled in him was bullshit. Padraic and Dewey's friendship didn't last long after that. And as fate would have it, Dewey made the obvious choice to follow the family tradition of joining the _Nords _around the same Padraic had finally convinced his uncle to go against his sister's wishes and let him prospect for SAMCRO. They'd crossed paths plenty of times since their decision to join opposing sides of the Outlaw world. But there was never a moment the young Scotsman could think of off hand when Dewey had ever done something to him personally.

Especially something that would make scared shitless about him returning Stateside.

"You a junkie now or something?" Padraic asked, inching closer to him, noting the way the guy trembled under his gaze. "What the Hell you so afraid of_?"_

"You're in a club," Dewey stammered, training his eyes on the young Scotsman standing in front of him. "Your _Prez _gives you an order, you follow it. End of the story. Shit with the Nords and the Brotherhood….it's the same way. I did what I was _told."_

_"_What in the Hell are you babbling about, Dewey?" Darby grumbled.

"I swear to _God," _Dewey urged, shaking his head. "I never touched her. Not _once. _They asked if—but I said _No, _man. I'm not into that. I didn't sign up for that shit!"

Timothy drew his hand back, slamming the pistol still in his hand over the top of Dewey's head. "_FUCKIN RAT!"_

"You racists' pricks are really starting to piss me off," Piney growled. "The Hell is—"

Chibs used his gun-free hand to pull out the phone vibrating against his chest, flipping it open. "_Yeah….._what? _You gotta be shittin me! _Mother of—_'Kay. _We're on our way. I _SAID _we're on our way!" Chibs tapped his nephew on the back, nodding up at Piney before rushing past them. "We gotta go, brutha."

"We'll be in touch," Piney declared, making sure his indigo glare landed on every man in the room before he walked out. Padraic lingered only a little longer, giving up on putting whatever pieces he'd been given together for the moment but silently vowing to himself that he'd be back here to sort through it later.

"Kozik finally called?" Piney surmised, strapping his helmet on.

Chibs nodded, twisting his key into the Harleys ignition. "_Tig got shot." _

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"So how are we going to settle this shit?" Clay asked, taking a long pull of the cigar in between his fingers.

Marcus Alvarez' dark brown eyes touched on the faces of every member of his crew present before turning his attention back to the man sitting alone on the other end of the table in the basement of his clubhouse.

Clay Morrow was a real cocky son of a bitch. He had to be to walk into a room full of Mayans all alone without even a prospect to back him up. Sure, their mutual business relationships with Romeo Parada and the Cartel had led to them waving the white flag but peace between the two MC's was something that was often very short-lived. All it took was a double-cross or anything that resembled one to hit the Play button on their war. Something like John Teller's son storming into Mayan territory, beating the shit out of one Marcus Alvarez' associates.

"Take a good look at the guys sitting with me right now, _Ese_." Marcus spread his arms out gesturing towards the six of his men, two sitting on either side of him while two others stood behind the chair at the head of the table where he sat. "These are my Lieutenants, my crew, mi _familia. _Patching the _Calaverez _crew over was a business decision. Those _cholos _don't deserve to share my patch but they serve a purpose."

"That's a lot of words you're talking at me," Clay replied, slouching down in his chair as he puffed away. "But none of them answer my question. The situation was simple. My crew mules, your crew cuts and distributes. We need to figure out how we're going to continue to make this work because we both know fuckin shit up with Galindo isn't an option."

Marcus leaned over towards the man sitting beside him, whispering something in his ear as Clay's eyes drifted towards the Vice President's patch on his chest.

"Alright," Marcus said after they'd finished their private exchanged. "This is is how it works. There's no blowback for your club or JT's kid. But it's like I said, Ese. Salazaar and his crew serve a purpose. The shit that happened to his cousin Manny….that debt's gonna have to be settled."

"Courtney Case," Marcus' VP chimed in. "_Blanca _still owes us ten thousands dollars, Mano."

Marcus shook his head. "She owes _them," _he corrected. "I already got my Vig. Hector's crew still needs to collect but they'll be handling that shit on their own. I need to know right now if that's going to be a problem."

Clay shrugged, cocking an eyebrow. "Why would it be?"

"JT's son," Marcus mused. "It's _Jackson _right?"

Clay nodded. "His friends call him Prince Charming."

Marcus smirked. "From what I hear this shit started because Manny knocked the _Prince's _girlfriend around. One of the easiest way to ruin a friendship among men is to throw a bitch into the mix. I'm giving Hector the okay to handle his business, do whatever needs to be done with Courtney Case _and _her daughter. Is _that _going to be a problem? Don't bullshit me. This is ain't a _fool me once _situation, Clay. And me being Latino doesn't mean I'm into baseball. You don't get three strikes either, Cabron."

"If any threat you ever made to me or my club _ever _phased me," Clay commented. "I wouldn't be sitting her alone with no backup. Save your metaphors, _compadre. _I don't need warning. That junkie bitch is just what I called her. _Some junkie bitch. _Whatever way your _business associate _wants to handle her is his choice. But a little advice? Jax is a lot like his Old Man. He tends to get attached to his side-pussy so for the sake of this continued _friendship _between our MC's I'd think twice about involving the Wendy girl."

"You and your club can't keep your children in line?"

"I'm more focused on what's going to happen with _us_ if Jax crosses it…._again._" Clay warned him. "Right or wrong….anything happens to him, it's going to hurt more than both our pockets and you know it."

Marcus nodded in agreement, a wry smile spreading across his face. "Jackson is a little young for an Old Lady isn't he?"

Clay rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he pulled the vibrating phone from his pocket. Blowing smoke through his nose, he held the prepaid to his ear. "_Yeah_."

_"Clay," _Happy growled through the phone. _"When we see Unser that motherfucker's _dead!"

"What?" Clay scrunched his eyebrows together.

_"It was a FUCKIN set up!" Happy told him. "Lowell—"_

_"MOTHERFUCKER!" _Clay heard Tig yell in the background. "_WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST DO TO ME!"_

_"Quit whining like a little BITCH!" _Kozik snapped. "_Keep still…._Hap—_HAPPY! Can you hold this—"_

_"AH, SHIIIITTT!" _Tig half-groaned. "SON OF A _BITCH!_"

Clay slid his chair back, standing up. "_Hap! _What the fuck is going on!"

There was shuffling of the phone. Clay nearly flinched as Kozik screamed in his ear, "NICE PLAN, ASSHOLE! YOU GOT TIG _SHOT!"_

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Kozik snapped the phone shut, tossing it on the counter where it slid off, shattering into multiple pieces as it crashed to the floor behind the bar.

"Clay's on his way back," Kozik announced.

"Good," Piney barked. "I can't wait to hear how he explains _this _shit. JT is out of his fuckin mind. We're—"

Chibs shoved Piney, shaking his head once theirs eyes locked. "Not the time, Brutha," he reminded him, his brown eyes trailing towards the moaning man lying across the Reaper table in the middle of the clubhouse Chapel. Tig was probably too drugged up to notice anything but they shouldn't be risking it.

Tig Trager was a pitbull, and his owner Clay Morrow was the only one who ever held onto his leash.

"_How long do I have to stay like this?"_

Every SAMCRO patch in the room turned towards the mousy-haired young man standing over a half-conscious Tig.

"I can't do shit else for him," Chibs said, shrugging. "The ambulance'll be here soon. Then Unser'll take you wherever you need to be. Don't worry, he's not going to question you."

"Wouldn't matter if he did," Happy threatened. "It's not like you'd have anything to say…_right?"_

"I got some shit to say right now," the young guy challenged, squaring his shoulders—assuming the most confident stance he could manage given the awkward position a certain part of his body was in at the moment.

"Oh yeah?" Piney walked towards him, his club brothers stopping mere inches behind him.

Jutting his chin up, the boy made sure his eyes touched on every single one of them before he told them, "I've been a hang around for the last year. Clay was supposed to sponsor me but he switched up on me….chose that douche bag Kyle. I don't have to be a patch to see how that worked out for ya. _I wanna Prospect for the club."_

"You think you've got what it takes?" Kozik smirked.

"I have my finger in this creepy bastards _ass," _young guy said.

"No worries, Lad," Padraic told him, snickering with his Uncle. "Tiggy likes that sort of thing."

"Seriously, Dude," He urged. "This won't be the first time I came through for the club either. You _know_ that…..So I'd say I earned the right to _prove_ I've got it."

The five men exchanged meaningful glances, taking just long enough to chip away at the guys confidence before Piney finally put him out of his misery by nodding at him.

"I _might _be willing to give you a shot," Piney told him, smiling.

"Just to be clear," the guy said. "You don't mean a shot like the one I'm plugging in with my finger, right?"

Happy shook his head. "Ratboy's gonna be the next one getting his ass kicked by a fifteen year old."

"_Ratboy?" _The young guy repeated, eyes widening with disbelief. "Aw, shit…._please _tell me the grumpiest dude to ever be called _Happy _doesn't get to pick my nickname!"

Padraic, Happy and Kozik advanced on him together.

"Who says you'll even make it that far?" Kozik sneered.

Piney chuckled. "I love voting in new grunts."

"Yeah," Chibs commented, smirking. "Unless that grunt is your _son."_

Piney's smile vanished, a deadly scowl taking its place. "I said _no _and I meant it!"

Chibs nodded towards the other end of the room where Piney reluctantly followed him.

"That shit that happened with the Mayans?" Chibs whispered. "Your kid handled that shit with Jackie boy just like a _patch _would. None of us missed that, Brutha. He was raised in the life. You and JT raised your boys to sit at the head of that table when you can't grip the clutch anymore. Clay's a rat bastard, and this shit with the Cartel….I don't blame you not wanting the kid mixed up in it. But you should really think twice about sitting in a room full of your brothers—what kind of message that's sending to us if you don't want your son to be a part our _family._"

"EMT's are here!" Eric Miles, another Clubhouse hang around announced, running into the room suddenly. "So is the Sheriff."

Piney was spared the need to respond to his brother Chibs' indirect question as everyone in the room headed towards their bikes so they could follow the ambulance to St. Thomas.

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Eighteen minutes exactly.

Diane was able to count her _meet my husband _dinner a success for the first eighteen minutes. The first one-thousand, eighty seconds went off without a hitch. Sure, Tara and Duncan were applying that age old _the enemy of my enemy is my friend _bit to the fullest. They barely spoke to the man between the two of them at the head of the Knowles dining room table. They teased each other—Tara about Duncan's billions of dollars and how he was probably just a trust fund brat, and Duncan about how Tara would probably be the female Doogie Howser if she didn't drop out to ride off into the sunset with her biker boyfriend on the "scooter" he'd spied him sitting on when he'd come by to see her (just before Diane shooed him off so they could have their "family time".)

Arthur was scarcely included in any of the conversation but Tara—and _Duncan _for that matter weren't snapping at him. There were no threats of violence, no looks that could kill, no bickering or complaining about the choice _she'd _made for herself that her and her brother had yet to tell her niece about.

Her attempt at breaking the ice was in its first stage and at the very least she'd thought the night would end with a step in the right direction.

But then….

"_Who made the lasagna?"_ Arthur Knowles asked, jabbing his fork into the next dollop he'd bring to his mouth.

Tara rolled her eyes, as she shuffled the food on her plate.

"It's _delicious," _Duncan said, returning the measured smile the brunette sitting across from him offered in response.

"Gracie did it," Diane volunteered, winking at her niece. "With a little help from her assistant."

"You grated the cheese," Duncan commented, smirking when Diane kicked him underneath the table.

"I did say _a little."_

"Lasagna tastes great," Arthur said, looking over at his daughter. "Just like uh…..just like your mom used to make it."

Tara's smile looked strained, painful even as her eyes fell from her father's hopeful expression to the deep, Texas-shaped chip at the corner of the ceramic plate in front of her. "The last time I made lasagna I served it to you on _this_ plate I'm eating off of right now," she muttered. "_You threw it at me…._said it was the _one _thing that biker whore knew how to cook and the least she could have done was show me how to make it the _right _way…..before she _dropped dead."_

Duncan Kane was quite the multi-tasker.

He'd somehow managed to clap a comforting hand on his wife's shoulder as her eyes misted over, cast a look that was more empathy than pity at her niece Tara, _and _shoot his brother-in-law a glare that would make _Arthur _drop dead if a simple look could do such a thing.

"This is the _loving brother _you're supposed to be—"

Diane shook her head, her frown deepening. "Duncan, don't—"

"I thought this was a _get to know him_ dinner," Duncan taunted. "He hasn't said a word to—"

"A conversation works _both _ways, Duncan," Diane snapped. "You expect him to open up when you scowl at him every time he speaks to you?"

"I wanted to meet the man my _wife _is risking—"

"_It's _not _a life threatening proced—"_

"….and so far I am _not _impressed at all!" Duncan said. "He throws plates at his daughter?!"

"Plates," Tara echoed, her voice monotone. "Beer cans, bourbon bottles, shot glasses—_oh _and there was that one time he launched the toaster at me because—"

"Please tell me this is _helping," _Diane half-screeched. "This _has got_ to be helping you, Tara because if it's not I don't see why you're doing this. What was the point of our talk?"

"Our talk?" Tara pointed at her. "Our talk was me fixing things between _us. _You and me, not _him! _I already told you how I felt about him and you still insist on some _lickety-split _big happy family! I don't give a shit how many _chips _he gets. _Take-your-daughter-to-work _day is a long ways off and it's going to take even longer if you keep shoving him down my throat!"

"You're mad at _me, _Tara," Arthur cut in, coughing lightly into his hand. "Please don't take it out on, Dee-Dee. She's just trying to help me."

"I'm trying to help _both _of you," Diane stressed, light eyes darting between the other two Knowles sitting around the table—the bitter daughter and her wayward father.

"As far as I can tell, there's only _one _of them you should be helping," Duncan commented.

Diane slammed her palm hard against the table, the chair underneath her scuffing against the floor as she jerked her body towards him.

_"Enough with this shit!" _Diane growled. "It's _my _body. You don't get a say! _God, _I don't know why I even told you."

"How about telling _me?" _Tara interrupted. "What the Hell aren't you telling me?"

Tara wrinkled her nose in disgust at her father as he hacked into his hand, tossing him a handful of napkins without the slightest concern if it landed in his plate or on the table.

"Thank you," Arthur said, in-between coughs.

"How long do you think he'll even last?" Duncan started in again, refusing to back down as he matched his wife's glare with an equally fierce one of his own. "What if this shit is just a waste of time?"

"my GOD!" Tara shrieked, knocking her cup over when she banged her fist against the table. "Stop talking in code. What the fuck is….."

Tara's head tilted slowly, her green eyes squinting at it.

Diane and Duncan hit pause on their glare-off, turning to face her—turning to see what had caught her attention so suddenly.

It wasn't the coughing.

Arthur Knowles had been doing that since the beginnings of their argument broke out. Diane's breath hitched, her eyes widening as Tara's narrowed to slits.

As Tara slowly rose up from her chair, backing away from the table and the coughing man she'd been sitting next to as if he was radioactive.

Tara's head jerked towards her aunt, the accusation clear in her emerald eyes as she pointed a finger towards her father's hand, at the crumpled tissue he held between his fingers, the white napkin peppered with blood—blood from his mouth.

"Is that why you came back?" Tara hissed. Her voice grew shrill, tears welling in her eyes as she turned towards her father. "Torturing me over what my _mother_ did to you wasn't enough. _You're dying on me now, too? _Is that how Diane convinced you to leave the Bourbon alone? I bet she gave _you _a speech about regrets too, huh?_"_

Arthur shook his head, hazel eyes misting over. "Gracie, I—"

"I SAID DON'T CALL ME _THAT!" _Tears streamed down her face as Tara squeezed her eyes shut against the shrillness of her own voice.

Diane stood up, rushing around to her side of the table. "Tara—"

Tara shrugged her aunt's hand off her shoulder, jerking away from her as if her touch burned. "That's the real reason you came back isn't it?" she sneered. "To help me bury my deadbeat daddy? If that's all you came for you can go. I'll handle that like I did everything else these past seven years. I don't need you dredging up memories of when he _used _to be a father instead of _dead weight _to help me pick out a nice casket for him."

"Gracie—"

"I _hate _him," Tara cried. Blurry-eyed, she turned her glare on her father. "I HATE YOU!"

Diane shook her head. "Tara, he's going to be—"

"Why couldn't you just be a man?" Tara asked him. Stepping closer to him, she knocked the plate of food in front of him into his chest, ignoring it when it crashed to her feet, soiling her shoes with spinach and pasta sauce. "Maybe that's _why_ she did it," the angry brunette taunted. "You're a _coward_…only a spineless _pussy_ would treat his daughter like shit for—"

"HOLY SHIT!" Duncan hissed, his chair flipping over behind him as he stood up fast.

Tara gasped, her stomach lurching as she jumped back, slapping a hand over her mouth. Diane fell backwards as her niece barreled into her, quickly flipping over—charging towards her brother just as he began vomiting the second round of blood all over the dining room table.

* * *

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Barbara Harland charged into the office, successfully putting an end to their conversation as she kicked her foot out at the desk, swiping her hand across the surface—denting the bottom drawer, sending papers, a computer mouse, keyboard and monitor crashing to the floor in her fit of anger.

"YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT HIM!"

"It's _your _brother and this ATF _bitch _that's on your case," Unser griped. "Why are you storming in here breaking up _my _shit!"

"She shouldn't be storming in here at all," Agent June Stahl taunted. "We kept our end of the bargain. She's the one that's refusing to cooperate."

"WHAT PART OF GETTING MY HUSBAND KILLED IS KEEPING UP YOUR END?" Barbara screeched. Her brother, Robert Kohn quickly slid in between them as his sister charged towards the sneering redhead behind him. His chest suffered every blow meant for Stahl as Barbara beat her fists against his chest.

"GO!" Unser yelled, shooing his deputy Quintin towards the door. "_Get him _before she does any _more _damage to my office!"

"Calm down, Barb," Robert said, gripping her shoulders. He guided her towards the nearest chair, pushing against her back until she finally dropped down, tears staining her face as she sobbed.

"_I shouldn't have listened to him," _Barbara croaked. "I told him it was t-t-ttoo risky. We needed to—"

"_Everything's gonna be okay, Barb."_

Barbara's head snapped up, eyes ballooning. Her brother had mere seconds to dash out of the way before she knocked him down in her haste to run towards the man standing in the doorway, smiling weakly at her. Lowell Harland Sr. grunted as she slammed into his chest, nearly strangling him with vice-grip she had on his neck as she hugged him.

"I thought you were dead," She cried. "Clay said he…he said he found you and—"

"He _did _find him," Stahl interrupted, stepping on the scattered papers littering the floor as she walked towards them. "And if it wasn't for _my _team you and Mr. _Break-cutter _wouldn't be having this little Kodak moment. I suggest you start talking, _Barbie. _Because if you don't—"

"Present day crime is a cakewalk," Robert John interrupted, his voice a tad gentler as he brushed past the impatient ATF agent. "Charges are already in the works with the DA."

"But if we're going to use _RICO," _Stahl interjected. "We're going to need our _past _crime to seal the deal. And that _deal?_ That includes you and your husband riding off into the sunset with your son. No jail time, no retaliation from—"

Lowell shook his head. "You can't guarantee that."

Stahl smirked. "You wanna know what I _can _guarantee? I can guarantee that you, your _wife _and maybe even your _son _with be dead within the hour if we pull our security detail off you. And you want to know something else? Those MC thugs? Their guns have bullets in them the same as ours so the agents we put on your are only a temporary fix. You want a new identity? A new life? A chance to get off scott-free for trying to kill a man?" She turned pale, taunting eyes on Barbara. "A chance to get away with trying to turn a SAMCRO Matriarch into a _junkie_ like your precious _cocaine-lovin hubby?"_

"Fuck you, you—"

"_That's right," _Stahl snapped. "The only one getting _fucked _here is me. Every agent on this case is being _fucked in the ass _by you because you're dancing on the fence instead of coming over to the side that's going to keep you _alive. _Big brother can't call in special favors for you anymore. You're good faith has officially run out. You either start talking or we _walk…._and we'll be taking whatever chance you've got at cutting a deal that saves your life with us."

Barbara sighed, nodding stiffly as she pulled out of her husband's embrace to head back towards the chair she'd been sitting in. "A couple years back—"

"I didn't ask for a bedtime story," Stahl scolded. "Skip the once upon a time bullshit. This is a criminal investigation. We need _dates!"_

"Let her talk," Robert barked, scowling at her. When Stahl raised her hands in surrender, cocking her head, he nodded encouragingly at his sister.

"Those Klu Klux Klan assholes—"

"_The Nords?" _Stahl interrupted again.

Barbara nodded. "Yeah….Darby was their….he was like their mascot. People in Charming thought he was the boss….the one in charge but—"

"_He was a _lieutenant," Stahl amended, all but yawning in response to the information. "_Number two at best. The real puppet master was _Ethan Zobelle _and his trigger-man _AJ Weston. _They called the shots."_

Barbara nodded again. "They didn't like the fact that John Teller and his club—"

"_The SONS were selling guns to the Niners, an African-American street gang with a deep affection for the color purple," _Stahl droned on, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling.

"Sounds like you know enough already," Lowell cut in, moving to stand next to his flustered wife, glaring at the woman who didn't seem the least bit interested in the words she forced from her mouth.

"This umm….this _Weston _guy…" Barbara looked down at her hands as Lowell reached for one of them, lacing it with his own. "Do you have a picture of him?"

Robert leaned towards the floor, scrambling the fallen pages until he found what he was looking for. "_That's _Weston," he said, pointing at the shirtless man with the words _I kill Niggers _tattooed across his torso.

Barbara nodded fast. "That's the one who was….he was—but they were all involved. She..she…It's all five of them," Barbara urged, her fingernail denting the photograph as she pressed against the four familiar faces surrounding AJ Weston.

Stahl snatched the picture off the desk, scanning it—eyes pausing each of the five people Barbara fingered. "Let's see…..we have AJ Weston and his crew…..Doug Randolph….Arnold Whelan…Johnny Yates, and…..Oh, well how's that for a surprise? This must have been during his _Prospect year." _Stahl looked up at her colleagues, a sardonic smile twisted her face. "Is that the proper terminology? Or does that only apply to MC pledges? _Ah well." _June Stahl tossed the photo aside. "Weston, Randolph, Whelan, Yates and _baby-psycho _Dewey Crowe_. _What is it they were involved in…._that we don't already know?_"

"John Teller was still in prison at the time," Barbara told them.

Robert nodded, picking a manila folder off the floor, flipping through the pages.

"You said a couple years ago," Her brother echoed. "The last bid Johnathan Thomas Teller served was about seven years ago…."

"_Exactly _six," Stahl boasted, crossing her arms. "That was his last parole. He was serving short time…._fourteen months. _Mayans and SAMCRO played right into the hands of Zobelle. _Esai Alvarez was suspected of breaking into John Teller's home. _He attacked his wife _Gemma Teller. _As you'd expect we couldn't get a straight story out of any of them. But their youngest son Thomas went into cardiac arrest and his big brother _Jackson_ was treated at St. Thomas for a mild concussion, six stitches from a gash at the top of his head and a fractured cheek bone that same day. And this all happened the day before our undercover Benzino reported back to us that the Mayan President's son was found dead with a 'S' carved into his chest in some shithole bar they used as a front for their drug business."

Robert nodded as he read the file in his hand, confirming the facts she'd spewed from the top of her head. "Says here they charged Teller for the murder but they couldn't make it stick. Ended up nailing him, Bobby Munson and his sons' godfather Piermont Winston on an illegal weapons charge….._fourteen months like you said."_

"_When the cats away, the mice will play," _Stahl chanted, grinning at Barbara. "What was Clay Morrow up to while his President, Vice President and the Jiminy Cricket of SAMCRO _Mr. Munson _were locked away?"

"He declared war on Zobelle," Barbara said, her voice lowering to a near whisper as she added, "_and people got hurt…..people were threatened to silence….Clay—"_

"You gotta do better than this, Barbie," Robert said, his voice soft as the other Agents in the room sighed and rolled their eyes in impatience.

"I gave you my testimony," Lowell argued, sniffing. "You want me to testify about what Clay made me—"

"_Present day," _Stahl growled. "We've already got that. What we need is—"

_"Diane Knowles."_

Everyone's eyes darted back towards the woman who had spoken so quietly, in such a near-whisper that most weren't sure they'd heard her right.

"Who?"

"Diane Knowles," Barbara repeated, lifting her head to meet Stahl's eager expression. "Sister of Arthur Knowles, the town's most infamous drunk. She used to date one of the club guys back when he was a Prospect. I think he was Irish or—"

"Scottish," Stahl corrected. "Padraic Telford, nephew of Filip 'Chibs' Telford...what's an Old Lady got to do with anything?"

Barbara nodded once. "After everything went down she left Charming. But she's _back…_working as an NP at St. Thomas. You want your past crime? Need another _victim _you can squeeze for information? Go talk to her. Lord knows she's seen enough to give you a textbook's worth of crimes. She was Gemma Teller's girl Friday, her _protégée _before shit went south. She's got the Intel _and _the incentive to stick it to each every one of those assholes she ever called her family. _Especially _Clay Morrow. Talk to her. _Diane Knowles_ is your past crime….now _get me and my family the FUCK out of this poisonous town."_

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Jax tossed his keys in the ceramic bowl by his front door. Looking down at it, he smiled to himself as he recalled knocking it down the night he'd sat Tara up on the end table, unbuttoning his shirt that she wore two buttons at a time as he kissed her. It was amazing how lately, everything led back to her.

The smell hit his nose before the door clicked shut, and against his better judgment he found himself changing directions from the stairs to head into the kitchen where the irresistible food his mother was cooking was.

Time was on his side this evening.

He could sneak a sample of whatever was cooking without dealing with Gemma because she was nowhere in sight. And now that he'd thought of it, her car hadn't been in the driveway either. Tip-toeing towards the pot as if his mother would suddenly appear over her shoulder, Jax lifted the lid—all but drooling as he dipped the ladle into the pot of Gumbo.

_"Put down the ladle and nobody gets hurt!"_

Smirking, Jax made sure to do as Wendy requested only _after _he'd poured the giant spoons contents into a bowl he'd swiped from the dishwasher. Turning around to face her, his eyes popped open slightly, amusement twinkling in the shades of blue as he appraised her new appearance. Slurping from the spoon in his hand, ignoring the burning of his tongue as he scarfed down the stolen food sampling he made note of her hair, the makeup on her face that was noticeable no matter how subtle she'd tried to be because Wendy Case never wore makeup in the first place.

Jax snickered. "You're gonna give Lowell a heart attack."

Wendy twirled around, giving him a dramatic hair flip before batting her eyelashes at him. "Well…Gentleman _do _prefer Blondes_," _she purred, winking at him.

_Not this gentleman, _Jax thought to himself. _They _are _fun though…_

"I ran into him earlier," Jax told her, scowling when she rushed over to slap his hand away when he reached for the lid to the pot of Gumbo again. "He's been walking around like a lost puppy. What's it been, like a _week? _When you gonna put him out of his misery? He fucked up _once_."

"He _almost _fucked up," Wendy corrected.

Jax nodded, grinning. "Exactly."

Wendy shook her head. "He'd _still _be fuckin up. No, he'd be _fucked _up if I hadn't walked in."

"Since when are you one of those chicks that do the whole _what if _thing?" Jax challenged. "Look, this is the way I see it. LJ is new to the _screwed up parents club. _Anddd... if he was this perfect, golden boy he wouldn't be into you in the first place."

Wendy shoved him. "Thanks_, Jerk_."

Jax shrugged. "I'm in the same boat as you, Darlin," he admitted. "If Tara was really the Know-it-all I tease her about being she wouldn't even blink twice at me. I lost count of how many times I've fucked up. With her _and _her bodyguard _Big brother Opie. _You really gonna freeze him out over one mistake?" The blue-eyed teenager shrugged again. "Do you, Blondie. All I'm saying is I ain't giving up _my _golden ticket. I lucked out and I'm cashing in. No pointing in gambling when I'm already a winner, ya know?"

Wendy giggled. "Pen and paper, Dude…._write it down first."_

"Shut the fuck up." Jax waved her off. "I'm _poetic…._I get it from my Old man the _fortune cookie._"

Both blondes laughed, Wendy still managing to slap his hand away from the pot as she giggled. "Your mom's gonna be pissed if she comes back and there's no food left because you ate up every damn thing!"

_It's for MY birthday, goddamn it._

Jax sobered up a bit, still grinning at her. "Where the Hell is she at, anyway?"

"One of the club guys called her," Wendy answered shrugging. "Somebody got shot."

Jax's face fell. "Aw, shit," he hissed, glaring at her. "You standing around here joking with me. You didn't think I would want to know—"

"It's nothing serious," Wendy quickly responded. "The guy with the crazy hair got shot in the ass. The Scotsman tried to patch him up but with his lack of an actual _medical degree _it didn't really work out so they took him to St. Thomas. It's not like your mom rushed out of here or anything. Seem more like she went just to show her face….as the _Queen _does when shit like this happens."

"Right." Jax smirked. "I guess she's"—Jax paused, pulling the cellphone from his pocket. Squinting his blue eyes at the number he didn't recognize, he pressed the SEND. "…._Hello?"_

_"Remember what I said about Gracie always putting people first?" _Diane Knowles voice was croaky, slightly garbled like she'd swallowed cotton. Jax wasn't given a second to respond before the distraught aunt quietly demanded_, "It's time for you to prove you can do the same for her..._Tara needs you here with her, Jackson._ No one _but _you is going to help right now_…..She….she won't talk to me…an..._anymore_._"_

"Where is she?" Jax asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"We're at St. Thomas."

_"I'm on my way."_

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Joshua Kohn pulled the car to a stop at the curb, clicking his seat belt off as he turned towards the passenger side, watching through the window.

"So this is where Joseph lives," Joshua said.

Lowell Junior sighed heavily. "Dude, I keep telling you, his name is _Jackson. _And yes, this is where he lives. What you take your seatbelt off for? You're trying to get your ass kicked _tonight?_"

Joshua chuckled. "Violence is never the answer, Lowell," he lectured. "I just…..man, I just can't wrap my head around _Tare _being into a guy like that."

"_Tare?"_

Lowell's cough sounded a lot like poorly-veiled laughter as they watched Jax climb onto a dirt bike he recognized as the scooter the Club used to haze Prospects, quickly riding off without even looking in the direction of the truck parked in front of his house once.

"It's my nickname for her," Joshua explained, smiling. "She _hated _Tare-tare so—"

"Oooo-kay, Dude." Lowell reached for the handle, pushing the front passenger door open. "I'm gonna go before I end up being an accessory to _beat-down. _Thanks for the lift."

"Good luck with your girlfriend!" Joshua called after him as he walked up the pathway leading to the house. "Tell Joseph's mother to save me a plate of that amazing food I smell!"

_I doubt I'll get any tomorrow. I would have to be _invited _to your birthday party, _Jackson Nathaniel Teller_…Just like my _Tar-Tare _probably is….._

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"Doctor says you're not dying," Tara said quietly, sitting down on the edge of his hospital bed.

Arthur shook his head. "_It was an Ulcer_," he told his daughter, frowning at the dried tears staining her cheeks—tears he knew he was the cause of. "One of the many consequences of being a raging alcoholic. I'm going to be fine."

"_Yeah." _Tara smiled, her laughter just as a bitter as the upturn at the corners of her mouth. "You're finally sober and I'm still the one that suffers. Of course _you're _fine."

"I'm _not _fine," Arthur told her. "Not in the way that counts, Tara. I know I can never take back all the—"

Tara shut her eyes to the passion, the contrition in her father's expression as she held her hand up. "Just tell me," she demanded. "What else wrong with you? Beside the _obvious."_

Arthur sighed. "Drowning myself in Bourbon finally caught up with me," he confessed. "I've got a bad liver, Tara. All these years of being an angry drunk….terrorizing my child…..this is the price I would have had to pay for being a shitty father."

Tara looked up at him. "You _would _have?"

"Your aunt takes after your mother," Arthur admitted. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised since she idolized her from the day I convinced Moira to pack everything and leave Chicago for some small town in California. We made a deal. _Six months_ sober, she'll let the Doc' slice into her liver and give me a piece. But I want this to be more than a transplant, Tara. I….I…I know I got no right asking…and I know I don't deserve—"

"_I don't deserve this!" _Tara blurted, shaking her head as her tears began their earlier flow. "You've been an awful…..an awful _person. _You don't even deserve to be called a_ father._ Since mom died all you've done is scream at me…..throw things at me….make me feel like I'm not worth shit…you made me feel like….like _dying_. I swear to God, when I was ten I used to….." Tara wiped at the stream clouding her vision, rimming her eyes red, making it hurt to speak, hard to understand her words. "I used to….._I used to pray God would give me Cancer,_ too...because maybe then you would _care _because I was sick...you'd take care of me when I got pneumonia and mom was out of town for her friends wedding...or maybe..._maybe if you still didn't care I would just die..._then it would be over..."

Arthur ignored his own tears, reaching for her—the mustache above his lip quivered when she jumped back from his touch, from his piss-poor attempt to console her, ease all the pain that he'd inflicted. "Gracie—"

"Then I _shut you out_," Tara growled, rage strengthening her voice. "The boy next door gave me his bed to sleep in….his shoulder to cry on….he kept his mouth shut when I did my own personal walk of shame the next morning. I closed you—_God, _I closed you off, but you're still _here," _Tara screeched, slapping a hand against her chest. "All of your venom….all the poison you rained down on me after every bottle you emptied…..I can't shake it. I thought I got rid of it all but you're _still_ there. And when I saw you…..when I thought you were…._I felt it….._I'm not supposed to feel _anything _for you. I don't want to give a shit about you. You don't _deserve _my concern…not even an _ounce _of worry and yet you get it all. _I love you anyway. _How FUCKED up is that? Cancer took away the only parent I know never stopped loving me and all I had left was you….it's _you. _You're exactly what I used to pray for when I was ten." Tara kicked his bed, knocking the table at his bedside into the wall. "YOU'RE MY CANCER, DADDY!" she screamed at him, crying. "And I can't beat you…..every_ time…_I think I'm in remission….I cut you out….and you…_you grow right back_."

"I'm so sorry, Tara," Arthur sobbed, shaking his head. "You don't owe me anything, I haven't _earned_ anything. Diane should just leave me for dead. I don't deserve a second chance. I _know _that….But, baby…_Tara, _she's…..she's giving me one anyway but it _won't_ matter. I-iii-ittt won't mean _shit _if you don't give me one, too. That's all I have to live for. And I know it's not fair. I shouldn't say that, you don't deserve this from me. I'm not trying to guilt you into anything. I just…..Tara, I….Gracie, I l—"

"_Don't say it_," Tara begged him, shaking her head, shutting her eyes. "Seven years without it. I don't want to hear it now. You got _no right_ to say that to me…_ever."_

"_I love you, Gracie Bear." _

Tara charged into him.

Motherfuck all the wires, the IV cords, the newly-stitched up scar along his abdomen from his surgery. Her fist moved of their own volition, Her knees pressing into his side as she blindly punched every inch of him—windmilling her arms, punching and slapping his face, his neck, his chest until he finally gripped her wrists tight enough to stop her.

That was when she finally collapsed against him, sobbing against his chest the same way she'd broken down at her mother's funeral.

"_I'm sorry, Gracie," _Arthur whispered, tears falling from the tip of his nose into her hair as he kissed the crown of her head over and over, rubbing her back and shoulders. "_I love you, Gracie. I am so sorry….I'm _SO _sorry, Baby…."_

* * *

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"SAMCRO!"

Jax jerked his head, smiling at the tall, handsome man he'd met in the St. Thomas gift shop several weeks ago. He nodded a head up at him. _"Mr. Suit and tie. _How's your umm….how's your family doing?"

"This is the part where I _don't _make things awkward by answering that honestly," Duncan replied, scratching his head.

Jax nodded grimly. "I'm sorry."

"My wife's niece," Duncan explained, frowning. "She's got the world's shittiest father."

Jax chuckled. "You tell anyone your business, huh?"

"Not usually," Duncan said, his expression neutral.

Shaking his head at him, he patted his shoulder as he walked past. "Hope everything works out for you and yours."

"Same to you, Man!"

* * *

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She was just stepping out into the hallway when he turned the corner. Dabbing at her eyes, Tara looked up at him—and the smile she forced on her face made chest hurt.

_"Aw, Babe." _Jax rushed towards her, wrapping her tightly in his arms, kissing her forehead before pressing his against hers. "What happened? _What can I do?_"

"Arthur needs a liver transplant," Tara told him. "That's the real reason my aunt came back. She didn't come here to save _me. _She came to save her brother. And I _hate _her for that! _I hate both of them!_ I hate him for making me love him and then throwing it in my face. And I hate her for lying. I hate that I _know _she was doing it to protect me….to keep me from having to make the hard choice….saving my father….giving him a piece of _me _when he's taken so many pieces already. Children are the first people they test for possible matches. He didn't even _ask _me to get tested because he knew I wouldn't do it for him except….I know I _would! _If he needed it, I'd _still _give him another piece. _What the fuck is wrong with me?"_

"Nothing is wrong with _you, _Tara," Jax assured her, pushing her hair back behind her ear as he cupped her face. "There's something wrong with _him…._there _was _something wrong with _me….._there's something wrong with my mother. Tara… ...Baby, _there's something wrong with _anyone_ that doesn't love you. _And if they do, but they don't show it…that means they're even more _fucked up _then all the other idiots."

Tara managed the addition of a few teeth to go along with the watery smile she cast him. "_Jackson_," Tara whispered, green eyes locked in with blue. "I _need _you to….._I need you to tell me you love me._ Please...I need to—"

Gripping both side of her face, Jax tilted his head—the tears staining her face bleeding onto his cheeks as he kissed her softly, as he _showed_ her first. Then, he pulled back slowly, still framing her face in his hands. "I _love_ you, Tara Grace Knowles," Jax promised her, swallowing against the lump forming in his throat. "_I love you so _fuckin_ much,_ Babe."

* * *

**_JAX &amp; TARA ISLAND _**UP NEXT. I'LL ASK IN ADVANCE THAT YOU BE KIND TO MY RE-WRITE WHEN I FINISH &amp; POST.

MEANWHILE...**_ [9,375 minus _**my fuckin area 503 code-STEALING words**]**

**|REVIEW| please.**


	69. Chapter 62

**A/N: **As promised...**Jax &amp; Tara Central **Commences. (Biting my nails over here.)

**P.S: **To everyone who feels like the "Guest" who wrote to me, "_DUDE! It's like you're trying to kill me! **61 **chapters with **no sex**...COME ON!" _(this made me literally laugh out LOUD, btw.) I just want to say I hope this was worth the wait.

**P.S: **This chapter is brought to you by my little monster being too sick to go out in this awful weather and me having to stay home with him. Pouring some _Children's Mucinex_ out for my fallen homie "the common cold" as I finish my edit of this.

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

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"I'll be right back, Babe," Jax told her, kissing her forehead. He'd meant it, too. It would only take a minute or two to check on Tig and make fun of him for getting shot in the ass. Wanting to be with Tara, he'd planned to stick to the _one _minute. Tara was always such a sweet, caring person that Jax knew she would have been happy to keep him company—to come with him even if it was to visit the hospital room of one of the 'biker thugs' she'd dissed back at the Charming fundraiser in a fit of anger.

But Gemma would probably be there.

It was nothing short of a miracle that the SAMCRO matriarch hadn't already sniffed out her son like the Hound she was, popping up in the hallway outside of Arthur Knowles room where Jax had spent the last fifteen minutes holding her, whispering how much he loved her, how amazing she was until she was all cried out. Jax thanked the Gods that his mother hadn't ended up being in one of the stalls in the Women's restroom where Tara had went to wash her face—get herself together before they went back downstairs in the lobby where Diane and her husband had been waiting, giving her a private moment with her father. Gemma was already on his shit list to begin with so he wasn't about to push his luck by bringing Tara anywhere his mother was likely to be. That was sure to end in him flipping the fuck out of her. So when Tara said, "_Just meet me down in the lobby," _he stole one last kiss, nodded his head in agreement as he smiled at her and walked off the elevator leaving her behind—silently hoping he'd imagined the way the smile on her face faltered as the metal doors slid shut.

Jax was happy when he'd arrived to discover that Tig was high as kite on pain medication, way too out of it to give a shit that he didn't do much more but check that he was alive and well before making a mad dash for the elevator before the doors closed, heading down to the lobby. The doors opened up on the fifth floor. It was then that Jax briefly considered stopping in to speak to his dad.

How much longer was JT going to stay in the hospital anyway? And why wasn't Gemma getting the house ready for his return? Did JT know his mom was cheating on him with the guy holding his gavel? If he did, did Gemma know that he knew? Shaking his head, Jax pushed the questions of his parents' relationship and the anger he harbored towards his mother to the back of his mind as he stepped out onto St. Thomas main floor, headed towards the lobby.

Turning the corner, the smile brightening his eyes couldn't be helped as he watched her. The ghost of a frown he'd glimpsed before the elevator doors shut was gone. So were her tears. Tara wasn't just beaming either—it wasn't just the sight of her gorgeous smile. Tara was laughing. She was giggling like a school girl and as he inched closer to where she stood, the sound rumbling from her throat would have been music to ears if not for one thing.

Tara wasn't smiling at him. She wasn't laughing at something he'd said. The green-eyed brunette's good mood was the result of another guy. A guy who was whispering something in Tara's ear as he stopped in front of them, making her laugh harder as they both stared at his scowling face with twin expressions of amusement.

"You said you'd only be a minute," Tara said, shaking her head at him. "I didn't think you meant that literally."

"Better get used to him finishing _everything _in a minute," Kozik teased, winking at Jax. Tara elbowed him in his side as she laughed.

"Oh _shut up," _Tara scolded.

"Relax, _Prince," _Kozik goaded. The blonde biker threw an arm over Tara's shoulder, snickering when she shoved it off, rolling her eyes. The look on Jax' face made it clear that he was the only who didn't realized that everything Kozik was saying and doing was purely to fuck with him and nothing more.

Or perhaps he did know, but simply didn't give a shit.

"What time are you and Diane leaving?" Jax asked.

Tara frowned. "She wants to stay a few more hours while they run more tests," she complained. "I wish she'd just take me home first but she's worried about her brother so I'd be a bitch if I asked her."

"Too bad there's no room for the both of you on that _scooter _Jax is riding around on," Kozik commented, smirking at the death glare the annoyed blue-eyed boy shot him. Completely unfazed, Kozik grinned at Jax as he added, "If you want I can give you a lift home. I think I remember the address. Dropped your aunt off a couple times whenever she'd get into with—"

"Thanks, Kozik," Tara interrupted, noticing the look on Jax's face. "I appreciate it but I'll be alright. I'm starting to think I should rent a room in this hospital as often as I sleep here."

"Alright, well I'm starving," Kozik announced. "I think I'll go check out what's in that Cafeteria before I head out. I hope everything gets better with your Old man, Tara." Kozik jabbed his thumb in Jax's direction. "And if this shithead gives you any trouble you just let me know and I'll take care of it alright, sweetheart."

Tara couldn't resist giving into a small smile. "Goodnight, Koze."

Kozik kissed the top of her head. "Goodnight, Darlin," he said, patting Jax on the shoulder as he walked past. "Feel better."

Jax cocked an eyebrow at Tara. "So it's okay if _he _calls you _Darlin?"_

Tara rolled her eyes. "Really, Jax?"

Jax spun around, yelling after him. "Yo, _Kozy!"_

"Oh my God," Tara gasped. "Quit being such a drama—"

Kozik swaggered back towards them, a playful gleam mixed in with the challenge in his eyes. "What's up?"

Neither Tara nor Kozik anticipated Jax's actions.

Instead of picking a fight or saying something rude, Jax stepped towards him with a heartfelt smile spreading across his face. "With all this shit going on I haven't had a chance to say it," Jax told him. "Thanks for looking out for JT. I know you….you were the one that found him and stayed with him and the truck driver when you were riding through and saw the accident. I know you're not a medic or anything so you couldn't do much but wait with him but….if you hadn't gotten there when you did….who knows, ya know? And besides it's not like that's the first time you've had my Old man's back…."

Kozik let out a low whistle. "Jesus Christ, Jax. _Baby_ Fidget is making you soft," he teased. But then the mocking in his eyes vanished as he gave the teenager a firm nod. "I'll always have your Old man's back, young blood. And when _you're _wearing one of these," Kozik told him, holding up the flaps of his leather SAMCRO Kutte, "I'll have _your_ back, too." Jax nodded, closing the gap between them as he pulled Kozik into a warm, brotherly hug. "You kids get home safe," He said finally. Then Jax and Tara watched as he walked off, disappearing inside the hospital gift shop. The second the door closed, Jax grabbed Tara's hand, dragging her along until she finally attempted to keep up with his pace as he began running towards the lobby exit.

"Jax!" Tara hissed, her eyes narrowing in confusion as he pulled her along. "Jackson, _what the Hell?!" _

Jax ignored her, continuing to run until they reached his destination.

"What the Hell was that about?" Tara demanded, clutching her chest as she tried to catch her breath. "You know I'm not _really _a track star right?" Jax chuckled. Grabbing her face, he kissed her—tangling his tongue with hers. And Tara was every bit as lost in the sensation until she felt something being placed on top of her head. Pulling back, her green eyes popped open, a single eyebrow lifting towards her scalp as Jax snapped the straps to the helmet underneath her chin. "Jax, what—"

Jax walked around her, sitting on the Harley that she hadn't even noticed was behind her. He patted his hand against the back of the seat. "Hop on, Babe."

"Whose bike are you stealing?" Tara asked him, her eyes widening.

Jax rolled his eyes. "I'm not stealing it," he corrected. "I'm _borrowing _it. You said you want to go home right?"

"Home, Jackson," Tara agreed. "Not _jail."_

"Hurry up," Jax stressed. "We gotta go before he—"

"JACKSON MOTHERFUCKIN TELLER!" Kozik yelled, making Tara jump as she turned to see him, Chibs, Happy and Padraic running through the lot towards them. Where the Hell had the rest of them even come from? "I'M GONNA KICK YOUR ASS YOU LITTLE SHITHEAD! YOU _NEVER_ SIT ON ANOTHER MAN'S BIKE!"

"You want me to live to see my birthday tomorrow?" Jax asked her, laughing. "_Get on."_

Tara giggled, adrenaline rushing through her system as she wrapped her arms around him—as he'd just began revving the engine when the angry SAMCRO mob was only a few feet away. "How the Hell did you even get his keys?"

"You're the only one that gets my hugs for _free," _Jax joked.

Chibs yanked Kozik out of the way just in time as Jax zipped past the four of them.

"WHO'S YOUR DARLIN NOW, ASSHOLE!" Jax yelled back at him as he cleared the St. Thomas parking lot, sliding into traffic. Never in his life had Jackson Teller felt so amazing. Tara Knowles had her arms wrapped around him, leaning into him, the wind wafting the vanilla-honey scent of her hair all around him. The giggle of excitement bubbling from her throat, the joyous sound rippling through him more than the vibrations of the bike between his legs ever could. Right here, out on the open road with the only girl he'd ever love holding onto him, never letting go.

This was home.

* * *

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"That was ah-_mazing," _Tara breathed, smiling at him as he unclasped the helmet on her head, tossing over the bike's handlebar.

_You're amazing. _

"I know," Jax agreed. He grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers with hers as he walked her towards her front steps. Brushing her hair back, he kissed her cheek, unable to resist curling his arm around her waist for the short period of a time it took her to find her keys, opening the door. He slipped inside behind her, stepping on the backs of her shoes when she stopped short as soon as she'd reached the center of the living room. Standing by the couch, they had a perfect view of the dining room. Dirty dishes, overturned glasses and scattered napkins littered the room. But it was the blood smeared across the table, on the chair at the head of it, on the floor surrounding it that stuck out under the brightness of the chandelier hanging at the center of the vacant room. Tara's sigh was deep, her shoulders hunching as her eyes seemed incapable of moving from the spot where she'd made yet another horrible memory in her house. She felt him pull her back against him, his fingers splaying against her stomach as his kissed her shoulder.

_"I love you," _Jax whispered in her ear, kissing the spot behind it. "Whatever happens, you can handle it, Tara. You can handle anything. You prove it over and over again. Everything is going to be okay, I promise."

The smile slowly spreading across her face crinkled her eyes a little at the corners causing a subtle shimmy of the lone teardrop that had managed to escape, falling from between her thick bottom lashes as she turned to face him.

"I know it is," Tara told him, reaching up to caress his face. "I've got _you."_

Jax nodded. "_Always," _He promised.

Rising to the tips of her toes, Tara's fingers pressed gently at the nape of his neck as she brushed her lips over his. Soft pecking kisses, one after another until she pulled away. Her emerald eyes sparkled, the apple-cheeked smile spreading across her face setting off a fluttering in his chest that Jax had never felt before as she reached for his hand, pulling him along gently, but with the same urgency he had when they'd made their getaway on Kozik's Harley.

They'd reached the foot of her bed when she turned back to face him again. Jax combed his fingers through her hair, basking in the dark velvet flowing between them. Tara nipped at his chin, the corners of his mouth, the tip of his nose, brushing her mouth across each cheek, his forehead—Tara kissed every inch of his face before her lips finally met his again. One hand left her hair to grip her waist, the other curving to frame her face softly as he deepened their kiss, gasping against her mouth when he felt Tara slid her hands underneath his shirt to lightly scale her nails up and down the tautness of his stomach. Pulling away from him was torture, but their separation didn't last long. Tugging Jax's T-shirt over his head, Tara dropped it at his feet, sitting at the edge of her bed—green eyes locked with his eyes as she slowly crawled backwards, stopping in the center of it. Jax swiped his thumb at the corners of his mouth, checking for drool he was almost sure would be there as he watched her slowly unbutton her jeans, pulling at the zipper, sliding the denim down past her thighs before kicking them off the bed.

The pretty, maroon eyelet blouse she wore was next. Tara only managed to reach button number two before the bed dipped beneath her. Jax stilled her hands, gently swatting them away as he took over the unbuttoning of her shirt while he kissed her, sucking on her tongue, on her bottom lip until he was finally able to slide the blouse off her shoulders. Pushing her on her back, he brushed her hair to one side, gently nudging her face in that same direction with his nose, flicking his tongue against the pulse at her throat, sucking softly then a little harder, groaning against the tender flesh of her neck as he felt Tara reach for him, rubbing him, stroking him through his jeans. Jax was close to begging her to relieve him of the confinement, the straining against the zipper of his jeans when Tara released the grip she had on his cock. His brief second of disappointment melted away as he felt her struggling underneath him, trying to slide her panties past her thighs without him moving off of her. Sitting up, Jax spared only the second he needed to snatch them down past her ankles, tossing them aside before assuming his favorite position, enfolded in the softness of her inner thighs. Sliding his hands behind her back, he lifted her up just enough to do away with the clasps holding her bra in place, snatching the black lace from her body. Tara's legs were tight around his waist, making it hard to sit up. Yet Jax managed to pull back just enough to appreciate the bounty in front of him, to cup her breasts in his hand, pushing them together, sucking one nipple then the other in a delicious back and forth that had her whispering his name through the heavy breaths pushing in and out of her rapidly expanding lungs. Replacing his mouth with his hands, Jax massaged her breast, lightly pinching her nipples as his lips kissed a trail down her body. His eager tongue circled her navel before his mouth finally reached _his _sweet spot—the V between her thighs.

He didn't need to check this time.

Jax knew he had to really be drooling as he took in the sight of her, the smell of her, as he anticipated the sweetness that was the way she tasted while he forced himself to work his way back up slowly. Peppering kiss after kiss up her legs, sucking and nibbling the insides of her thighs. Moisture glistened in the softness of her curls. Spreading her thighs wide, Jax swiped his nose up her slit, parting her lips, lapping his tongue against her, slurping at the nectar pooling in her center as he teased her clit, nipping it softly, barely, merely laving around it until Tara whimpered, _"Jackson, _please," her fingers tugging tightly on his hair as she begged him. Clamping his lips around the throbbing bud, Jax sucked hard on her clit, his hand leaving her breast to dip his fingers insider her, one and then two. He pumped in and out her, picking up speed the more she thrashed and cried out, the overflow of her juices drenching his face as he kissed her clit softly, then licked it fast and hard until she came.

Grazing her skin with his teeth, Jax slowly climbed his way up her body, sucking a kiss over every inch of her in between the sweetness of her center and the pure, breathtaking beauty that was the afterglow radiating from every pore of her of gorgeous face, making his heart beat a bruise against his ribcage, his tongue feel swollen, sticking to the roof of his mouth—his breath hitching slightly as he basked in the every lumen of sparkle twinkling in the emerald jewels that were Tara's eyes.

Smiling at him, the blush tinting her cheeks zoomed out of focus as Tara grabbed his face, crushing her lips against his. Jax slowly rolled off her, never breaking their bond as she'd refused to let go, her tongue thrashing against his as she kissed him harder. Her fingers danced all over his naked chest, scaling up and down as he rubbed his thumb against her nipples.

Jax was sucking on her neck again.

He was moments away from traveling further south just as he'd done before when she pushed against his chest, forcing him to sit up. Tara answered the question in his eyes with one of her own.

"Do you have one?" Tara asked him. The desperation in her expression floored him completely as her green eyes scanned the pockets of his jeans before she reached out to pat against them, determined to find her answer when Jax didn't respond fast enough.

"_Tara_," Jax urged. "Wait a min—"Tara forced her hand underneath his ass, smiling as she pulled exactly what she'd been looking for from his back pocket. It was the hardest thing he ever had to do. "_Babe," _Jax crooned framing her face in his hand. He gently pulled the string of condom packets from her hand, setting them down on the bed behind his back. He brushed his thumb across her cheek as she frowned at him in confusion. "Tara, I want to. You _know _how badly I want you but we can't do that right now, Babe."

Tara shook her head, frown deepening. "Why not?"

Jax sighed, his hand falling from her cheek. Scrubbing it slowly across his face he's wracked his brain desperately for words that would override everything his other head was thinking—trying to recall what she'd said to him when she'd stayed with him at the hospital the night of his father's accident. _"I'm right here, Tara," _Jax told her. "I will _always _be here whenever you need me. I know what you want, Baby and I want the same thing but right now that's not what you need. _I know you think it'll—"_

Tara giggled.

Her smile returned full blast.

So did the shaking of her head as she cocked an eyebrow at him. "You really love to use my words against me don't you, Jackson?" She teased. Tara slid over closer to him, eliminating any space they had between them as she brushed her thumb across his cheek. "It's not going to work this time, Jax. This isn't a reaction to grief, Baby. I'm not upset, I'm not scared, I don't have _any _doubts and you're not a distraction."

_This is why men are jerks. _

_Girls like you make it so _fuckin _hard to be the good guy. _

Throwing her leg over him, Tara straddled his lap, raking her hands through the blonde locks of his hair, kissing his chin. "You _are_ my fix, Jackson but you could never be temporary. I know you're worried I'll regret it but I won't. Every time we're together it's always all about me. You're always making _me _feel good. Jackson….I love you so much. I love you and I _trust _you. And…._and you deserve to feel good. _I want to make you feel good," Tara whispered, blushing. Her hand closed around his belt buckle, managing to swiftly pull it apart before he stilled her hands again. "_Jax," _Tara urged. "It's time for it be all about you."

_I want it to be about us._

"Tara…."

Her name was a caress against his tongue every time he said it. Her name was the stutter in his heartbeat every time he heard it, the slight blur in his vision as his head swerved left to right, blue eyes scanning the room to find her beautiful face every time he heard someone say it. "Tara," Jax repeated, unable to help himself. "I bought those because we're going to use them. I wanted it to be today but now….Tara, I didn't come here because I wanted sex. Tonight's not about that. I didn't rush over to St. Thomas to comfort you because I wanted to score points," he told her. "I did it because you're always there for me when I need you and I _need _you to know that goes both ways." Jax traced his finger across her kiss-swollen mouth. "I didn't steal Kozik's bike so I could sneak you off and get laid," he said, grinning. "I did it because I _fuckin hate _seeing you cry," he admitted. "I _needed _to make you smile….I _wanted_ to hear you laugh…feel you pressed against me, your arms around me…I want…..I wanted a taste of what it's gonna be like when you're riding on the back of _my_ Harley." Jax pressed his lips to hers, grazing her tongue with his teeth like she always did to him before pulling back to lose himself in the depth of her emerald eyes the way he always did when he viewed them up close. "It's your _eyes, _Tara….every time you look at me, you have no idea how it makes me feel. You don't even have a clue because if you did…Jesus Christ, Tara…I _always_ feel good when I'm with you," Jax promised her. "And every _single _thing I do for you…everything I do _to _you is all about me. Trust me, Tara," Jax urged. He brushed her hair back as he leaned into her, lips brushing against her ear, breath tickling the shell of it as he whispered the truth. "Honestly, Babe I can't stop. I can't stop making it about me…and I..._I _love_ eating your pussy."_

Tara gasped, shivering against him. Pulling his head back, she kissed him hard, his bottom lip catching between her teeth as she pulled back to pin him with her heated gaze. She quickly popped the buttons of his jeans open, yanking his zipper down. Rising off his lap, she pulled his pants down as far as she could get them. Jax reached to grip her wrists again, but he was too late. She'd already slipped her hand inside his boxers. Tara tightened her fist around the stiff, wet heat of his throbbing cock. Jax groaned against her mouth as Tara stroked him slow and hard, her other hand cupping his balls, rolling them around between her fingers as she pulled her lips away from his to press a kiss to the tiny nub at the center of his earlobe. _"Stop fighting me," _Tara purred against his ear. "The only _pain _I'm suffering right now is you not giving me what I want. I want _you, _Jackson. I want you _so bad. _I want to be with you." Tara pulled back, searing another sweltering, wet kiss to his lips. Jax groaned, the sound rumbling from deep within his chest was a strangled howl as she rubbed his cock against the slickness between her thighs. Tara moaned as his nails clawed into her ass. Palming her, he forced her forward, blue eyes snapping shut as Tara rubbed her clit against the underside of his shaft over and over. "_Please," _Tara breathed, throwing her head back as her nipple caught between his teeth. "I'm tired of waiting, Jackson. I want to be with you right now. _Baby, I want you _inside _me."_

_FUCK._

Tara was pleading with him. The beautiful brunette rocking against him was begging him for it, twisting the knot in his stomach more and more with every word she whimpered.

There was a loud _SNAP _in the center of Tara Knowles' bedroom.

It was the sound of Jackson Teller's resolve breaking, his restraint shriveling up. Being the good guy, saying no to her again wasn't an option. His will to refuse her died along with every word of protest that had been wiped clean from his mind. Every ounce of his control broke as he flipped onto her back. Jax slid down her body faster than a Freefall at an amusement park. The grip he had on her legs was sure to leave bruises as he pulled her down until she was close enough for him to throw her legs over his shoulders. He gave her throbbing clit one long hard _slurrrp_ before delving deep inside her. Tara cried out, scream his name as he fucked her with his tongue without any of the mercy he'd ever shown her in the past. Her thighs were already shaking under the iron grip of his hands with the waves of her orgasm when he pulled his tongue out, replacing it with two fingers, sucking her clit in and out of his mouth until she came again. And again. The same girl that pleaded with him not to stop her was begging _him _to stop.

But when he finally did as she asked, when he'd finally stopped the delicious assault of his mouth on her, Tara still had that same look in her eyes. The way she looked at him, the moistness pooling in her eyes as she smiled told him everything he needed to know—everything he'd ever _want _to know.

Standing up from the bed, he kicked his jeans off, picking up the condoms one or both of them had knocked off the bed at some point. Jax tore one off from the pack, his eyes a steadily darkening indigo as he watched Tara crawling backwards until she was at the top of the bed with her knees pulled up to her chin. A playful smile played at her lips even as a deep blush tinted her cheeks while he stood there, condom in hand, boxers still on. Tara was unaware of the battle raging in his head. A pure white Angel stood on his right shoulder whispering into his ear, "_Ask her…say the words," _while the devil on his left side egged him on, encouraging him, reminding him, "_You got her where you want her, Jackson….where you've always wanted her. She's _naked…._she's _wet _and she already told you she _wants _you. How many fuckin times do you need to hear her say it?" _

One more.

Jax nodded, agreeing with the right side—the side he always wanted to be on with Tara.

Just. One. More. Time.

_"Tara." _Jax advanced on her slowly, like a lion desperate not to spook his prey. He climbed back onto the bed with one knee folded underneath him as he wriggled his fingers against the top of her foot, smiling at the way she fidgeted, biting her lip to keep from giggling. He had to say it.

So he did.

"Tara, _are you sure?"_

He was praying to the Catholic God he'd long abandoned that she wouldn't say 'No'.

And she didn't.

Instead she rolled her eyes at him.

"Always a _Prince." _ Tara smiled at him. All she did was smile and just like that, he was trapped in her emerald gaze—transfixed by the way she sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth. Tara placed her hand on top of each knee, and with agonizing slowness she spread her legs wide so he could see just how sure she was. When she spoke, her voice was low and husky. "I want you," Tara told him yet again. "_Love me."_

Lunging for her, Jax curved his hand at the nape of her neck—crushing his mouth to hers as Tara pulled his boxers down. He pulled off her just long enough to kick them from around his legs before reaching for her waist. Her kiss felt like a brand. The slick rhythm of his tongue dancing with hers somehow managed to make his dick harder, painfully so as he eased her down onto her back, settling between her thighs—the throbbing between his legs resting against her stomach as he raised up just enough for his thumb to find her clit, circling the swollen nub as he eased two fingers in and out of her. Tara gasped against into his mouth as he pushed a third finger insider gently as he could, fingering her slowly, curling his fingers deep inside her until he found the spot he was looking for. Tara jack-knifed off the bed as he lightly pressed against it. "_Oh God, Jax." _Tara's nails dug into his skin as she curled her fingers around his wrist, stilling his hand. Forcing her eyes open, Tara shook her head at him. "That's not how I want it. I want it _with _you."

_Jesus, Tara._

He didn't want to hurt her. God, he didn't want to hurt her but he was going to. Only two letters, one syllable but he couldn't bare to say the word again. 'No' wasn't an option. His heart couldn't take it and neither could his dick. His hips were a perfect fit, nestled between the warmth of her thighs. Grabbing the condom, he tore the foil packet open with his teeth, smirking at the slight widening of her eyes in response to what he'd done. Jax braced his hand against her bed, supporting his own weight as he hovered over her—chest to chest, her center pressing against his. Leaning down, he kissed her softly as he placed the condom around the head of his cock, groaning into her mouth when Tara decided to help him roll it on the rest of the way. Spreading her legs wider, he rubbed his shaft against her once and then twice more before positioning himself at her entrance. Just barely, he pulled back—the tips of their noses still touching as one hand caressed her face. Jax whispered the words against her lips. "_I love you, Tara," _he told her. Then he entered her slowly, pushing against the barrier—easing his way into Heaven as gently as he could. _"Shit," _Jax hissed. He knew just how fuckin cliché it was to say it but he couldn't resist it any more than he could ever resist her. "_You're so tight, Baby." _ Tara nails dug into the skin of his back, reminding him not move yet. But he had to. He'd go as slowly as humanely possible, but Heaven forgive him, he couldn't _not _move. Tara gasped, the gush of air pouring from her lungs blowing against his neck, his shoulder as he pulled out slightly, slowly easing his way back in again. Tara bit down hard on her bottom lip, squeezing her eyes shut but it didn't help. The whimper still escaped her, betraying her struggle to be patient, to wait it out until it felt better. Cupping her face in his hand, stress creased his forehead, his eyebrows threading together as he forced another difficult question from his mouth. "_You want me to stop?"_

Tara shook her head, shaking the tears prickling the corners of her eyes free. "_Just make me feel good," _she asked him. Reaching up, Tara tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling his face towards her chest. Jax got the message immediately, determined to make her feel good in the ways he already knew exactly how. He kissed her neck, sucking the spot that always drove her crazy. His lips found their way to one breast, then the other, sucking each of her rosy peaks in and out of his mouth, flickering his tongue around them, pressing it against them until her moans were a mixture of pain and pleasure. Tara put all her focus on the delightful sensations of his tongue and lips on her nipples, against her neck, his teeth grazing her collarbone as Jax pumped into her with a slowness that wasn't quite agonizing enough to stop his eyes from rolling towards the back of his head.

Jax knew exactly when the moment had finally arrived.

Tara no longer struggled to ignore the stinging between her legs. The pain numbed, the burning sensation ebbed and it gave way to pure pleasure that had her hips rising off the bed to meet every stroke he gave her. "_Oh fuck, Tara." _His hips snapped into motion the second her actions gave him the greenlight. Jax thrust in and out of her faster, every stroke pushing deeper, harder. Tara wrapped her legs around him, folding them behind his back as she clasped her hands together at the nape of his neck.

_Jesus Christ, _Jax thought. _You're so fuckin tight…..so wet. God, you're so wet for me, Tara. You feel so good, Baby…..so FUCKIN good….I love you, Tara…I love you so fuckin much, Baby….._

"I love you too, Jackson," Tara breathed.

It was until she spoke out that he'd realized. They weren't just thoughts in his head. He was saying them out loud. He was whispering them to her, singing against her ear. Every stroke he pushed into her, Tara met him half-way with a fierceness, a demanding hunger that had somehow given his subconscious total control over his voice—forming everything he felt for her, everything she was making him feel into words that he groaned desperately against her earlobe.

He couldn't stop.

Kissing her neck didn't help. He still mumbled against her silky, sweat-sheened skin as he sucked on her nipples, too. Jax was loving her hard and the girl moaning beneath him—_Fuck_, it felt like she was loving him even harder. How was that possible when she was the virgin? She felt too fuckin good to be true but she was real. He pinched her nipple and the gasp from her mouth wasn't imagined. The nails digging into his sides were sure to leave marks that wouldn't be possible if what he was experiencing were a dream. God, he wished he could just shut the fuck up. He was starting to sound like the very thing he was buried deep inside of—he was starting to sound like a straight up pussy. Telling her how beautiful her eyes were, reminding her that she was the only girl he loved, the only girl he'd _ever _love. Calling her _Tara Grace _because shouting out her first name wasn't good enough. "_My _Grace," he told her. "_You're mine, Tara. _My _Tara Grace." _Jax waited for it—the sound of her laughter at his humiliation. Maybe it would have been easier to convince her that the moisture staining his cheeks was purely from sweat. Jackson Teller had never done the walk of shame once in his sixteen years of living. But he would do it tonight. He couldn't cuddle with her after the total mind-fuck she was giving him. Had had no control over his voice. He'd officially gone soft. And that wasn't the guy she'd fallen in love with.

"_Jackkkson," _Tara screamed. Stars danced in front of his eyes, bright spots beaming behind them as he felt her clench around him even tighter than he thought possible. She was on the edge. It was so close, he could reach out and touch it.

So he did.

Jax braced his hand against the bed as he rose up off her slightly, still pumping in and out of her hard and fast as his thumb found her clit, rubbing it—stroking her sensitive nub until Tara cried out with words she couldn't hold back even if, like him, she'd been worried about how they sounded. "OH _GOD, JACKSON…I love you, Baby...I love you sooo much..."_

Tara loved him, too.

That fact bounced around in his head, a soothing caress on his oddly multi-tracked mind as he followed her over the cliff, spilling inside of her with only the condom to thank for them not conceiving the child he'd been whispering about just minutes before, when he'd told her that if they ever had a daughter, he wanted her to have her mother's eyes.

She loved him back.

She loved him just as much as he loved her—enough to lose control of certain parts of her body, like her mouth, her vocal cords...her mind.

All along she'd been whispering her own sultry, passionate words against his ear even though they were drowned out by his own thoughts both internal and out. It didn't matter if he had gone soft. That was the reason there wasn't a trace of regret in her emerald eyes—that tiny modicum of doubt, of fear that she might end up wishing she could take it back despite what she'd had told her aunt about never regretting it no matter what.

It was there all along, but he couldn't see past the blinders, past the wall Tara had built around it, burying it deep inside her—the hidden emotion waiting to rear its ugly head at the first sign of trouble after.

It was over.

She'd done it.

She'd given her virginity to the only guy she'd ever loved, the only one she wanted to be with for the rest of her teenage life and all the stressful adult years that followed. The fear was gone. Poof. Up in smoke. Doubt about their future together was nowhere to be found. And it was all because of everything Jax had told her. It was the way he looked at her now as he laid next to her, his hand splayed against her stomach as she rested her head in the crook of the arm he threw around her. Jackson Teller didn't have a damn thing to be embarrassed about. He'd told her the truth, everything she'd ever want to hear. All of those sweet nothings he'd whispered meant everything. Just like _she_ meant everything. Tara Knowles meant everything to him. And Jackson Teller meant everything to her.

They both meant everything to each other.

* * *

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"_Jax." _His eyes fluttered opening, a wide smile spreading across his face at the sound of her voice "You awake?" Jax opted to respond to her question by dipping his head to kiss her shoulder, the hand resting on her stomach pulling back tighter against him. "It's twelve-oh-eight, Jax."

"Yeah?" Jax nuzzled her necked. "Is that code for round _three_?"

Tara rolled her eyes. "It's a new day, Jax," she told him. "It's _your _day." Turning her body to face him, Tara brushed her lips against his once, twice, then one last lingering time before pulling back to grin at him. "_Happy Birthday, Jackson."_

Jax kissed the tip of her nose. "Best. Birthday. _Ever."_

Tara giggled. "The day just started!" she scolded. "You're only eight minutes in. Why would you jinx yourself?"

"I _know _it's going to be the best birthday," Jax assured her. "Because I plan on spending every second of it with you."

_Preferably in bed._

Tara's scoff was weak at best as red flooded her cheeks. "Quit trying to charm me, Teller. You already got me out of my pants."

Jax chuckled, grazing her mouth with his. "I love you."

"You're going to _hate_ me when I tell you, you have to leave," Tara warned.

Jax shook his head. "I'm stronger than you, Babe," he boasted, wrapping his arms around her even tighter. "And I'm telling you right now, there is no way in _Hell _either one of us are getting out of this bed."

Tara cocked an eyebrow at him. "What if you have to pee?"

"I think I saw an empty water bottle underneath your bed when I bent down to get the condoms."

Tara shook her head at him, smiling. "What if I have to pee?"

"There's no window in your bathroom so I'll allow it," Jax told her. "No walking beyond that spot over there," he explained, pointing towards her closed bedroom door where he'd kicked off his sneakers as soon as they walked in.

Tara's smile faltered a little as she forced solemnness into her expression. Pulling out of his embrace, she sat up, her back pressing against her headboard. "I want you to stay, Jax. I really do, but you can't."

Jax quickly sat up with her. "I thought your aunt was staying at the hospital? I know your dad isn't coming home tonight, so…"

Tara shook her head at him, her grin returning even wider then it had been moments before. "I _love_ you." Jax reached for her, cupping her face as he pressed his mouth to hers. Tara pulled away too soon for his liking. "I love you, Jackson….but I'm not the _only_ one who does."

Jax shrugged. "I can spend time with those people tomorrow….._or next month. _Depends on our schedule."

Tara's giggle was a half-groan as she rested her forehead against his. "I'm serious, Baby. You gotta go."

Jax shook his head 'no'. "You still haven't given me a reason I should."

_It has to be a good one._

_A really fuckin good one._

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It was quiet on the lot. The Harley he sat on was the only one in sight. An empty, quiet clubhouse was a very rare occurrence no matter what day of the week it was. Where the Hell was everybody? He'd turned up hoping to get the ass whipping Kozik and the guys had waiting for him over with when he returned his bike. After the night he'd had Jax could say with conviction that being with Tara was worth every extra s_pecial _birthday punch he had coming to him.

It took quite a bit of convincing entirely on her part but after almost a half hours' worth of lecturing and one more round of her rocking his world Tara was able to shoo him out through her front door with a promise that she would see him later.

He'd left her house an hour ago. And he'd been sitting in the Teller-Morrow parking lot on Kozik's bike ever since then, weighing his options. Sixty minutes apart from her was long enough for the hazing effect of her influence over him to wear off. Everything she'd reminded him of had finally went out of the other ear. And as Jax pulled the cellphone from his pocket, he smirked knowing that Tara Knowles was going to have one Hell of a time convincing him not to ride back over to her house without her presence to distract him—to charm him into doing what she wanted him to.

Tara picked up on the third ring. _"Hello?"_ she mumbled groggily.

"Hey, Babe," Jax crooned into the phone. "Sounds like I woke you up."

"_You did," _Tara answered. Her words were muffled by her yawning as she asked him, "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Everything's good."

"Oh….well then I have a very special birthday punch for you…..I _just_ fell asleep, Jackson!"

"I'm sorry," Jax told her, barely swallowing his laughter. He wasn't sorry at all. "I didn't mean to wake you. It's just I had this really weird exchange when I went stopped at the pharmacy on my way to see JT…."

Jax heard her sit up in her bed. "What happened?"

_"It was my first time, asshole," Louise snapped. "I didn't expect an engagement ring. Hell, I only half-expected you to keep your promise to call me the next day. I would think you could have at least remembered my name."_

Jax shook his head. "It's nothing," he assured her as he shook the exchange from his memory. "I just wanted to make sure I didn't forget to call you…._I love you, Baby."_

Tara's wild laughter tickled his eardrum. "You can ask me to _marry_ you, Jax…get down on one knee with thirty carat diamond ring, the whole nine yards...I'm _still _not letting you back into my house tonight."

Well there was always her bedroom window…

"And I already locked my window," she added.

_DAMN IT._

"When I left you told me you'd see me in the morning," Jax argued. "_Technically_ it's morning now, Babe."

"Being a smart ass is _my _role, Teller," Tara joked.

"You're right," Jax agreed, taunting her. "If I take that away from you I don't know what else you can bring into this relationship."

"_Relationship?" _Tara repeated. He imagined her eyebrows rising, pictured the smile dimpling her cheeks.

"Yeah, Babe," Jax said. "I made it official weeks ago. Where the Hell were you? I put a _RingPop _on it, Baby. You're stuck with me."

"I'm an old-fashioned kinda girl," Tara said, laughing at him. "You want me to be your girl you have to ask me to _go steady_ with you."

Jax snorted. "Not on your _life," _he exclaimed, shaking his head. "You're my girl. End of the story."

"I don't get a say?"

"Nope," Jax told her, with an extra _popping _letter 'P'.

Tara giggled. "I'm not _that_ old-fashioned," she told him. "This ain't the fifties, asshole._ I'll _wear the pants if I want to, Teller. Remember that."

_How about neither one us wear pants? Or shirts._

"I don't hear you denying what I'm telling you," Jax goaded. "Admit it, Knowles. You've been _dying _to be my girlfriend."

Tara snickered. "Where are you right now? I've been waiting to hear Gemma say something smart about that _gash _you're spending so much time with," she joked.

Jax's smile drooped to the same grim line it was when she'd first convinced him to leave—to go home.

"I'm at the clubhouse," He admitted quietly. "Nobody's around though. It's like a ghost town for some reason. I think I'll just crash here."

"Jax," Tara groaned. "I didn't force you to leave so you would be alone. _Go_ home," she urged. "It's your birthday, Jackson. Let Gemma spoil you like she always does….give her the one day out of the year when she can _justify_ giving her Prince whatever he wants."

"I'm still pissed at her," Jax growled. "Every time I think about her. Every time I see her smile I wonder if she's thinking about that asshole—"

"You were pissed at your dad, too," Tara reminded him gently. "And we both know what it was like thinking you lost him. We _both _got to feel what that's like. You, a few weeks ago and he me, a few _hours_. Flaws and all….no matter how _pissed _she gets you, she's still your mother, Jackson. She's _always _going to be your mother. And you only get one…_I know that, too."_

Jax shook his head in disbelief, raking a hand through his hair. "Gemma trashes you every chance she gets and you're sitting here defending her."

Tara sighed into the phone. "Your mother hates _me, _Jax. That will never stop her loving you. And no matter how angry you are, you love her, too."

Tara was right and he hated her for it. But he also loved her.

_Damn it._

You really could hate someone and still love them. There was such a thin line between the two.

"Fine," Jax grumbled, scowling. "But you're coming to the clubhouse later, right?"

"For the _Annual Prince Teller Ball_?" Tara taunted. She really had no idea how nervous he was waiting for her answer as his mind flashed back to how shitty he'd treated her the last time she showed up at the clubhouse for him three years ago. "_Hmmm_...I'll see if I can fit into my busy schedule."

Jax breathed a sigh of relief, his mouth shooting up at the corners. "Try to fit in a lap dance while you're at it."

Tara smacked her lips. "And on _that_ note...see you soon, Birthday boy. "

Jax smirked. "Later….._Darlin."_

Her eyes were narrowed to slits. He could almost feel it.

"I'm _punching_ you through the phone," Tara said.

Jax laughed. "And I'm _kissing_ you….want to guess where?"

"I_ want_ to go back to sleep!" Tara complained.

Jax shrugged. "So go to sleep then."

"I can't if you won't hang up the phone."

Jax pursed his lips. "Your phone has an END button too, Tara."

"Ladies first," Tara teased. "That means _you…._Jackie-_girl."_

_Jacquelyn._

_Jacquelyn is a pretty name for a girl…my girl._

_Jacquelyn Grace Teller._

Goddamn it. He wasn't even having sex with her now. Why the Hell was he still thinking about a baby girl with soft, blonde curls and emerald eyes?

_You are what you eat, Man. _

_You are SO THE FUCK what you eat._

Jax chuckled. "I guess we're at a crossroads."

"You mean an _impasse?" _Tara corrected.

"I knew that."

_Just like I know how much you _Love_ correcting people._

"You called me!" Tara growled. "Hang up the phone!"

Jax smirked. "So….._what are you wearing?"_

"UGH."

He laughed in her ear, wishing he could do it literally—that he was still lying next to her.

But he wasn't. And he knew just how stubborn his _girlfriend. _Tara would not backing down from her request. And more than that, she wasn't strong and wrong like he often was. Everything she'd said to him was true. He just needed to grin and bear it, spend the day with his mother.

But then again….it was _his_ birthday.

"Prince Teller asks for whatever he wants and his mother has to give it to him, right?" Jax said, the mischief in his smile evident in his voice, too.

"DUH."

Jax laughed. "Alright then, Babe. I already have the first thing on my list."

_Gemma's going to be PISSED when you crash her birthday breakfast. _

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**WELL...**there you have it, people. I finally grew a pair and tackled the scene I've been stressing over ever since I realized this arc was steering towards it. What did you think? Favorite moments? Lines? Feedback overall would be much appreciated. Thanks to those who encouraged me with your (written) confidence in me being able to deliver this particular chapter when I doubted it. I pushed through for you so I hope you liked it! Also, the pads of my fingers are pretty sore so I'd love some good feedback to read while I give them a break before writing the next chapter.

**|REVIEW|**


	70. Chapter 63

**A/N: **_Happy Sixteenth Birthday, Jackson Teller..._how **happy **will it be though?

**FYI: **I decided to do some **flashbacks **to certain moments/events that took place during the 3 week time jump.

**P.S: **If you haven't already, Please ***Like*** my page on facebook [slash] (VeritableOldLadyCrow). I'll probably ask for some input now and again as I try to finish this story so I can think about a _possible_ part two. And also it'll serve as a way for my alter ego to chat with all my fanfiction peeps should we have to endure another **503 **situation lol

**P.S.S: **I've been literally cutting and pasting each section as I save and finish it &amp; it's already (at last count) **7****k **words so it's looking like this'll be another split chapter. Hope you like what I manage to flesh out.

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

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**_THREE WEEKS EARLIER..._**

_"Tara!" Opie yelled. Tara's head snapped up, green eyes staring blankly at the sixteen year old boy running towards her. He came to a stop in front of her, where she sat on the middle step in front of her house, wringing bloodstained hands in her lap as she absently rocked back and forth. "Holy Shit," Opie exclaimed. Kneeling down in front of her, he grabbed her hands, turning her palms upward to check for bruises on her hands, her arms, eyes frantically scanning her bloodied shirt for rips or holes from wounds, glancing up towards her shoulder—the shoulder that was barely healed from the car accident she'd been in almost a week before. Tara was fine, she wasn't hurt—not physically at least. But when Opie finally met her eyes, the anguish in them, the fear and worry swirling in the green was like a physical blow that made his own chest feel as if it had been stomped on over and over again._

_Like Kyle Hobart's had._

_"It's not my blood," Tara explained, her voice flat as she looked down at the ground. "None of it is. It's _Kyle's._ All of it's….. ...it's all h-h-hisss...It's his blood. Kyle's blood is all over me….it was a-lll over….him. Jax was….Jackson…they…" Opie pushed at her chin gently until she met his eyes again. "I'm fine, Opie. I'm _okay," _Tara said, smiling. "__It's not my blood. It's his….it's Kyle's. And Jackson's…from his….from his hands….God….he beat him until his hands were raw…and bloody…..there was just so much blood."_

_"Tara." Opie placed a hand on her shoulders. "Everything's going to be okay."_

_Tara started giggling suddenly, but the laughter bubbling from her throat couldn't belie the tears trickling down her face. "Maybe it's the _name,"_ she joked darkly. "Kyle _Tanner_….Kyle _Hobart_….maybe Jax just doesn't like guys with the name Kyle. Maybe he's destined to beat the_ shit _out of _every Kyle_ he meets until their bloody….until his knuckles are _raw._ And maybe I'm meant to watch it happen every time. May—maybe, that's just—"_

_"What the Hell happened?" Opie asked. "Gemma won't tell us Shit. Not even, Pop. What the Hell did Kyle say to you? What did he _do_?"_

_Tara shook her head. "He didn't do anything to me," she told him. "It wasn't about me at all. It was about Jax. It was about his father. He said something to him and….and...it made him angry. And now there's all this blood…" Tara gestured towards her shirt, looked at the red tinting the skin of her fingers. "There's so much blood….and Kyle's in the hospital…and Jax is….Jackson is gone. _They took him Opie**. **_They _took**, **_Jax. And I feel horrible. I feel like the worst person in the world because when Unser showed up….when Kyle's uncle threw him to the ground and handcuffed him…I was_ happy_**. **I was happy when they arrested him. He wouldn't _stop. _I yelled and screamed and pulled and he wouldn't stop...So when...when Principal Mason called the cops I was _happy._ I was glad Mason walked out and found us instead of _you**. **_Because you would have helped him just like you did before."_

_Opie shook his head. "No I wouldn't have," he argued gently. "I would have tried to stop him, too. I _would _have stopped him, Tara. It doesn't matter what Kyle said about JT. He's not worth—"_

_"Going to jail for murder?" Tara challenged. "_Why not?_ Isn't that what you _Outlaws_ do? Kill people? _Choke_ them? Beat them within an inch of their lives for disrespecting your family?"_

_"We're not SAMCRO, Tara," Opie told her, moving to sit down next to her._

_"Not _yet_," Tara whispered._

_Opie shook his head again. "Even if we were it wouldn't matter," he told her. "That's not what the clubs about Tara. And they...uh...they have this saying. I'm sure you've seen it on the wall at the clubhouse before."_

_Tara smirked. "Brain over bullets?" The brunette rolled her eyes, scowling. "Jackson doesn't think about anything. He's _reactive._ He flips the fuck out and deals with whatever the aftermath is later."_

_"I'm not _Jax_," Opie explained. "I'm the one that does think about shit. That Tanner asshole deserved what happened to him for trying to force himself onto you. But beating the shit out of someone is one thing. I don't know what the Hell Kyle said to Jax that pissed him off but I know it wasn't worth catching a case over. And I'm _telling_ you I would have never let him do that if I was there. None of the guys would have either. Kozik, Happy, any of them. They wouldn't let him throw his life away for some punk Prospect...some_ bitch-boy._ They're not just a bunch of thugs. They don't give a shit about street cred. I wish you'd stop judging so fuckin much and—"_

_"When did you become the club's spokesperson?" Tara wondered, squinting her eyes at him. "I'm used to Jax defending them but when did you jump on the campaign trail for SAMCRO? Piney doesn't even _want_ you prospecting. Every time you catches you drooling over his bike he looks like he wants to ship you off to wherever your mother ran off to." Tara straightened up, eyes widening, her mouth forming an O-shape when a dark look fell over Opie's face. "I'm sorry, Opie. I didn't mean to….it's just….you never lecture me about the club. You always brush it off."_

_"Maybe that was a mistake," Opie replied. "Making you think I don't care about them. That the club doesn't mean anything to me when it does."_

_"I rationalized it," Tara confessed quietly, turning away from him. "The first few punches he threw….I felt like Kyle deserved it…because of what he said to him…..such a fucked up thing to say to someone…_about_ someone...to someones...child..."_

_"Are you going to tell me what he said?"_

_"He told Jax that his father tried to kill himself," Tara half-whispered. She swiped the back of her hand underneath her eyes. "He told him JT's accident wasn't _really _an accident and…and the _club _was probably going to kick him out because of it." Opie slid over, closing the gap between them. As if her head was suddenly to heavy for her to hold up, Tara immediately leaned towards him, resting her head against his shoulder. "JT didn't try to commit suicide, Opie. It makes no sense. I know he lost a son….but he still has one. He has a great one, an amazing one. Jackson is worth sticking around for and John Teller has to know that. Even if he's in pain….even if he's still hurting over Thomas….Jax misses Tommy, too. We all do. And I know Gemma does. That's probably why she won't let Jax tie his own shoe laces. That's not an _excuse_. That doesn't make it okay. There's no way he's that self—"_

_"I know, Tara," Opie promised. Wrapping an arm around her, he pulled her in closer. "Kyle's full of shit. He was probably just trying to piss Jax off. And he picked a really shitty time to do it. It's going to be okay."_

_"He didn't do it, right?" Tara pulled away, tears welling in her eyes as she shook her head in answer to her own question. "There's no way it's true, right? Kyle _had _to be lying—"_

_"Tara—"_

_Tara's watery smile didn't reach her eyes. "Parents are supposed to push through their pain so they can be there for their kids no matter what."_

_"This isn't like that," Opie promised her. "JT didn't do it. He has no reason to—"_

_"But you think _she_ had a reason to?" Tara asked._

_Opie didn't have an answer for her. And if he could bring himself to find one, he knew it would be the wrong answer no matter which one he chose or what words he used to respond. So he did the only thing he could do._

_He tried changing the subject._

_"Clay got a majority vote last night," Opie told her. "That's why me and Pop were arguing this morning when you heard us yelling...Piney's the only one that went against me and Jax prospecting at sixteen. Everyone else agreed with Clay. If we want to prospect now we have to do an extra year to earn the patch. It's our way of proving we're not just patches because our fathers are founding members."_

_And for once in his life, luck was on his side when it came to the female gender._

_"Wow." Tara turned towards him, wiping the tears that hadn't yet dried with the sleeve of her sweater. "So I guess Piney's not happy about you joining the club then. I mean….you can't prospect _and _go to school can you?"_

_Opie nodded. "You're right about my old man," He admitted. "These past few years….all he does is grumble and complain….yell at me about cutting school or always hanging around the clubhouse. I thought he was just being a grouchy bastard…or maybe it was because sometimes he feels guilty about my mom leaving…about her wanting more for me than growing up and becoming my Old man. I thought he'd get over it. Or even if he didn't I never thought he'd actually have a problem with me being a part of the club."_

_"Are you sure that's what _you_ want?"_

_Opie shrugged his shoulders, a scowl forming on his face. "It doesn't matter what I want," he grumbled. "I need a sponsor to prospect. It _should_ be my Old man but he won't do it. And the fact that he won't let's the club know he's not okay with it so who the Hell am I supposed to ask? Tig? Kozik? Happy? Clay? All that would do is cause more trouble for Pop and the guys. He'd feel like whoever gave me an in betrayed him and even if I got one of them to do it I still need a unanimous vote to earn my patch."_

_"_Two years,_" Tara commented. "That's a lot of time for your dad to get over whatever he has against you being a part of the club…._if that's what you want..._"_

_"I want my father to be okay with it!" Opie snapped, jumping up from the steps. "You know what? Fuck that. I want him to be proud of it! He's supposed to be knocking back shot,_ celebrating _his son! He's supposed to _want _me sitting at the table with him. I don't know what the fuck his problem is! I really wish he would just spit it the fuck out so we can settle whatever it is!"_

_"Maybe he wants more for you," Tara answered honestly. "I agree with him, Opie."_

_"Well then I _disagree_ with both of you," Opie argued, nostrils flaring. "I don't need a fuckin Doctorate...or a Masters Degree...I don't need money. I don't need a big house and I don't need a fuckin sports car. I'm about _family. _That's what I was _raised_ to care about. I need my family, I need to be surrounded by the people I love and respect, people that love and respect _me._ That's what I _want, _Tara. Is that too fuckin much to ask for?"_

_Tara shook her head, her mouth twitching at the corners. "Y'uuup."_

_Opie rolled his eyes. "I don't care if I have to wait until I'm eighteen and prospect for another charter. Put in for transfer somewhere down the line when he gets over whatever this shit is that's got him pushing me away from the club. I'm joining SAMCRO whether Piney is cool with it or not."_

_"Okay."_

_"What do you mean _Okay?_" Opie barked. "I didn't ask for your approval about—"_

_"I'm not approving anything," Tara interrupted, smiling up at him. "If you need my approval you'll be waiting a _longggg_ time. You'll get Piney's before you get mine. I'm not giving my approval, Opie. I'm saying okay because you're my brother and I'm going to support you no matter what. Even if I think you're doing the wrong—"_

_"_What did you just say to me?"

_"You mean what am I _trying_ to say that you won't let me because you can't stop growling at me like you're the fuckin Hulk?" Tara joked, cocking an eyebrow at him. "I'm saying I support you even if I think you're being an idiot. It's part of the best friend, big brother Opie package, okay? Just promise me when you lose your shit and try to beat a guy to death you'll make sure I'm not around to see it. I_ hated_ seeing Jackson like that. It scared me….._He _scared me."_

_"Hale is the judge on his case," Opie commented. "I overheard Gemma yelling at her lawyer over the phone. He could be looking at a three months to a year for a first time offender. I don't know if he'll get probation though. And with Hale being the judge trying his case he's probably giving him the maximum."_

_"SHIT!" Opie flinched as Tara jumped up, kicking the railing of her front steps._

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Gemma Teller had spent half the night and most of the wee hours of morning gnawing away at her bottom lip, stewing in silence much like the food cooking on her kitchen stove as she waited for her son to come home. It was twenty minutes after three when Gemma finally gave up on waiting to see if he'd show up at all. She slammed the spatula in her hand down on the counter, yanked the apron from around her waist and quickly turned on her heel, heading into the living room with every intention of yelling up the stairs to Wendy that she'd be back in an hour and to, _"Make sure the food doesn't burn," _and while she's at it, _"Teach Lowell how to sneak out through a bedroom window without stomping across her goddamn roof!" _Her car keys were in her crosshairs, the only objective as she plotted just how she could manage to drag her son home so he could enjoy and _motherfuckin _appreciate the birthday breakfast and celebration she had planned for him and still have time to get rid of that annoying little bitch Tara without any witnesses. She'd had enough of their teenage love bullshit.

Gemma stopped, hidden behind the wall separating the living room from the kitchen. Keys jingled in the front door's lock seconds after the rumbling of a motorcycle stopped. Her eyes widened briefly before her husbands present day condition snapped to the forefront of her mind. JT was in no shape to ride. And the only other person who had keys to her house was—

Gemma peeked into the room just in time. If she hadn't moved just then she would have missed her son completely.

Not that she wouldn't have heard him.

There was no way she could miss the way he stomped up the stairs, or the way he slammed his bedroom door shut moments after. It was a very strained effort to swallow her tears and all the bitterness that came with it as Gemma thought back to a time when her son used to rush home, damn near breaking her bedroom door down just to jump on her bed and all but demand to know what her and JT got him for his birthday. "_Did I get my Harley this year?" _Jax would ask. He'd posed the same question on Christmas morning, wondering if they'd left it at the garage to surprise him when he didn't see it parked in the driveway when he ran downstairs ignoring the presents under the tree. They'd always remind him that he'd get it when he was sixteen and yet and still he'd always hope that his eagerness—his constant reminding of just how badly he wanted it would somehow convince them to buy it for him earlier. Smirking to herself, Gemma acknowledged that it was the one instance where she'd let JT have his way with their son. It was the one rule she refused to break. The one thing she left up to his father. Still, she'd need more fingers than the five on each of her hands to count how many times she'd tried to persuade her Old man to let Jackson have his bike a few years earlier.

The year was finally here though.

The big one-six. Jackson would finally get the one thing he'd always asked for from the time he knew what it was, what it meant for the club, for the family he'd one day be a part of, be the _leader _of. Jackson was getting his bike today and he'd be riding with the future brothers of _his _club—the men who would ride behind him when he took the gavel.

JT being alive wouldn't matter now.

Gemma could see the defiance in her son's eyes whenever his father talked to him. Her son would _be _at the head of that Reaper table no matter what his washed up Old man thought about it. That crippled, shell-of-a-man's reign was over.

He was done before his bike crashed.

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_**THREE WEEKS EARLIER...**_

_"THIS IS _BULLSHIT!"_ John Teller screamed. "I'M DONE!"_

_"John, listen to me," the young doctor urged, flinching backwards when the irate man jerked his arm out of reach. "This is only day three. We have a long road ahead of us, I'm not going to lie. But you have to—"_

_"I don't have to do _shit!_" John snapped. The way he looked at the fallen crutch on the floor made it clear that he would have kicked it clear across the room if he didn't fear injuring his leg further. "I don't need another goddamn speech about anything. My hearing is fine just like yours. Doc' says the chances of me riding again—"_

_"Riding a motorcycle is what we'd call a _long-term_ goal," The physical therapist argued. "And in all honesty he can't guarantee anything. It up to_ you..._You and how well your body heals._ _ You have to learn to crawl before you can walk, Mr. Teller. In your case walking is the _crawling _part. Riding a bike…roller-skating… running ten laps around a track? That would be the _walking. _You can't just expect it to happen overnight. Not when you're not even try__—__"_

_"The doctor says it's not happening at all," John Teller growled, glaring up at him from the wheelchair he sat in. "This shit is pointless! What the fuck do I need to_ crawl _for? I'm the President of a goddamn motorcycle club. My MC is my _life._ You think I can just go back to the guys with a bus pass? A handicap sticker for some piece of shit cage that I can barely afford after all the money I'm_ wasting _in this hospital? On some bullshit physical therapy when all you can guarantee me is that I'll at least be able to walk with the help of a fuckin _cane?"

"How's it going?"

_Tara jerked her head towards the doctor who'd suddenly appeared beside her._

_ Doctor Aiden Marcel's smile was encouraging, teasing even as he waited for her answer._

_"She did even better today," Wendy interjected, patting her good shoulder. "She did ten sets. And…..um….was it fifteen reps or twelve? _Tara?"

_"Mr. Teller—"_

_Tuning both Wendy and her doctor out, Tara watched as John Teller waved his hand, shutting his eyes to the urgent expression on his frustrated therapist's face. "Just take me back to my room."_

_"The longer you delay thera—"_

_"_I said take me back to my fuckin room!" _John growled, opening his eyes to glower at him. _

_"I'll go get your chart," the therapist announced, scurrying from the room. _

_"Tara?" Wendy repeated, turning towards the other end of St. Thomas' private rehabilitation facility where she was staring. _

_Tara shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the conversation she'd been listening in on. "Umm…" she pulled at her ponytail. "It was _fifteen_," Tara declared after a moment. "And I actually did eleven sets."_

_Doctor Marcel chuckled lightly. "Your aunt said you were an overachiever," he joked, laughing harder when the young brunette rolled her eyes. "Do me a favor though, sweetheart. Let's stick to eleven Reps for now, okay? Overexerting yourself can cause re-injury and we don't want that. I don't want to have to open you up again and fix anything."_

_"Trust me, Doc," Tara assured him, her eyes widening. "No one hates the idea of that more than me!"_

_Wendy moved to stand up from the stool she'd been sitting on as she read a magazine, commenting on the sexiness of George Clooney as Tara worked with her assigned therapist. "She's done for the day, right?"_

_Doctor Marcel eyed the chart in his hand. "She's done for the _week_ actually," he amended. "As I said before, no pushing or heavy lifting while at home. Only take one pill, not two for any pain or discomfort although you _should_ be able to bare any remaining soreness at this point. And—"_

_Wendy snickered behind her hand as Tara shook her head. "I haven't taken a pill since the three nights I was home," Tara told him. "My shoulder still hurts a little after therapy but I'm not trying to be the next teen addicted to Oxy, you know? And from what I hear…it's probably better if I'm not high on _anything."

_Wendy giggled. "Not according to _Jax."

_"Okay then," the doctor said, smiling at the two teenagers. "Keep taking your iron and calcium pills I prescribed…with a _meal, _preferably breakfast. I ran into your aunt in the hallway and she was happy to snitch on you. You've been skipping meals, Tara. That's not good. You need your vitamins _and _food with them to curb the nausea. You need be eating if you're going to be working out, even if it is just physical therapy."_

_"I know, I know," Tara urged, rolling her eyes. "I'll stop by the store and buy some bagels or pop tarts. Something quick that I can take with me so I'm not late for school."_

_"Pop tarts aren't actually good for you," Doctor Marcel commented. "And bagels are nothing but empty—_okay, I see what Diane means about the death glare—_Pop tarts and bagels it is! I'll go print out the paperwork you need for your guidance counselor for the extension on you being excused from gym. When you're finished changing, you can just head over to the circulation desk. Pamela will have everything for you."_

_"Thanks," Tara said, standing up. _

_"Am I free to go, too?" Wendy asked as the doctor walked off. "You're riding home with your aunt after her shift, right?"_

_Tara cocked an eyebrow at her, smiling. "Why are you even here in the first place? _Seriously,_ am I the _only _one that thinks this is weird?"_

_"The girl Jackson Teller used to screw hanging out with the girl he's been writing love poems about since like fourth grade?" Wendy mused, smirking. "_Nope._ I think it's pretty fuckin weird." The cynical blonde shrugged her shoulders. "You let me crash at your house while my mom was….well…_you know. _And besides, Jax is all _serious _about you or whatever so I think I should try getting used to the whole _three's a crowd _thing. Don't confuse me for Tinkerbelle though. I'm very_ bro's over hoe's just FYI_._"

_"Don't you mean _four?" _Tara teased, giggling. "What about you and Lowell?"_

_Wendy snorted, rolling her eyes. Tara kicked out, narrowly missing her ankle when Wendy made a point of patting her a little harder on her _bad _shoulder before rushing past her. "Later, _Glinda!_ I need to go home...and walk my _puppy._"_

_"Stop calling him that!" Tara scolded, shaking her head as she watched the blonde dissappear around the corner where the elevators were. __Wendy liked Lowell, w__hether she'd admit to it or not. And that actually made it a lot easier for her not to worry about her and Jax being so close. _

_Tara was walking towards the desk towards Pamela Torric, the Nurse seated behind it when she came to a stop, listening in on yet another conversation that wasn't meant for her. _

_"...that's why I'm hoping if I leave him in there long enough he'll wheel his ass back to his room by himself," the therapist complained to the cute, redheaded nurse, giggling away at his frustration from behind the counter. "I_ swear_ he acts like it's _my _fault he crashed his Harley into a fuckin Mac truck. I'm not the reason his _precious_ clll-uub is going to kick him out. Hell, they probably don't want him in charge anyway. How the Hell do they follow behind a guy like that? SAMCRO is supposed to be this legendary MC. That's what my Uncle told me when I moved out here with him a couple months ago. You mean to tell me that pathetic loser in there is _the_ President? The town is supposed to fear_ him? _I__ thought the leader was supposed to be a _man_, not a—"_

_"The walls have ears around here," Tara commented, making the venting therapist flinch as he turned towards her. "You should be careful about what you say, especially when it's about certain..._people_. Injured or not, he's still the president. And no matter what he's _always _going to be SAMCRO. If you were a townie you'd know better than to talk shit about _any_ of them," Tara warned. Then a wry smile spread across her face as she added, "Then again, I've lived her for almost thirteen years and I still haven't learned to keep my mouth shut. _But I also have the scars around my neck to prove it," _she told him, pointing towards the faded claw marks from when Gemma Teller choked her at the Charming Fundraiser. _

_Satisfaction was the source of her smile as Tara walked away from the shocked expression on the faces of both the Nurse and the therapist after leaning over to snatch the papers waiting for her off the desk in front of Nurse Torric. Opening the door, she stepped back inside the rehab center room, stalking towards the man, staring down at his lap, his chest rising and falling fast as he fumed over being left behind. _

"I snuck a peek at your chart."_ John Teller looked up at the sound of her voice. "Your arm broke in the same place as mine," Tara mused. "And they fixed it...just like mine. It's probably still sore on top of everything else you broke or fractured but I'm sure you can at least wheel yourself back to your room if you wanted to."_

_John shook his head at her, a biting smile spreading across his face. "You here to be the Angel on my shoulder? My guiding light?" he sneered. "Is that your way of making up for trying to turn my son against me? Well guess what, little girl? I don't need an apology. And there ain't a damn thing you need to feel sorry about. I fucked things up with Jackson long before you decided to add more coals to the fire. Just go. Go home, Tara. You're off the hook. I'm not like, Gemma. I'm not about to shovel my own—"_

_"I didn't come in here to _apologize_ to you," Tara exclaimed, her eyes narrowing. "I came in here to tell you to stop being a _pussy."

_"What the fuck did you just say to me?" John moved to jump up, stopping mid-spring as the pang in his left knee and right leg reminded him why any sudden movement was out of the question._

_Tara smirked. "That's right," the angry brunette taunted. "Gemma's the only one that can go all _outlaw _on my ass right _now._ Even if you wanted to lunge at me and put me in my place, you can't. You can't even walk to the bathroom without a nurse holding you up and you're refusing to _try_."_

_"Careful, Darlin," John warned._

_"What the Hell are you going to do to me?" Tara sneered. She nodded towards the floor. "You going to beat me unconscious with one of your_ crutches?_ Beating the shit out of people seems to be a family tradition. Three days ago I watched your son beat Kyle Hobart into a fuckin coma with his bare hands. But you're a _cripple _now, so I guess you'll need to improvise a little bit."_

_"Jackson did _what?" _John Teller's eyebrows threaded together. He grunted lightly as he moved to adjust himself, sitting up straighter in the wheel chair. "What are you—when? Is he—did he—"_

_"Jesus Christ," Tara hissed, shaking her head. "You don't even know what's going on with your own family. And you wonder why they think you don't give a shit about them. Why your _son _thinks you checked out on him—"_

_"I _did _check out on—"_

_"Did you intend to do it _permanently?" _Tara cut in. "Because right now that's what _he _thinks!"_

_John shook his head, his expression growing more confused. "What the Hell are you talking about?"_

_Tara kicked out at his crutches, sending one flying into the ramp beside them. "I'm talking about your son being locked up in Juvenile Hall for three months because Hale couldn't get your _wife _three years ago so now he had to make an example out of tormented _FIFTEEN YEAR OLD!_ I was _there," _Tara yelled, nails grazing her cheek as she quickly swiped away the single tear that had escaped. "I saw the look on his face when Kyle told him….He _believed _what he said. But he didn't want to….he didn't _want _to believe and he was so….so _angry _because he did….he was angry with Kyle for putting everything he'd been feeling since your accident into words….words he didn't want to hear. He could have _killed _him. He could have….could have ruined his life all because he didn't know how to handle his father abandoning him."_

"He doesn't believe it was an accident."

_Tara glared at the man looking down at her feet. All the anger and pain, every tear she'd been used to holding in, saving for late at night when she thought her aunt was in too deep a sleep to hear her crying—the waves of every emotion weighing heavily on her, making every set of reps she pushed through while she watched the father of the boy she loved wallow in self-pity….it all came crashing through, breaking down the walls she'd hid behind._

_"I _know_," Tara told him, her voice small as the traitorous tears began to flow. "I know _exactly _what it feels like to have your father abandon you. I've been on my own since my mother died. I might as well be an orphan. I _have _no father. But Jackson does...He used to have one of the _best..._A man that would turn a blind eye to his _brother _threatening a thirteen year old girl because even if you couldn't bring yourself to do it _yourself_...you knew it was for the good of your family….because you knew it meant your son wouldn't lose his mother. I _know _what neglect is. I know what it looks when a father hates his child…when he doesn't give a _shit _about his daughter….or his _son. _And this isn't it. I know you care about him. I know you love your son. You might even love him more than _I _love him but _he_ doesn't know that. Jackson thinks you gave up….he thinks you gave up on _him_ and Gemma's happy to let him think that because that means more love for_ her. _ Even though she _knows_ how much her son still needs you. I'm not _apologizing_ to you," Tara said, sniffling. "I'm not here to say I'm sorry because I'm not. I didn't lie on you. I told the _truth _because that's what you're supposed to do. That's what Jackson deserves. He deserves the _truth_. And the truth is you love him."_

_"Of course I love him," John said. "He's my son."_

_"I love him, too," Tara admitted, smiling through her tears. "That's why I need him to be okay. That's why I'm begging you not to check out on him…begging you not to be like_ my _father. He needs to know how much you love__ him…you need to make him believe it because…..because I don't think _I'm_ enough. And I...I shouldn't _have _to be."_

_John Teller smiled. "You've been a thorn in Gemma's ass ever since Piney brought you to the clubhouse to play with Jax and Opie when you were little," he mused. "I couldn't understand why my Old Lady was always tweaking whenever she saw you around our son. I got no idea why it took me this long...but I'm starting to get it._ My_ mother reacted the same way when I came stumbling home drunk with a pretty, hazel-eyed bartender holding me up by my fatigues. She hated Gemma until the day she died. Didn't even show up to our wedding. Told me she_ _refused to watch the_ scheming harlot_ that stole her son from her walk down the aisle..._" _John laughed with Tara when the young teen shrugged as if to say 'well if the shoe fits'. "….Mothers don't like when teenage girls take their sons away from them."_

_Tara frowned. "I'm not taking anyone from anybody."_

_John smirked. "You mean you're not _trying _to," he corrected. "And that's because you don't have to. Shit hasn't changed since Even and Adam, Sweetheart. I might be the only sucker smart enough to know it but you _women_—"_

_ "My _God, _no wonder your son is such a misogynistic jerk!" Tara complained._

_John cocked an eyebrow, smiling. "Massage-your-what?" he teased. _

_Tara scoffed, rolling her eyes as she recalled the son in question trying and _failing _to lighten the mood with that same corny attempt at humor. "It's like you _spit _him out," she grumbled. _

_John shrugged. "Being yourself," he told her. "Just being who you are…that's enough for him. That's _all_ I'm saying, Doll. You don't _have _to try."_

_"Maybe not," Tara conceded, shaking her head. She pointed her finger at him. "But _you _do."_

_John nodded once. "I know."_

_"_So act like it!" _Tara shrieked. "I couldn't care less about SAMCRO. You and your evil _wench _of a wife know that better than anyone. So _what_ if you never ride again? You really think Jackson's going to give a shit as long as you're still here? You don't at least want to be able to stand up and clap for him if….I _don't know…._if he decided he actually _wants _to get his high school diploma? You think you can at least try to work on being able walk to the fridge to get your own fuckin beer instead of tossing the empty one at the back of his head when he doesn't get it fast enough? Maybe Jax _would_ be better off if you' stay a cripple. I thought about breaking Arthur's legs _and _arms every time he launched something at—"_

_"I would never do that," John said, glaring. Tara knew without question that the anger in his expression wasn't meant for her._

_ It was meant for her father. _

_It was anger at himself for ever being in a position where the young girl standing in front of him, the girl with one of the shittiest father's ever could even _compare _him to the 'Dad' she had waiting for her at home. _

_"_Prove it," _Tara challenged. "Get off your ass and move….._If you can't do it for yourself do it for _Jackson."_

_Both of them looked toward the door just as it shut behind him. The young, gossiping therapist she'd overheard earlier glanced nervously between the two of them as he walked over. Tara smirked, looking down to read the employee keycard with the name Roger Whitman underneath his picture._

_"Whitman?" Tara said. "Your Uncle is—"_

_"He teaches math at the high school," Roger explained, scratching his neck nervously. _

_"Wait until you hear the gossip about _him," _Tara teased, snickering when Roger turned red as a beet as he glanced towards the man he'd been talking shit about minutes before. She knew he was wondering if she'd snitched on him. _

_And Tara was happy to let him keep wondering._

_"Am I missing something?" John questioned._

_It was too bad that John Teller confirmed that she hadn't. _

_"Not a thing," Roger answered quickly, walking around to grip the handles behind his chair. "Paperwork's done. I can take you back to your room now…_Sir."

_Tara shook her head. "Get used to that line," she commented, turning to leave. "You'll be saying it every day until his insurance fund finally taps out."_

_"_The rehab is still open for a few more hours, isn't it?"

_Tara paused, standing outside the door, along the wall as she waited—as she listened._

_"Center closes at ten-thirty," Roger replied. "That's way more than a few hours. Why? Did you….did you maybe want to come back and try again _later?_"_

_"HEY, TARA!" John called, chuckling when he noted the surprise in her expression at being caught eavesdropping yet again._

_"Yeah?" Tara answered after she finally stepped from behind the wall where she'd foolishly thought he couldn't see her._

_"Why don't you stay a while?" John asked, smiling at her. He jutted his thumb at the young therapist standing next to him. "I have a feeling you'll be a way better coach than this idiot."_

_"He's a _physical therapist,_" Tara corrected. "Somewhere in his house theirs a degree hanging up on his wall."_

_John cocked an eyebrow at her. "You got somewhere you need to be right now?"_

_Tara closed the door behind her, crossing her arms over her chest. "Depends," she answered. "You expect me to sit here and watch you bitch about this being _bullshit_ like you did earlier?"_

_"You're a real smart ass," John told her. "Anybody ever tell you that? Always running your mouth off."_

_"I have _legs,_ too," Tara taunted. "And I can _run off _them as well. Think you'll ever be able to do that?__"_

_Roger coughed into his hand although it sounded a lot more like laughter._

_"Hand me those crutches,_ Whit,_" John instructed. "I think I'll give this ramp shit another shot...if nothing else than to get her to shut her damn mouth."_

_Tara rushed towards them, knocking both crutches back to the floor as Roger reached for them. She smiled at the death-glare both men shot her. "You didn't break your _back_," she commented. "And your arm has the same bolts and screws I've got in mine. I suggest you make like the half-robot you are and get your own damn crutches."_

_"Um, listen," Roger said. "Therapy is supposed to be—"_

"Oh shut up.**"**_ Tara waved her hand just as John had done to him earlier. Rolling her eyes, she told him, "I saw you in here the other day bullying that Old dude with the knee replacement! I'm surprised he didn't hit you in the head with his cane, the way you were shouting at him. The _only _reason you're not yelling and taunting _him _is because you're scared his Club is going to show up at your house and kick your ass…_.no matter how much shit you talk behind his back._"_

_"He was talking shit about me?" John asked, looking up at the nervous, red-faced young man standing next to him._

_Tara held a hand up at him. "_I'm _not afraid of Johnathan Teller, President of SAMCRO," she declared. "Especially since I know I can punch him and run right now if I wanted—"_

_"HEY!"_

_Tara laughed at the mock-scowl of outrage John casted at her. "He's an Outlaw biker for Christ sakes," she urged. "He's not your _grandmother. _You want him to respond? Tell him to"—Tara kicked the footrest of JT's wheelchair—"GET OFF HIS LAZY ASS!"_

_"It's like you said to him before," Roger argued, clearing his throat. "_I'm_ the one with the degree in here. So—"_

_"That's why you're free to stay to make sure he doesn't break anything else," Tara interrupted. "Doesn't mean I can't stick around and be moral support."_

_John's eyebrows rose. "You call this _support?"

_Tara clapped her hands. "Let's go," she ordered. "Get up!"_

_John bent forward, grunting as he picked the crutches off the floor, slowly rising to stand up on his own with Roger's hands on both his shoulders until he found his footing. Easing his way towards the ramp, he looked up at the green-eyed bully standing below it, narrowing her eyes at him through the gaps of the metal railing. "I only made it two steps the first day before I almost_ fell_ on my_ lazy ass,"_ John told her, looking towards the other end of the long path he was expected to walk. "I'm not making you any promises. But I think I can make it at least half—"_

_"Half-way's not good enough_," _Tara interjected, shaking her head. John was fairly certain that if she had a whistle handy she'd be blowing it in his face. "You're not a _pussy _are you? I didn't _think_ you were. I thought you were _Johnathan Teller._ That name is supposed to_ mean_ something around this town, isn't it? What are you gonna do if someone comes after Jax like he did when we were ten? You gonna run them over with your _wheelchair?"

_"I'm about to run _your _ass over with it," John mumbled under his breath as he hobbled across the ramp. "No wonder Gemma tried to choke your ass to death..._fuckin pain in the ass_...I got enough pain everywhere else and you're just piling more on to it...Before this hour is up, I'll..."_

_Tara snickered, quickly replacing the mirth in her expression with an evil glare when the father of the boy she loved looked over towards her. She was enjoying this a little too much. _

_But then, judging by the poorly hidden smile twitching the corners of John Teller's mouth….he was enjoying it too—at least a _little _bit._

* * *

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They had stayed on the phone for well over an hour. Jax had steadfastly refused to let her get any rest until Tara promised that she really _would_ see him later that morning—first thing, even before the date she already had planned with a certain patient at St. Thomas hospital. She'd also promised to let him join her for that as well, let him be there for moral support. Before they hung up (counting to three _twice _since neither one of them wanted to hang up first and Jax tried to cheat the first time) it had all been decided. Tara Knowles and Jackson Teller were both crashing events that they hadn't been invited to.

_"Jackson," _She whispered, shaking him lightly. Hours into his sleep, Jax didn't hear his name, nor did he feel the pressure on his shoulder. But when he felt the warmth of lips pressing against his cheek, a wide smile spread across his face. Immediately he turned over, arms reaching for her to pull her into him, to wrap her up in his arms—only to feel nothing.

Blue eyes popping open, Jax stared at the empty space on the other side of his bed. Confusion marred his features as her voice rang out again, this time falling on ears that were no longer deaf from a deep slumber.

_"Jackson," _Gemma repeated. Jax sat up in bed fast, pulling his comforter up, damn near covering his chin—a deep blush from annoyance and embarrassment tinting his cheeks as he made sure his mother couldn't physically tell what he'd been dreaming about when she crept into his room and kissed her son on his cheek. Gemma smiled wryly at him. "I refuse to fight with you over that girl or the fact that you were probably with her—"

"Mom—"

Gemma held her hand up, smiling wider. "I'm not doing it," she stressed. "It's your birthday. I get to spend the day spoiling my baby boy, showing him how much I love him…reminding everyone else just how much of a _spoiled,_ ungrateful fuckin brat you are."

Jax smirked. "So basically my birthday is really _your _day."

Standing up from the edge of his bed where she sat, Gemma kissed his forehead. "_Happy sixteenth birthday, Baby."_

"Thanks, Ma."

Gemma reached over, quickly yanking the comforter off his legs before he could stop her—laughing when he scowled at her. "Get dressed," she directed. "Breakfast is almost ready. Ope' and Piney should be here any minute and I doubt they want a peep show. It's not like it's _their _birthdays," she joked, shaking her head at her sons boxers, the only thing he was currently wearing.

* * *

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"Happy birthday, _Prince,_" Wendy said, smiling as she quickly licked the whip cream off her finger before Gemma could see that she'd snuck a strawberry out of the bowl of toppings when she went upstairs to wake the birthday boy. "I got you a present."

"Oh yeah?" Jax walked over towards, managing to half-hug her and steal two glazed strawberries from the bowl on the counter next to her. "What you get me?"

Wendy smirked. "You'll see."

Jax rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I bet."

The doorbell rang.

"_Coming!_" Gemma announced from the floor above them. She might have made it down the first two steps, but no more than that. Jax was already at the front door, swinging it open before her leather-booted foot touched the living room carpet.

If it were possible, his smile would have stretched wider than the doorway he stood in the middle of as he pulled her in for a hug, syrupy, strawberry-sweetness lingering on her lips as he kissed her. "Hey, Babe. I thought maybe you overslept." Jax smirked, lowering his voice before adding, "..._I did kinda wear you out last night..._"

"I'm surprised I _didn't_ oversleep," Tara teased, shoving him in the chest. "_Someone _woke me up _twice _just because he was _bored."_

Jax shrugged. "I tried counting sheep," he joked. "Kept picturing Wendy's hair for some reason."

"I heard that_, asshole_," Wendy commented from the wall she leaned against on the other end of the living room.

Jax smirked, leaning towards Tara to whisper, "_She knows her hair looks like a sheep's ass most of the time."_

Tara giggled, her eyes widening slightly as she glanced over his shoulder at Wendy. "Not today it doesn't," she commented, appraising the silky, bone-straight dirty blonde locks framing the light make-up tinting Wendy's face. "You look….._hot_."

_"I thought you said she wasn't into girls," _someone whispered behind them. Jax was the only one who heard it. Turning around to glance out on his porch, he finally noticed the other two people that had arrived shortly after Tara.

Opie rolled his eyes. "You done trying to eat Tara's face off?" he grumbled. He nodded towards the blonde standing next to him. "Me and Chaz wouldn't mind getting some actual _food__."_

Jax smirked. "You and_ Chaz, _huh?"

Opie scowled, shoving him aside before, gesturing for Chastity to walk in before him. "Donna's on her way here now," he announced. "She'll probably be here any minute. You better not stir shit up with her just to fuck with me or I swear to God I'll give you all sixteen birthday punches in your _face."_

"Actually, Ope," Tara commented, wincing. "I think the fact that umm….that s_he's _even here is enough to—"

"_Chastity_," Chastity provided, holding her hand out to Tara with a wide smile on her face. "You can call me _Chaz _if you want to though."

"You certainly have a type," Tara mused, opting to accept her handshake unlike the time she'd stared blankly at Donna's extended hand the first time they were introduced. "I saw you at the bar the other day. You're—"

"Deputy Palmer's cousin," Chastity said, nodding. "Yeah, I remember you, too."

"I guess I'm the only one that _remembers _we're here to eat," Opie grumbled, walking past all of them to disappear into the kitchen. "_Hey, Gemma_," Opie said as he walked past the matriarch who was all but invisible the teenagers standing in her doorway.

"Oh, Hey!" Chastity said, waving over at the glaring mother. "Good morning, Mrs. Teller! Didn't see you there."

"Hi, sweetheart," Gemma answered, scowling as Tara turned to glance in her direction.

"Hi, Gemma," Tara said. Jax looked up at his mother, shaking his head before turning his back to her when she continued glaring instead of responding.

"You might want to work on your technique, Darlin," Jax joked, nodding towards the corner his best friend disappeared behind. "No way, Ope should be _that _damn grouchy." Tara punched him in his arm, scowling, but all he did was laugh. "That's _one. _You get fifteen more."

"_My_ first one's about to be for your nose," Chastity warned, narrowing her eyes at him.

Tara giggled. "Let me know when you're ready," she told her. "Jackson's overdue for a bloody nose….especially from a girl."

"I have a feeling you're right," Chastity agreed, smiling.

"Don't worry," Tara promised. "I'll keep him in line. And the next smart comment out of his mouth, I'll even help Opie hold him down for you."

_"Who's _holding_ Opie?"_

Everyone turned their heads towards the short, raven-haired girl with one hand on her hip as she looked Chastity Palmer up and down.

"No one is," Tara corrected quickly. "I was just telling Chas—"

"Hey, Tinkerbelle," Jax teased.

Donna shoved the wrapped gift in her hand into Jax's arm, ignoring him otherwise. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Chastity rolled her eyes. "I was _invited,_" she answered. Then she turned on her heel, winking at Tara before sashaying towards the kitchen to find Opie.

"_You_ invited her?" Donna questioned, scowling at Jax.

Jax shook his head, pulling Tara in close enough to kiss her neck. "The only girl I invited is the one standing next to me." Tara elbowed him in his side. "Owww! What the Hell you attacking me for? She asked a question, I answered it. Why am I in trouble?"

"Any other time you're all about that bro-code bullshit," Tara snapped.

Jax's eyebrows rose. "So you want me to _lie?"_

"I'd settle for just keeping your mouth shut instead of adding fuel to the fire," Tara huffed as they watched Donna storm into the dining room, yanking a chair out before folding her arms across her chest as she sat down.

Jax smirked, kissing her scowling mouth before she could move away. "What if I _want _to add fuel? It's my _birthday, _Babe. And my best friend's being an asshole to me for no reason. He won't tell me why he's pissed either. So maybe annoying the Hell out of him will get him to stop doing the hot and cold shit _you _usually do to me and just spit out whatever it is."

Tara leaned into him, whispering in his ear. _"You remember that thing I promised to do to you when you come over later? _Keep it up and you can figure out how to do it to _yourself."_

"You two going to wait until the food is cold?" Gemma griped, stepping towards them. "Come inside and shut the damn door. I'll have Wendy set up another place for Tara…_since you invited her."_

"She can have Piney's place," Opie commented as him, Wendy and a very helpful guest Chastity carried the platters of breakfast food over to the dining room table. "Pop's not coming. Said he had Club shit to handle…._Can you move over one?" _Everyone watched as Donna went from wide eyes of disbelief to eyes narrowed to slits as she reluctantly moved over one chair so that Chastity could sit on his right side, with Opie in between two of them instead of in the corner chair between her and Gemma at the head of the table.

"Looks like Opie already has his _own_ fuel to burn," Jax commented, stealing one last kiss before curling an arm around Tara's waist, walking with her towards the dining room. He stopped at the end of the table opposite his mother's chair, where his father usually sat. Resting his hand against the back of it briefly, the contemplation didn't go unnoticed by the two women who loved him. Gemma opened her mouth to encourage him, Tara placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning in to whisper in his ear again but in the end neither one of them needed to say anything. Jax moved past the chair, stopping in front of the one in the corner, to the right of it. It was the chair he sat in, next to his father, to the right of him from the time when he was younger. It was where he'd always glance directly across the table at his brothers—Thomas when he was alive, and Opie when they lost him. Pulling the chair next to it back, he ushered Tara forward, pushing it in towards the table before sitting down next to her.

If it were any other girl, his mother would have been impressed. Unwavering pride would have been in place of the look of annoyance and disgust on Gemma Teller's face as she watched her son make his girlfriend's plate for her. Asking her how much of each food she wanted before spooning it onto her plate, completely oblivious to the begrudging smile on his best friend Opie's face, the whipping motion Wendy was making in the corner that Donna was laughing at or the way Chastity was biting her lip as she stared at the green-eyed brunette sitting next to him.

"You sure that's enough?" Jax asked.

Tara nodded. "Thank you," she said, reaching for the plate in his hand. "Wow. This looks like something out of a five star restaurant. Your mom really does this for you every year?"

"His _mom _is sitting right here," Gemma snarked. "You can address _her."_

Jax rolled his eyes. "Maybe she _would _if you didn't ignore her when she _tries,_" he told her. "Or call her a _gash. _Or try to choke—"

"_Jackson." _Jax turned towards Tara, blue eyes softening immediately. "You forget what I said?"

_She didn't betray ME._

_She doesn't hate ME._

_My mother _loves _me…._

_Blah, blah, blah….that doesn't mean she gets to be a bitch when you're bending over fuckin backwards to be nice to her….for _ME.

"Okay, Babe." Jax lifted his own plate to fill it up with food. He was reaching for a third slice of French toast when the doorbell rang again. He looked over at his mother, forcing kindness into his tone when he said, "I'll get it, Mom. You don't have to." Rising to stand with her, he sighed when she kept walking around the table anyway. "Mom—"

"How about this?" Wendy said, sprinting towards the open threshold leading into the living room. "I'll answer the door so neither one of you wins."

"I second that," Tara said, giggling at Wendy's teasing expression.

"Why doesn't _she _get it," Donna commented, glaring at Chastity. "Seems like she likes making herself at home where she doesn't _belong. _She might as well—"

"Don't _start,_ Donna," Opie growled, glaring at her. "I'm not your _property._ And she can make herself at home if she wants to. I invited _her _not you. I _mentioned_ it to you and you invited yourself."

"You saying you don't want me here?" Donna challenged.

"It's like Déjà vu today," Tara commented.

"I feel like I'm getting dinner _and _a movie," Chastity joked. "You know…but with _breakfast _instead."

Tara giggled, shaking her head as she watched Gemma disappear into the living room, using the teenage drama distraction to get her way. She was already at the front door before Jax or Wendy noticed she'd left.

"I didn't_ say_ that," Opie argued.

"Then what the Hell are you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm done dealing with all the jealous rage _bullshit," _Opie snapped. "Me and _Chaz _are friends now. She was here while _Marcus _was helping you _cool off. _And I'm not ditching her just because you have a problem with her being here."

"Tara is _one _thing—"

"And you can add Chastity to the list," Opie cut in. "Now that's _two _things. Deal with it, Donna. I don't_ want_ you to leave but I swear to God, I'm not chasing after your ass either. _Enough_ already!"

Chastity cocked an eyebrow at him. "You didn't tell—"

"No, I _didn't_," Opie snapped. "And I'm not going to. It shouldn't even have to come to that!"

Chastity held her hands up. "Ohhh-Kay..._.Hulk-a-leese_"

Tara snorted, half-choking on the piece of waffle in her mouth. "I thought I was the only one that said that!"

"You _are _the only one that calls me that stupid shit," Opie grumbled, rolling her eyes. "I'm the one who told her about it."

"Better watch out, Tara," Donna hissed, her nostrils flaring as she speared the slice of ham on the platter in front of her with the serving fork much like everyone in the room was sure she felt like doing to Opie's neck. "Sounds like Opie's looking for a _new_ best friend. Seems to be moving fast, too."

"I thought she was your sister," Chastity said, nodding towards Tara as she sucked the whip cream off of the strawberry in her hand.

Donna slammed her cup down, scowling. "You told_ her?!"_

"Told her what?" Opie blinked twice, before his eyes ballooned as he stared at an equally outraged Donna. "Are you out of your goddamn mind? Of course I didn't t—_why would you even bring that up right now?"_

"Bring _what_ up?" Tara and Jax asked at the same time.

Tara giggled when they both immediately banged their knuckles against the table, shouting, "Knock on wood!" in unison as well.

"I swear I'm losing my appetite," Gemma muttered as she walked past the cheesing couple, bumping Tara's newly-recovered arm as she made her way towards the kitchen. "_Sit anywhere you want!"_

Everyone looked towards the entryway for the person Gemma had been directing.

"Hey, you," Wendy said, patting the chair next to her as she smiled at Lowell Junior. "Gemma heard you sneaking out last night you know. All that dancing you did at the Hale's party I thought you'd be a little lighter on your feet."

Lowell blushed, looking over at a smirking Jax. "Happy Birthday," he mumbled, holding out the gift bag in his hand before walking over to sit next to the teasing blonde on the other side of the table. Sitting down, Lowell looked up, a sheepish expression on his face as Gemma set a plate, and napkin with a fork, spoon and knife in front of him. "Uh…Gem—Mrs. Teller—"

"Gemma's _fine, _LJ," Gemma corrected, rolling her eyes as she walked toward her chair. "I keep telling you that. Maybe after sixteen years it'll sink in."

"Right." Lowell scratched his head. "I was wondering if maybe you could….I mean I wouldn't ask, except—"

"Just spit it out, Junior," Gemma told him, just as the doorbell rang again.

"Well, umm…he was kinda my ride here and he wanted me to ask—well I _told _him I'd ask if—"

Jax took off towards the door, forgetting to let go of Tara's hand as he rushed to answer it before his mother could. Tara giggled as she trailed behind him, knowing he was doing it more to annoy the Hell out of his mother than to be helpful.

Jax swung the door open, the mirth in his eyes dying—a murderous glare taking its place as he stared at the young, handsome guy standing out on his front porch. "What the fuck are _you_ doing here?"

Tara eyes narrowed in confusion. "_Joshua?"_

"Hey, _Tare." _Joshua smiled at her, lingering on the dip in her V-neck shirt where her necklace dangled just long enough for the angry sixteen year old next to her to clench his fists before looking over at him. "Happy Birthday, _Joseph. _My cousin invited me as a plus one to your gathering. Hope you don't mind."

Tara cleared her throat, tucking her hair behind her ear. "He'd probably mind a little _less _if you got his name right. It's Jackson...You said _LJ _invited you here?"

"He mentioned his cousin last night when he came over," Gemma lied, commenting from behind them. Her earlier scowl was gone, a calculating smile that never boded well for anyone it was directed at taking its place. "I think its real nice of him to be carting Lowell back and forth all around town just to see his girlfriend—"

"I'M NOT HIS GIRLFRIEND!" Wendy shouted from the dining room. "NO _LABELS, YO!"_

Her words were followed by the laughter—from everyone _but _Jackson Teller.

"Oh wow," Gemma gushed, reaching for the bag Joshua was still holding out to her son. "He might not remember your name, but he didn't forget to get you a _gift_...What did _you _get him, Tara?"

"My _virginity," _Tara snapped, dropping any pretense of playing nice the second she realized what Gemma was up to. Coughing sounded from the dining room, choking laughter mixed in with it. "It's all wrapped up nicely with a bow and everything," she lied, happy no one knew about what they'd been up to last night but them. "I might be tempted to drag him upstairs to his room and give it to him right now! _Sixteen _times if he can last that long."

If Jackson hadn't been so busy glaring a hole into Joshua Kohn's face he would have gladly pointed out that he could surpass the number of years since he'd been born if she let him instead of kicking her out to go home to _mommy. _

Tara was so sure that Gemma would bite—that she would flip out and give her the excuse she needed to leave, taking the sixteen year old she had to _force _to come home in the first place right with her.

But Gemma didn't bite—she left the bait right on the hook, dangling at the surface of the lake. Instead of scowling, Gemma smiled.

She smiled at the young man standing on her porch, smiling at Tara—gazing at her son's girlfriend with envy and longing on his face that had Jax all but foaming at the mouth. "Come on inside," the matriarch urged, waving him forward. "I'll set a place for you at the table. You can sit right across from _Tara."_

"Let's just go, Jax," Tara whispered as they disappeared into the dining room. "I already have something planned for you anyway. We can go do JT's therapy session early and then—"

"No," Jax interrupted, shaking his head. There was a threatening gleam in his eyes as he smiled at her. "This is _my _birthday breakfast. And it's like you said, Babe. You're not the only one that wants to spend time with me today. Even your _tutor _wants to join the party. Besides….I think it's time we put that little misunderstanding we had at the mall to rest, don't you think? Can't have the guy helping my girl stay smart thinking I want to _kick him in his fuckin throat, _can I?"

"_Breakfast is getting cold!_" Gemma shouted from the dining room, over the clinking of plates and glasses.

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**THOUGHTS?** Favorite moments? Feedback, people! Give me a holler about all your opinions of my handiwork. I always go back and read the reviews you post and re-read the parts of the chapters you comment on when I'm in need of a spark for a new chapter so keep that in mind. Talk to me, peeps!

**[ 11 **THOUSAND**, 300 words**]

**|REVIEW|**


	71. Chapter 64

**A/N: **Enjoy. Then _REVIEW._

**FYI: **My version of "FUN TOWN" is a Hell of a lot more _fun _so you can go ahead and swipe the shitty carnival you saw on the show from your mind. Think...Disney World...Six Flags...something in that neck of the woods :-)

**RANDOM NOTE:** I notice that with a lot of the fanfics on here, author's usually just continue whatever the arc is into the next chapter if it's not finished. I could actually update faster if I did that because I usually write either a whole **section **or a half-section every day (I force myself to write a minimum **4K **words/**two hours **everyday even it's nonsense I end up deleting for this Fic or my original work). That might make it _seem _like it takes longer to get into newer arcs because I'm just posting as I go. Would you guys be cool with that? Or would you prefer I stick to wracking up jumbo-sized chapters (7-12 sections) even though they take longer to post? Let me know **after **you write your feedback on this sample of what I'm talking about. I don't want to write an essay here, so message me if you're confused about what I'm asking.

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

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It was a full table, in a manner of speaking. They were all there, huddled around him. One man sat in the reclining chair next to his bed, one sitting on the arm of it. Another sat at the foot of his bed, while two others sat in the love seat that had been pulled away from the wall next to the window of his private hospital room. It wasn't the Chapel at Club Reaper, not by a longshot—but for the past few weeks they'd treated it as such.

"Jackson's birthday is today." JT's smile was wide, beaming with pride as his eyes touched on each of his SAMCRO brothers. "He's finally getting that Harley he's been begging for since he was four years old."

"Right on time, too." Kozik scowled. "I've got a birthday beat down with his name on it for stealing mine."

"Don't worry," Happy growled, nodding at him. "I'll hold the little asshole down for you."

JT cocked an eyebrow at him. "Jax stole your bike?"

"Jackie decided to show off," Padraic told him, chuckling. "Took little Grace on a joyride. Good on him, I think. I saw her in the hallway last night, coming from seeing Tig. Looked like she could use some cheering up."

"If cheering up is what she needed she should have stuck around to see Kozy ride off on that scooter," Chibs goaded, snickering when Kozik elbowed him off the arm of the chair he was sitting in. "I thought it was funny watching Jackie-boy ride around on that thing until I saw _this_ asshole riding next to us on it."'

"You ladies finished gossiping?" Piney grumbled. "I'm missing out on breakfast with—"

"You're not the only one missing out on things," JT interrupted, frowning at his best friend.

The temperature in the room dropped several degrees.

Piney smirked, shrugging his shoulders. "Whose fault is that, John? Because it sure as Hell ain't mine. The way I see it, you could have handled this shit with Gem—"

Kozik cleared his throat. "How about we get down to _club_ business? Save the family drama for later. We need to figure all this shit out before Clay gets back."

JT nodded. "Did he tell you why he left?"

Piney snorted. "Same bullshit line he always feeds us. Now that I think of it, it's a lot like the smoky truth _you've _been giving us. About all this shit you're _working _on for the club….how you'll bring everything to the table _when the time is right. _It's getting kind of hard to tell the difference between the man holding the gavel now and the one who used—"

"Chill the fuck out, Piney." Kozik shook his head. "We didn't come here for that."

"What _are _we here for?" Piney challenged. "We've been in here whispering for weeks now and that's all we're doing. I'm sick of sitting on my hands, watching this Cartel bullshit that _he"—_Piney flung his arm out pointing in JT's face—"Not Clay, _he _signed off on! We voted this shit in for _you! _We did it because you asked us to and now what? Our brothers are dying, that's what! Heads are rolling. SAMTAZ is down four members—"

"I _told _you why I needed to make this work," JT argued. "It was for the—"

"Good of your family?" Piney scowled. "What family? The one that's _dying _one brother at a time? Or do you mean the one that's having breakfast without you...celebrating _your _son's birthday without you there because you're scared of your wife and the asshole she's screwing behind—"

"Cut the bullshit, Piney," Kozik snapped. "This ain't about Jax or Gemma. You're just pissed because of the shit between you and _your _kid. We're not here for that either so you need reign it in. The only family we need to be focused on right now are the brothers sitting in this room."

"Yeah." Happy nodded, rage hardening his features even more. "The ones in this room _and_ the brother down the hall with the bullet hole in his ass."

JT and Piney nodded in silent agreement. They'd deal with their shit later, one on one with no one around to stop them from having it out the way they needed to.

JT nodded his head towards Kozik. "What the Hell happened yesterday?"

"Me and Tig went after that asshole that tried to kill you," Happy said before the blonde to the right of him could respond.

"Clay has a bad habit of giving orders outside of church," Kozik told him, glaring. "Special requests—"

"Which is why he should have never got the goddamn gavel in the first—"

"Shut the fuck up!" JT shouted, narrowing his eyes at Piney before turning back to Happy. "What are you talking about?"

"How long did you think you could keep us from putting the pieces together?" Piney interrupted again. "Clay's the reason your son almost killed the Prospect. Clay and Gemma have been spreading rumors about your _suicide _ever since you laid down your bike."

"I knew you wouldn't believe it," JT said.

"Of course not," Chibs agreed, nodding along with everyone. "But Jackie _did. _Your boys been twisted up—"

"Jackson is fine," JT told them. "We're good now..._He's _good now. And no matter what happens, my son is always going to be—"

"No matter what happens?" Kozik scowled. "You say that like this is some shit we need to figure out. The solution is simple."

Piney nodded, standing up. "And we already figured out the _problem _without you! All we needed was a little help from a couple of teenagers."

"Tara told me all about what she heard," JT said.

"But you already _knew,"_ Piney accused. "You knew about that Hobart shithead helping Clay, too. You knew about all of it….including the fact that _Lowell _had a hand in it. He's the one who pulled the trigger. That's why he showed at the hospital that night...high as shit, crying all over _your _son...telling him how _sorry _he was. Did you really think we wouldn't put two and two together? We know what happened wasn't attempted suicide."

"_Aye_." Chibs nodded. "But we know it wasn't really an _accident _either, brutha. _Wayyy_ too many coincidences."

"Every clue leads back to the man wearing _your _patch," Padraic added, glaring. "The patch _you_ gave up."

"And I'm still trying to figure out _why," _Piney said, tilting his head to squint his eyes at him. "You need to tell us what the Hell is going on, John. Because I'm beginning to feel like you don't trust us. Or maybe _Bobby _is the only one you trust. Maybe you don't know if the rest of us trust _you.._.maybe it's something else. I don't know what is, but you gotta tell us something. This half-answer, _I'll tell you when the time is right _bullshit isn't cutting it for me anymore. It's not cutting it for _any _of us."

"We're behind you, man," Happy growled. "We're with you one-hundred percent. And you know me, JT. I roll with the punches. I don't ask questions. But giving up your patch…..protecting the man that tried to kill you….none of this shit is making sense."

"All this cloak and dagger shit ain't necessary either," Kozik added. "We don't have to hide and whisper in corners when Clay's not around. I don't give a—"

"_This isn't about hiding._" JT's eyes touched on every puzzled, anxious, frustrated face surrounding him. "I'm not _afraid…._this isn't about _fear. _This is about not letting our pride get the people we love hurt. The people that _I_ love. Our brothers in other charters...in other _MC's_," JT looked over at Piney, "Our sons," before his eyes fell on Padraic, "….My _daughter…_."

"So it's true," Kozik mused, glancing over at Padraic. "The priest….his sister….she's…."

JT nodded. "Revenge doesn't mean shit to me," he told them. "All I care about is protecting my family. _All _of my family."

"How does _Clay _factor into that?" Piney challenged. "Even letting him _think _he's in charge is hurting a Hell of a lot more than its helping."

"This shit with the Cartel will be over soon," JT promised. "But it's not just the drugs…..it's everything we were doing before…everything that's been going on these past few years….all the violence….all the bloodshed….this MC's been headed in the wrong direction long before we shook hands with Romeo Parada. I have a handful of people I trust with my life and most of them of in this room. _I trust you. _I trust _all _of you. You're my brothers and I love you and I promise I'm going to get us out of all the shit that's killing us, that's putting our families at risk…._that includes running guns. _And I know I don't have to tell you what that means…that it won't be an easy transition._"_

"Easy is putting it lightly, brutha." Chibs shook his head. "The army's not gonna like that..._at all._"

"_Galen's _not going to like it," JT corrected. "Clay may not have SAMCRO but he has the IRA in his corner. SAMBEL is…..I can't get a read on McGee….I don't know if I can trust him…if _he _can trust the patches in his charter….I don't know if they'll be behind what I put in motion. If I don't navigate around this shit with the army…if I don't handle it the right way….Mo' and Trini…I _can't _risk it."

"They're still stateside," Padraic told him. "I can convince Kellan to let Mau—"

"That's a temporary fix." JT shook his head. "Kellan's not the only one with reach that goes beyond Belfast. He's put enough on the line for me already. He's been a loyal friend to the SOA from the start. I don't want any harm to come to him either."

"Is that why Bobby's been M.I.A?" Kozik wondered. "Piney's right. You gotta give us something, Prez."

JT nodded, but his expression remained neutral—undecipherable as it often was in times like these. "Bobby's headed back now," he told them. "Should be here in a few days. We'll discuss what he's been working on for the club when he gets here. Then you'll know everything I know. Is that good with you?"

JT's smile widened, the corners of his mouth curving up a little higher as he took in the nods of agreement from each of his brothers. That same smile faltered, disappearing as he touched on the grave expression on Piney Winstons face.

"Piney—"

"Lowell can't wait," Piney said. Several heads nodded in agreement, deepening the frown on John Teller's face. "We'll hear Bobby out, we're willing to wait for that. But this shit with Lowell has to be handled now. Those were Fed's in that cabin. ATF? FBI? Who knows, and it doesn't really matter. What Lowell did was bad enough. Now he's got the authorities involved. We don't need the specifics to know this is very bad for us."

"Fed's or no fed's," Happy barked. "I don't give a shit _who _that junkie rat ran to. I say we find this asshole and put him down…_yesterday."_

"It doesn't matter the reason, John," Piney told him. He was the only one speaking but the solemn expressions on all the faces around him made it clear that he wasn't alone in his opinion, in his assessment. "There's a lot of history between you and Lowell….between Lowell and this _Club. _And I know we need to focus on Clay…and the Cartel…and the IRA. Club business comes first. _We _know that. But Lowell _will _have to answer for what he did. For—"

"—what he tried to do to _our _President," Kozik finished. "We almost lost you, Bro. That debt gets settled."

"Yeah," Happy growled. "It really fuckin does!"

John Teller shook his head. "He was scared," he argued. "Twisted up...conflicted...I'm not justifying it...I'm not excusing it...but he did the same thing any one of us would do...he did the only thing he felt he could do to protect his family."

"We all have choices," Chibs responded. "And most of them aren't easy. We get that. But—"

"He made a choice," Padraic interjected. "And he knew there would be consequences."

"So what? You want to kill him?" JT's eyebrows rose. "I understand how you feel…_why _you feel that way but I'm not signing off—"

"We know you're not," Piney told him, smiling. "We never thought you would. Things is…we don't need an unanimous vote for _everything. _Mayhem won't land because you don't agree to it and that's fine…..because neither do I."

"I agree with it," Happy announced. "He tried to kill you. I say we kill _him. _Motherfuck trying. I _never _miss a target."

"If he dropped dead tomorrow I wouldn't shed a tear," Padraic declared. "I don't know _what _we should do to him. I just know he can't walk away clean from this."

"He's not _going _to," Piney declared. "Even at the head of the table your _one _vote can't beat out the votes of your _brothers. _If Bobby's on board that makes six _for it..._and only one _against."_

JT sighed. After a pregnant paused he offered them the nod of acceptance they were waiting for. But it was absent of a smile, it was without even an inkling of genuine agreement as he told them, "We figure out what to do about Lowell _after _we settle this shit with Clay. Until then," JT stared pointedly at Happy, "No more going _solo_," He cast a glance in Kozik's direction, "You need to keep Tig in line before he gets _himself _killed following orders from the wrong man. The Harland's are off limits until we _all _can agree with how to deal with his betrayal because make no mistake, compassion aside, that's _exactly _what it was. _No Mayhem_….no bloodshed. I don't give a shit what your _President _has to say about it either."

Piney rolled his eyes. "You get a chance to talk with your _coach?"_

JT smirked. "You mean Drill Sargent _Knowles?_" He nodded, laughing with everyone else. "Yeah. She clued me in. Didn't ask my permission for _shit, _but she was happy to hold her hand out and make demands…everything sounds good."

"Opie's getting his birthday present a little late," Piney admitted, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I hope you guys know that this shit with my son has nothing to do with me not wanting him to share a patch with us...with all of _you..._I just don't want him mixed up in—"

"We get it, brutha." Everyone nodded in agreement to JT's statement.

Happy smirked, finally cracking a rare smile. "Good luck convincing _Gemma _not to kill anyone," he warned. "She'll have you _and _that girl in her crosshairs when she finds out you ruined her birthday plans for the _Prince_."

"She'll be gunning for all of us," Kozik amended, smiling.

"Not _me." _Happy shook his head. Dark brown eyes ballooning, he pointed at his own chest. "I ain't got shit to do with any of this. You assholes are on your own."

Everyone laughed as JT cocked an eyebrow at him. "You're scared of my _wife?_"

_"We all_ are...I'm just the only one admitting it."

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"Oh my _God," _Tara exclaimed. She dropped her fork down in her plate, gesturing towards her chest with the hand Jax wasn't holding onto underneath the table. "My aunt does the _same _thing! She's even got my guidance counselor annoying the Hell out of me. They're always lecturing me about taking on too much at one time. Diane tried to get me to agree to a weekly allowance _and _offered to buy me a freakin car! It's like she doesn't realize I've been juggling work, school and everything else since I was ten. Back then I was just bagging groceries but it was still work. It's like she just doesn't get it."

"I hate to agree with your aunt, _Tare," _Joshua said, grinning. "But working part time on top of all the other chores you have probably won't be as easy now that you'll be taking _all _advance placement classes next semester. I know you're the smartest girl in town but I'd hate to see you stressed out. I tried the same thing my Junior year of high school and I ended up—"

"Tara's not _you_," Jax interrupted, sneering at him. "She's a _sophomore _taking college-level classes, classes you didn't take until you were _in _college. She can hande a full semester of AP classes _and _work part-time if she wants to. I don't even know why _you're _the one tutoring _her. _And her name is _TARA, _not _Tare. _And _Tar-Tar _is that nasty shit all over your _teeth."_

Wendy giggled, leaning forward to smile at an equally tickled Chastity. "I guess we caught the Matinee, huh? _Breakfast _and a movie, for real."

"Seriously, Bro," Lowell commented, glancing nervously between Jax and his cousin. "How many times does she have to correct you? She's already done it three times the past ten minutes alone."

"I think he has a problem with names in general," Donna commented, sipping from her glass. "He's been calling Jax _Joseph _since he got here."

"And how long have you been telling Jax to stop calling you _Tinkerbell?" _Tara challenged. "It's really not that big a deal," she said, waving her hand. She bumped shoulders with the boy next to her, but he was too busy glowering at the one across the table from them. So she decided to switch gears, looking over at Opie. "Why didn't you tell me about the bet between you and Jax? All this time I thought there was a mix up in the guidance office but now I know there wasn't. Jackson got into Honors Trig on his own. He proved it the other day. Helped me with this _bitch _of an equation the other day. He'd probably be in Honors English, too if he would stop playing stupid. _You, _too."

"It seems like you're into the whole devil-may-care, school is for fools thing," Chastity joked, winking at her. "I totally failed _all_ my classes last semester by the way. I also got suspended for breaking someones nose. I'm very bad ass…and I cut class….like _all _the time." Opie started choking on his food. Or laughing. It could have been the latter, but Chastity went with the former as she reached over to rub his back. "You okay there, _Harry?"_

"He's fine!" Donna snapped, knocking her hand off his back.

"These fried apples are _divine_," Joshua said. He made a show of rolling his eyes back as he brought the next spoonful to his lips, making sure he savored, he _mhmmm_'ed for every second it took to suck the spoon dry. Licking his lips, he smiled at the woman sitting at the head of the table. "Family recipe?"

Tara's eyebrows rose as she looked down at her plate. "Are they really that good?"

Joshua looked over at her, blue-grey eyes locked on her lips as he nodded, a thirsty smile breaking out on his face as he told her, "_Mouthwatering."_

"Is it getting _hot_ in here?" Wendy cracked. "_Oww!"_ The teasing blonde turned to frown at the boy sitting beside her—the one that had kicked her underneath the table. Wagging her finger at Lowell, she feigned a scowl as she whispered (loud enough for everyone to hear), "_and you wonder why I won't commit to you. Abusive boyfriends are a no-no."_

Tara cleared her throat. Reaching towards the platter of fried apples she said, "I think I'll take a little bit. Just to try—"

"_Here_, Babe." Jax gently grabbed the arm reaching out, gripping her wrist to pull it back. Turning towards him, she smiled as he brought a spoonful of the apples from his plate to her mouth, feeding it to her.

"You're right," Tara agreed, turning to grin at Joshua. "That _is _good!"

"It's not_ good,_ Babe." Jax reached for her, angling her face towards him. Pressing a palm to her cheek as he leaned in to brush his mouth against hers. Lightly at first. It was just enough to get a taste of the cinnamon, the fried apple glaze making the corners of her mouth, the bows of her lips sticky. When he was done enjoying how well the two flavors mixed, his tongue plunged deep into her mouth as his hand made its way to the back of her head, fingers threading in her hair as he savored the taste of his _favorite _flavor. "It's _divine," _Jax corrected, pulling back just enough for their noses to touch. His earlier scowl was nowhere to be found as he drank in the deep blush flooding her cheeks. Tara was looking at him as if all the other people sitting at the table with them (clearing their throats loudly—or _glaring_ in Gemma's case) weren't there, didn't matter at all. Jax brushed the pad of his thumb against the corner of her bottom lip, flashing Tara his signature panty-dropping smile as he sucked the sticky, glaze-covered finger into his mouth. "That _is _mouthwatering."

"So," Chastity smacked her lips. "Are you opening presents now or are you waiting until your party?"

Lowell shrugged. "Mine is just a Harley manual," he said. "Wendy picked it out."

Jax cocked an eyebrow at the blonde rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. "Is that the present you were talking about?" He teased. "You're gonna have to rethink that whole _no-labels _thing if you're doing that cheap ass, joint-gift bullshit."

Wendy smirked. "That's not my present, Teller."

"I'd prefer it if you _opened _my present," Donna declared, shaking her head at Lowell as she pulled a neatly wrapped, rectangular box from the purse hanging from the back of her chair. She slid it over towards him. "You want to unwrap it now or later? I think you should wait until later. It'll go perfect with your other—"

"Finish that sentence and he's going to know what you got him _without _you telling him," Opie commented dryly. "I'm still waiting on _my _birthday present. And just so you know, a framed picture of you on that jock assholes lap at the diner—"

"I thought we were letting that go," Donna said through her teeth.

"There's this thing," Wendy mumbled. "It's called _makeup sex. _You two are overdue for a session….or _ten."_

"I got him riding gloves," Tara blurted out, eyeing Donna suspiciously.

"Aww man!" Donna groaned. "That's what _I _got him!"

Tara snickered. "Just kidding," she said, laughing harder when Donna glared at her.

"What did you really get him?" Wendy asked. Before Tara could respond, she held her hand up. "You know what? It doesn't even matter what it is. I'm willing to bet you fifty bucks Jax will like _my_ gift better."

Why was everything a contest or a bet with this chick?

Gemma perked up for the first time since she sat down, a wide smile brightening her eyes. "I didn't know you got him something! I could have _helped_ you pick out a gift if you told me you wanted to—"

"I got it covered, Boss Lady." Wendy winked, a lopsided grin twisting her face to one side as she clicked her tongued. Rising out of her chair slightly, she leaned over the table, pulling the red, gift-wrap bow off of Donna's gift. Tara flinched, but jerked her back too soon. Wendy slapped the bow onto her face before looking over at Jax. "_Happy Birthday," _she said, grinning.

"My birthday's coming up in two months," Chastity commented. "I want the same thing you got him."

Jax's eyes widened, darting over towards his best friend.

Opie "choking" on the mouthful of pancake confirmed that he not only heard but _understood _correctly. The brunette sitting next to him was too busy narrowing her eyes as Wendy pulled a disposable Kodak camera seemingly out of thin air to snap a picture of her with the bow plastered on her forehead. Clearing his throat, a wry smile spread across the young Teller's face as he threw an arm over Tara's shoulder. Kissing her cheek, he nodded his head up at the playful challenge in Chastity's eyes. "Sorry, Darlin," he drawled. "This is a limited edition right here. One of a kind, and out-of-stock…._forever."_

"Go ahead, Donna," Wendy jeered, wriggling her eyebrows. "Ask him if he wants to unwrap it now or later. I _dare _you."

"I don't understand," Johua said, his eyes unblinking. Everyone turned their heads to look at him. But his eyes were on Tara only.

"You're preaching to the fuckin choir," Gemma grumbled, stabbing her fork into a sausage link hard enough to chip the ceramic dish it was on.

"It's a joke, Dude," Wendy said, patting him on his rigid shoulder. "We can't actually give _people _as gifts. Not in this country anyway. But just so we're clear, if I _could _give Tara as a—"

"She'd be counting out fifty dollars to you right now," Jax said, chuckling when Tara snatched the bow off her head, slapping it hard onto his mouth. "Uh-oh, I think you offended," Jax looked directly at Joshua, his eyes narrowing, "my _girlfriend."_

"_Girlfriend." _Joshua blinked hard twice. "You two are _dating?_"

Chastity leaned over to gape at him. "The fact that he just finished eating her face didn't give it a way?"

Wendy snickered. "Looks like your misery has company…it's _Chaz, _right?_"_

Chastity's eyes widened, all her pearly-white teeth show as she smiled at her. "Caught on, have you?"

Wendy smirked. "Apparently I'm the only one," she answered, glancing at the annoyed expression on Donna's face, and the look of confusion on Tara's. "Well...me and _Jackson. _I see what you're doing, Ope," she said, tossing him an extremely dramatic wink, open-mouthed and all.

"I'm still hoping I have a shot," Chastity joked, smiling coyly at the green-eyed brunette with her eyebrows threaded together.

Wendy shrugged. "You might," she teased. "Tara does like 'em _pretty."_

Tara turned to look at Jax. "You have any idea what the Hell they're talking about?"

"Yeah, asshole." Jax's expression darkened, her words not even a blip on his radar. "Girlfriend. Don't forget the _MY _part. _MINE._"

"Jesus Christ, Jax." Donna shook her head, twisting her fork into the scrambled eggs on her plate. "Do you have to act like a caveman every time another guy smiles at her? You don't own her, you know."

"You got that right," Tara agreed, frowning at the blue-eyed boy sitting next to her.

Orange juice sprayed from Opie's mouth, followed by laughter that everyone (even Gemma) joined in on as he turned to raise his eyebrows at the raven-haired girl sitting next to him. "You think you can take your own advice, _Pebbles?"_

"Wrong Flinstone, Dude," Chastity amended. "Your girl is definitely _Bamm-Bamm."_

"Actually, Bamm-Bamm was the boy," Lowell corrected. "And he's actually a _Rubble. _Pebbles is the_"—_Lowell stopped talking abruptly, his face turning red when Wendy made a _whooshing _sound, waving a hand over the top of his head—a gesture that had everyone laughing again. "_Oh…._right."

Grinning begrudgingly at the blonde on the other end of the table, Gemma took advantage of the first moment she felt she could actually address the group without all the teenage drama (or Tara) getting in the way. "Luann and the girls should be on their way over here now," she explained, looking over at her son. "_Wendy's _sticking around to help out, too. You picked a bad day to be on Kozy's shit list, Baby. The Club's taking you out to your grandfather's old place to play paintball. He'll have Happy gunning for you, too. At least Tig being out will give you a fighting chance but I still think you should wear extra layers underneath your gear. Piney and _both _the Scotsmen laughed at Kozik the whole ride back to the clubhouse on that scooter you stuck him with. He's gonna shoot your nuts off, and I'm gonna want a few grandsons eventually...when you find the _right_ girl...your future Old Lady."

Jax smirked, grinning at his mother for the first time since Tara arrived. "How many times do I have to prove that _I'm _a better shot," he boasted, sticking out his chest. "The army wouldn't have discharged _me…_or _Ope," _he added, nodding over at his partner-in-crime since the sandbox.

Neither one of them noticed, but Tara breathed a sigh of relief when Opie actually returned his smile, nodding up at him in agreement saying, "_Damn right. _We can do two against four and we'll _still _murdered those assholes!"

Tara's teeth dug into her bottom lip, green eyes darting nervously between the three of them—the twin expressions of eagerness and excitement on Jax and Opie's face, and the look of amusement and maternal joy exuding from Gemma as she listened to her son and his best friend argue back and forth about who they were _allowing _to be on their team since the absence of Tig meant split the teams an even three on each side. Finally, Donna tore her eyes away, being the first to notice and comment on the confliction shining in her eyes.

"What's wrong, Tara?" Donna asked. Immediately, all eyes were on her, piercing blue ones in particular.

No one even noticed when Joshua got up and walked from the room, nor did they hear him mumble about needing "to use the bathroom," before disappearing upstairs.

Clearing her throat, Tara tucked her hair behind her ear. "Nothing," she answered, her voice small. "It's just that when I ran into Kozik last night, he mentioned that him and the guys had important club business to handle, so—"

"_What the Hell do you know about club business?" _Gemma snapped, cutting her off with a glare that matched the bite in her tone of voice.

Jax didn't bother turning to scowl at his mother. Instead he cocked his head to one side, squinting his eyes at the girl sitting next to him. "What is it?"

Tara managed a hint of a smile, even if it was nervous. "I volunteered to keep you company for the day," she told him. "Kozik liked my suggestion for how to keep you busy until your party at the clubhouse tonight. That's what we were talking about when you….well anyway, I had an idea for what we could all do today. I thought it would be more fun than paintball but you and Opie sound so excited about it—"

"That's because they _are _excited," Gemma growled, interrupting again. "What the Hell do _you _have planned? _Mani-pedi's? _Or knocking back shots with your drunk Daddy?"

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**There you have it.** TWO out of the NINE sections left for Jax's birthday. (Yes, there's more sexy times, and flirty times, and Padraic-Diane times and of course a Maury-worthy, _when it comes to [**blank] **year old [**blank] **Teller, **Johnathan Teller, **you [**blank] **the father!" moment._

_I promise to fill in the blanks (if you leave a review with all your thoughts) _=)


	72. Chapter 65

**A/N: **For all the back and forth drama and angst I put you through. For all the drama that's about to pop off, one event after another throwing one HELL of a wrench into **J&amp;T**'s _Honeymoon Phase_ when it does...I_ present to you, _**this **_chapter._

**P.S: **Site's been acting up again so if it won't let you post your review the reg way you can just P/M your feedback or post on the wall on facebook [slash] VeritableOldLadyCrow. Hopefully this chapters loads for everyone.

**-Veritable Old Lady Crow**

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"That was fast." Diane drew a large, red circle around the word _prestigious, _tapping her pen against the desk as she scanned the puzzle for the next hidden word on the list. "Don't tell me the fax machine jammed up again."

_"I wouldn't know anything about that."_

Diane looked up, wide eyes from initial surprise narrowing to slits as she took in a familiar, wholly unwelcomed sight. "Am I under arrest?"

June stahl shook her head, smiling. Taking several steps forward, she made herself at home on the narrow desk along the wall at the entrance of the tiny back office of St. Thomas' fourth floor Nurses station. "Not at the moment."

Diane's eyes flitted down towards the manila envelope, the thick, brown folder in the leering ATF agent's hand. "Am I being subpoenaed?" The agent shook her head again, the toothless, pursed-lip smile on her face spreading further. Nodding stiffly once, Diane returned her eyes to the puzzle on the desk in front of her. "Good," she said, "Then get out of my face, Bitch."

"These past few months I've been working a case—"

"You're _always _working a case," Diane interrupted, sneering. "You'd be better off working a corner. Cops like you don't get shit done without being dirty, which is why _dirty, _corrupt cops like you don't deserves badges like the one on your hip. I don't know what you want and I really don't give a shit. Stay the fuck away from me."

June Stahl let out a low whistle, smile twisted to one side as her eyebrows rose. "You've been gone a long time," she commented. "It's nice to see you still remember your role. Gemma always did train them well. I'm sure she'll have her son's girlfriend in training soon enough. I think you know her. Tara _Knowles? _I wouldn't go so far as to presume she's your _family. _You know….given how busy her mother was back in the day. You do still consider her your niece right? Even though—"

"What do you want, June?" Diane asked, glaring.

Stahl's eyes popped open. "We're on a first name basis now, are we? That's _good_. I remember yours too, Diane. I remember everything about you. Things is…after you took off, it was kind of out of sight out of my mind. Lucky for me, a mutual friend of ours reminded me just how important you are."

_"Barbara Harland._" Diane smirked, happy to see genuine surprise flash across the Agent's face. "Everyone in this hospital knows what she did to Gemma Teller. Barb and her husband must be mixed up in some shit with SAMCRO. I guess it is lucky for you. Or at least it _was. _You're a fuckin vulture. All of you ATF pricks are, and you're the biggest. You saw a desperate woman, looking for a way to get her family out, someone willing to do anything, even risk her career…and that same woman pointed you to _me. _I don't know what she told you or how much she _didn't _tell you, but I do know it won't make a difference. Not where I'm concerned."

"Maybe not," Stahl replied. "But you do know _something. _Something that can help her. You Old ladies gotta stick together, don't you?"

Diane spun the rolling chair she sat in all the way around. "I'm nobody's fuckin Old lady," she snapped. Raising her hand high, she flashed the Princess cut diamond ring, the golden wedding band above it on her finger. "I'm married. I'm somebody's _wife. _You know damn well I don't have any ties to that club anymore. I haven't for years. I have had _years _to roll on them and I never said a word to anyone. Even if there _was _something to tell...what the Hell makes you think I would talk now?"

Stahl shrugged, smile unwavering. "Barbara's in real trouble," she told her. "Her life's in danger. You can help me protect her, help me take care of the guys who want to hurt her family. This isn't just about me or my case. And even if it was, is that really what matters most to you? You don't think doing anything to help your friend is—"

"You mean the friend that _snitched _on me?" Diane challenged. "The one that sent you straight _to _me? _That _friend? You got a funny definition of the word."

"You said it yourself," Stahl argued. "She's a desperate woman. Women do desperate things for their family."

"I have my own family to think about," Diane stated. "I don't owe her anything. Not anymore."

"Which family are you talking about, Diane?" Stahl's voice was gratingly singsong. "Are we talking about little miss Tara and her drunk daddy? Or do you mean you, your husband, and his secret love child?"

Diane smirked. "Are we done here?"

"Why'd you come back here?" Stahl asked. "I know it wasn't to play mommy to your niece. You didn't give a shit about her before, not enough to stick around anyway."

"My brother's sick," Diane told her. "Needs a liver transplant. We have an agreement. I'm making sure he honors that agreement first. As soon as he's back on his feet, I'm gone. In the wind, just like before. Is that enough information for you?"

"Donating your liver." Stahl's condescending nod of approve elicited an eye roll, but nothing more from the young woman twisting back and forth in the chair in front of her. "Now _there's _the sweetheart I remember," the crafty agent continued. "You were always such a giving person. So much…._compassion. _It's a shame that after all SAMCRO put you through theirs no compassion left for the woman who drained her savings account and gave you enough money to make ends meet own your own when you fled town...when you ran away from the same club that's terrorizing _her _family now."

"I paid every cent of that money back to her." Diane reached over, sliding the phone on the computer desk closer to her, one freshly manicure hand gripping the receiver. "That debt was settled a long time ago. I don't know how many ways I can tell you that I don't owe her a _goddamn _thing. You know what, June? I'd really hate to have to call security on you, but you've already used up too much of my time and I'd like to enjoy the rest of my break. _Stop harassing me. _I'm not helping you with shit."

"You and your Old man...the _Scott_," Stahl taunted. "You two are _legendary _around here. I'm surprised Unser doesn't have a special cell with your names engraved in the wall. All those arrests….drunk and disorderly….sex in public…aggravated assault that time you caught him with his pants down…when he smashed the windshield of your car….when you shot the wheels on his Harley for—"

"I don't need a recap, Darlin." Diane winked at her, a wry smile brightening her eyes up for the first time since she'd arrived. "I was _there."_

"I wonder how _loyal _he'll be to the club—"

Diane held up a finger. "Let me stop you right there," she interrupted. "This is the part where you bluff about getting Padraic to turn on the club, right? It's not going to happen. We both know that. So save your breath. You had it right when you first walked your bony ass in here. Gemma trained me _well. _I can spot bullshit a mile off and you're full of it. That's all you suits _ever _have to offer. I'm unmoved, I'm not scared, I'm not curious, I'm not desperate. I'm _vaccinated. _And I'm sure there's enough of _my _history with them in those folders in your hand to tell you that I don't give a shit what happens to any of them."

"Not even Padraic?" Stahl challenged. A knowing smile upturned the corners of her smirking mouth when Diane's eyes narrowed, any trace of her triumphant smile vanished. "He's not the one that burned you, is he? Sure, he fucked around behind your back but that's the outlaw way, isn't it? You telling me you have no love for the man whose name is still on your chest? How does your husband feel about that, by the way? _I'm _curious. How does it make him feel to know that you're the _property _of another man every time he takes your shirt off?"

"My husband knows all about my past," Diane huffed. "There are no secrets between us so if that's your next angle I'd say you're having a pretty shitty week on the job, sweetheart."

"His parents knew about it, too." Stahl tugged at the clips of the orange envelope in her hand, pulling several papers out, cold grey eyes scanning the pages for information she'd clearly known by heart before she came. "Had an old friend of the family, _Keith Mars _do a background check on you all the way down to what color your onesie was when your mother brought you home for the first time. I'd bet money that's the reason for this iron-clad prenuptial agreement in my hand right now. Says here, in the event of a divorce you'll be leaving with exactly what you came with and not a penny more."

"I was happy to sign it," Diane admitted, shrugging. "I didn't marry him for his money."

Stahl sat the papers down on the desk beside her, crossing her legs, hands folded into a tent on her lap. Her grin was smug, the glint in her eyes calculated, sharp. She was a serpent finally ready to make her strike. "Jake Kane is a self-made millionaire," the agent stated. "He built his company from the ground up with the help of his lovely wife Celeste. It makes sense that they would need assurances in writing. A way to guarantee that all you wanted from their son was his love and devotion. I guess I'm just a little surprised their son _Duncan _asked you to sign it."

"He _didn't_," Diane declared. "I signed it for them."

Stahl nodded. "I guess the fact that you're already a millionaire wasn't assuring enough for them, huh?" Picking the paper back up, her eyes darted up and down the page—searching. "It's funny, there's no addendum here protecting you from having to split _your _millions with him. Why is that?" Looking up, the triumphant agent smacked her lips, eyes twinkling with mirth as she watched all the color drain from Diane Knowles face. "I guess Keith Mars isn't as good of a P.I as they think, hmm? Or maybe _you _paid him to leave certain things out of his report. Is that how it worked? Does your husband know about all the _millions _of dollars in your bank account? Does Duncan know about the private settlement out of court? I _wonder, _does anyone in this town know you're the reason _Charming Med _is now _St. Thomas?"_

Diane's jaw clenched, nostrils flaring with a quiet rage that was loud and clear even through the measured, restricted tone of her voice. "I want you leave…._right now."_

"A botched abortion…" June Stahl clucked her tongue. "As if you hadn't been through so much already...had to be rough...almost dying only to wake up to more bad news. My old partner went through the same thing. _Kids…" _Stahl wrinkled her nose. "I never wanted them, but it was _all _Rachel could talk about. One specialist after another, she never gave up no matter how many people told her it would never happen. She finally found this hotshot in New York. Double-board certified miracle worker. Thanks to her I've got a new partner now. Rachel's happy to stay home with her twins. Check this out, she actually named one of them after her Doc. I thought they only did shit like that in movies. Well anyway, I guess _Addison _is an okay name for a—"

"_Did you not _hear _me?" _Diane growled, jumping up from her chair, kicking it backwards into the row of file cabinets behind her. "I said GET OUT!"

"I've upset you," Stahl surmised. The sudden softness in her voice, the empathy in her expression was more unnerving than the gloating smile she'd worn before. "I know you'll find this hard to believe but that really wasn't my intention. I don't_ want _to involve you in this. You've already been through enough and despite our past interactions I'm not the black-hearted bitch you think I am. I'm not as _independent _as you think I am either. At the end of the day I'm just another desperate woman. My boss is breathing down my neck to find something concrete and make it stick. I'm not out to get you. I'm gunning for the same people who hurt you all those years ago. I was hoping you'd be willing to help—"

"Well I'm _not," _Diane hissed through her teeth.

Stahl nodded once, slid off the table, standing up with her briefcase worth of paperwork in her hand. "That's unfortunate, Mrs. Telf—sorry, _Kane," _she said. "Because if you're not willing to cooperate I'll have to—"

_"Is everything okay in here?" _Duncan pushed past the agent lingering near the doorway, not waiting for a response before standing beside her, curving an arm around Diane's waist as he turned piercing blue eyes on the woman with the badge. "Who are you?"

"I'm an old friend," Stahl answered, stepping back towards the doorway. She cast Diane one final glance. "It was either _you…._or it's _Telford. _I really hope for your sake that choosing the hard way works out in the end. It didn't end well for the last woman who chose this route."

Diane's scowl was unflinching, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "_I'm smarter than Mary Winston."_

Stahl curled her hand around the doorknob. "Let's hope so," were her parting words before she lightly shut the door behind her.

"Talk to me, Dee," Duncan urged the second the door snapped shut. Spinning around, she flung her arms around him, burying her face in his chest as the anguished cry she'd been holding at bay finally tore through her. "What's happening?"

_"Everything I was afraid of," _Diane cried. "He wasn't even supposed to be here. If I knew...I wouldn't..._shit..._that ruthless _bitch _is going to ruin everything.'

Duncan pulled back just enough to see her face, to frame it in his hands, to brush his thumbs through the stream of tears staining her face. "Whatever it is, I'll fix it, I promise. You just have to tell me—"

Diane shook her head, the most painful of smiles denting her cheeks. "Not you, Duncan," she told him. "I have to tell _Padraic. _I have to get to him before the Feds do. I have to make him understand, make sure he's thinking clearly. If I don't….people are going to get hurt."

Duncan's mouth was a grim line. She could see the effort it took for his eyes to remain locked with hers, what it challenge it was to keep those piercing blue gems from flitted towards her left breast, where his tattooed remained. "You mean him," Duncan amended. "You mean _he's _going to get hurt."

"They will _kill _him," Diane told him. "I know what they're capable of. I saw it...I _felt _it...I _cannot _let that happen. You have to understand, Baby. He never did anything wrong. He's blameless. He doesn't deserve to...and if I didn't really believe that I would have never..."

_"You would have never left him."_

Diane swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. "_Please _understand," she begged. "I _need _you….I need you to—"

"Okay." Duncan pulled her into him, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "_Shh…shh…shhh…._it's okay….we'll figure it out…." He ran the tips of his fingers through her hair as she cried. Up and down, his hand patted, blue eyes fixed on the gold wedding band on his ring finger the whole while.

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It wasn't the swoop in her belly, or the wind whipping her hair all around her face. And it wasn't the thirty foot drop either. It was the sixteen-year old boy sitting in the car next to her that had Tara Knowles squeezing her eyes shut against the ringing in her eardrum when he screamed. _"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" _Tara's eyes popped open, ballooning just as the camera flashed. Looking down, his hand remained right where she'd felt it, visual proof of what had brought her out of her 'lights out' moment when the roller-coaster finally reached the top of its final adrenaline-pumping descent. She quickly slapped it away, shaking her head at him with a scowl as the roller-coaster's train eased into the return station where everyone else stood waiting for them. "Sorry, Babe." Jax offered her a shrug, a cheeky grin and a hearty chuckle when she smacked his arm away, stepping out of the car without his help despite the hand he'd held out for her. "It was a reaction," he lied. "A reflex. I got scared."

Tara scoffed. "And grabbing my breasts helped with that?" she challenged. "You know they take a picture at the end right?"

"I'm pretty sure he was counting on it," Chastity commented, giggling when Tara turned to glare.

"I feel like I'm going to be sick," Donna groaned, holding her stomach.

"Losing the necklace your father bought you would do that to a Daddy's girl like you," Wendy teased. Everyone laughed with when Donna gasped, the fear in her eyes as she quickly glanced down at her chest morphing into anger when she realized that if Wendy wanted to _physically _yank her chain she could…because it was still there. She hadn't really lost it on the ride. "Just kidding."

"I told you not to eat all that damn funnel cake," Opie teased her. "We just finished eating a five course breakfast. Keep it up, Donna and that ass won't always be so _cute_."

Chasity's gaze flitted down towards the ass in question. "_That would be a shame,_" she mumbled.

"_Hey!" _Opie snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Get your own!"

"You're not buying that picture," Tara declared, glaring at her boyfriend. "I'm not kidding."

"Of course I'm not," Jax promised. He draped his arm over her shoulder, kissed her neck as they made their way towards the exit gate. "I was just having fun," he said, holding his free arm and the twenty dollar bill in the hand connected to it behind his back where Lowell could reach for it without Tara seeing. Leaning his head back, blue eyes flitted towards the blonde walking side by side with him, holding his hand before they left Wendy (who was too busy joking with Chastity to realize her and Lowell were doing something that _couples _do) to stare pointedly at Lowell as he mouthed the words, "_T-shirt, too!" _

Lowell nodded, coming to stop at the roller-coaster's souvenir booth.

"Hi again," the extra-cheerful Fun Town worker said, smiling. "Did you change your mind about the picture?"

Lowell smiled timidly. "Not exactly," he answered. "I'm actually buying for a friend….a _surprise _for his girlfriend."

"No problem," the clerk said. "Did they get on before or after you? Better yet, can you see their picture up on any of the screens right now?"

"Sure can." Lowell nodded. "Tara didn't blacken my eyes yet."

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"This shit is _so _fuckin cheesy," Jax said, rolling his eyes as Tara pulled him forward.

"Aw, shut it! You got to pick the last two rides." Tara turned her head, narrowing her eyes at the boy palming her ass. "Really, Jax?"

Jax shrugged, smirking. "I'm making sure you don't fall," he lied, squeezing her through the denim of her shorts as she stepped up onto the carousel. Jax sighed as she circled the platform, green eyes scanning all the pretty, painted horses and sleighs as if she needed to find the perfect one. "We're getting on the freefall next. And in case you need reminding, it's _my _birthday, Tara. I _should _be able to pick all the rides."

"Oh yeah?" Tara spun around to face him, flashed him a saucy smile as the ride started to move. Raising an eyebrow at him, she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, lifting her leg high slowly. They weren't alone on the merry-go-round although it sure as Hell felt that way. Goddamn it, there were kids around, parents riding with them. Jax was pretty sure Tara was making them uncomfortable. Not nearly as fuckin uncomfortable as the sudden tightness of the jeans he was wearing, but he didn't blame grandpa at all for adjusting his glasses, or the mom that slapped her husband's arm until his hungry gaze flitted elsewhere. Jax couldn't look away, his eyes were glued to her as Tara slowly draped her leg over the painted horse beside her, as she gripped the metal pole, twirling her body up and around until the brown-and-white tinted pony was sliding up and down between the softness of her thighs. He was pretty sure the twist in her hips for every time the horse veered upward was all her doing. That shit had nothing to do with the carousel. _"That's too bad, _Jackson." Jax swallowed hard, blue eyes darkening as he watched her let go of the pole, pressing the palms of her hands on the tops of her knees. The way her hips were moving now, he knew for sure that it wasn't the ride doing that. "I had a few other _rides _I wanted to take you on, but hey…it's your party, Baby. _ Your _choice."

_You're gonna ride me just like that fuckin pony….THAT'S my choice._

He didn't mutter the words accidently, he didn't say them out loud at all. Jax didn't even have to speak. Tara could see everything he was thinking. It was written all over the face inching closer to hers, it was embedded in the toe-curling kiss he planted on her lips, the way his tongue tangled with hers for the duration of the ride—and the several moments after before they finally noticed the ride operators standing behind him, tapping his shoulder.

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"_Thank you, Baby_." Donna smiled up at Opie, the first genuine one since she'd been forced to carpool with Wendy, Lowell, and her I'm-not-so-sure-he's-my-boyfriend-again in his new best friend Chastity's Escalade while Tara and Jax threatened the lives of everyone on the highway as they traveled alone, several cars ahead of them. No one could tell exactly _what _Tara was doing to Jax from where she sat in the front passenger seat but whatever it was made him swerve in and out of the lane several times before a chorus of loud horns honking (including theirs) convinced her to keep her hands to herself.

"You're welcome," Opie said, flashing a challenging grin at his best friend as he handed over the large, stuffed panda in his hand to the raven-haired girl beaming at him. "Beat _that, _asshole!"

Opie's smile was replaced by a scowl when Jax did just what he dared, winning Tara the largest prize they had. _"RAWWWR!" _Tara giggled as he gave her the jumbo-sized Siberian tiger, switching it to one arm so it was out of the way when she kissed him. "You know I'm not carrying it for you, right?" Jax teased, knowing he'd end up doing it anyway.

"Can you at least hold it until after I win you one?" Tara said, grinning at him. "It's supposed to be _your _birthday."

_But we already decided what _my _gift was..._

Jax's eyebrow rose, a playful smile lighting up his face. "Track star _and _you shoot hoops, too? I didn't realize my girl was such an athlete."

As it turned out she wasn't.

Tara only made three shots out of twelve, a fact that had Opie cracking up laughing as him, Chastity, and even Donna (who seemed mighty pleased that Opie gave _her _the prize he won) made fun of how focused and determined the green-eyed brunette's expression was—as well as the string of curse words (SHIT! _Aw, fuck! _GODDAMN IT!), that flew past her lips every time the basketball bounced off the rim.

"One more round?" The gamekeeper asked, smoothing the white-and black striped shirt he was wearing down where it wrinkled when the last ball she threw somehow managed to hit him.

Tara pulled a five dollar bill from her pocket, handing it over to the guy.

"Another five dollars down the drain," Donna teased. "You're gonna be here all day, Jax. Good luck with that. _Come on, Opie. _I want to get on the carousel!"

Opie rolled his eyes. "I hope you're talking about the tall one with the swings because I'm not riding on no damn horse."

"You could always sit in the sleigh," Chastity teased, spinning around as she walked past him. She tugged his beard, winking at a scowling Donna as she poked his stomach with her other hand. "See ya, _Santa! _I'm going to see where Wendy. Chick is pretty cool."

Opie cocked an eyebrow at her as she skipped off. "THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT BY GET YOUR OWN! SHE HAS A _PUPPY!"_

Donna scowl morphed into a look of confusion. "Okay seriously, you've been friends for five minutes. What the Hell is up with all the inside jokes and nicknames? And what does Wendy having a puppy have to do with anything?"

Opie chuckled. "We getting on the carousel or not?" He bent his arm at the elbow, pulling her along when she slid hers inside the gap. "We can sit in the sleigh if you want, Pebbles..._Freefall's next...and the haunted house...and _then..."

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"Come here, Babe." Jax stepped forward, pulling her back against him as he reached in front of her, gripping her hands as she held the basketball. "Let me show you how to—" Tara threw the ball, cursing when it once again, hit the rim before bouncing off to the floor. "Guess who just discovered something else you're bad at? I think this might be worse than the singing."

Tara elbowed his chest, knocking him back. "Fuck this shit," she said, narrowing her eyes at the hoop. "I'm about to win this granny style! _Aye, __Coach! _That throw didn't count! He grabbed my hand!" Taking several steps back, Tara bent her knees, squatting down low. Turning her palms upward, she sprung up, straightening her legs as she flung the ball into the air, smiling when it went in. It went in the second time, too. And every time after that until she reached the final throw. That was when Jax stepped forward again, that was when he wrapped his arms around her waist, when she felt him pressing against her. That was when he whispered huskily in her ear, suggesting a position for something no God-fearing _granny _would approve of as he gripped her hips. Her breath hitched as he rubbed himself against her ass when he squatted down with her, behind her, chuckling in her ear when he had to remind her she was supposed to throw the ball.

Tara missed the last shot, but she eleven out of twelve still won her the biggest prize. Her smile was proud as she handed Jax the large, stuffed lion the gamekeeper awarded her. "_Rwarrr," _she hissed, lobbing the giant paw at his face.

Jax chuckled. "It's a lion," he teased, subtly adjusting his jeans lest he scar a few innocent kids walking by. "Not a kitten. What the Hell kind of sound was _that?"_

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"I want to take pictures at that photo parlor where they give you costumes to wear and stuff," Tara commented as they walked through the park. "I want something to add to my photo album."

Jax cocked an eyebrow, smiling. "You have a photo album?"

Tara's eyes left his, a deep blush setting into her cheeks as he looked away. "I do now," she answered. "Umm...well I kinda wanted to start one, you know? I mean now that I actually have friends again….and a _boyfriend…._memories I don't actually want to forget…"

"Say the word and we can go back and get that picture of me holding onto them sweater puppies peeking out of your shirt," Jax joked, winking at her.

It was just what she needed to meet his eyes, just what he needed so he could get lost in them again—even if they were narrowed at him for the moment. "You really think I'm stupid?" Tara smirked. "Wendy vetoed her photo with Lowell. I know you made him buy ours for you when I wasn't looking. What did you get?"

Jax laughed. "I told him to get the package," he confessed. "Two photos, a Poster, and a refrigerator magnet. You can have one of the photos or the poster, whichever one you want. I think I'll give the magnet to Gemma. Should be a nice reminder how much fun we had _without _her since she can't stop being a—"

"_You know what I want?_" Tara leaned in closer to him, her breath tickling his ear as they slowed the pace of their walking. "I want to go back to the car, put these prizes in the trunk…..and hangout in the backseat for a little while…."

Jax quickly forgot about his rant. Grabbing her hand, he raised it to scrutinize the faded neon green stamp on the back of it. "You think they'll let us back in?" _If we make it back._

Tara smirked. "Do you even care?"

"Nope." Jax shook his head. "I just want to make sure we get our money's worth."

"We will," Tara promised. "We'll put the prizes in the car and come back..._after. _You promised to get on the Ferris wheel with me. And there's a promise I've been meaning to break ever since I made it years ago."

Jax smiled, curiosity shining in his eyes. "What promise was that?"

"It was a vow actually," Tara told him. "_I," _Tara whispered, dropping the stuffed tiger in her arms, bunching the collar of his shirt up in her fists, "_Tara Grace…._Lady Tee _Knowles….swear to never ever hold hands with Jackson Teller at Fun town," _She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, grazing it with her teeth as she pulled back slowly, "_Or kiss him…..," _She wrapped her arms around his neck, green eyes flitting back and forth, drinking in the passion beaming back at her in the crystal blue, "…._and I will never love him."_

"I'll never _stop_ loving you, Tara." Jax whispered against her lips, nipping them slowly, teasing her barely before giving in to his want, the unquenchable need to taste her, to get lost in the strawberry-flavored lip gloss he hoped she'd never stop wearing.

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"ARE YOU FUCKIN KIDDING ME?"

"What's happening?" Maize asked, peering over at the girl sitting in the driver's side of the convertible.

Ima pulled a hand off the steering wheel to hold it up to her face. "Real nice, Wendy," she hissed into the cellphone at her ear. "You didn't think you should let us know his party was cancelled _before _we went to get our hair and nails done? We were parked outside the gates for half an hour before we finally realized no one was letting us into the lot because no one was at the _clubhouse! _And what the Hell is all that noise in the background, anyway? _Sounds _like a party to me…you're full of SHIT! Since when do you give a fuck about that bitch? You just want Jax all to yourself but guess _what? _You're not the only one that hates sharing him. You _and _Tara need to learn your roles. Jackson Teller is community property, Darlin. Until he chooses the girl he wants wearing his crow, he's fair game. That little yammy of yours isn't going to cut it and I doubt that frigid little—"

"WATCH OUT!" Maize screamed. She reached over, jerking the steering wheel to the right when Ima's need to check herself out in the rearview mirror coupled with her erratic driving had her life flashing before her eyes—flashing brighter than the headlights of the car driving in the opposite direction in the adjacent lane.

Ima's cellphone flew out of her hand, flying out the window at the car bumped its way into a ditch on the highway.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?" Maize snapped.

"Chill the fuck out," Ima growled, kicking her car door the rest of the way open to climb out. "_My _car is the one in the middle of a fuckin ditch, not _yours!"_

"You almost killed us!" Maize screamed. "Fuck _you! _You almost killed ME!"

"Too bad I didn't," Ima sneered. "One less chick for me to worry about."

Maize drew her fist back, crushing her knuckles against the nose that had finally started to heal after the damage Donna Lewis had done to it. Seconds later, both girls were tumbling in the grass, weeds sticking to their Brazilian blowouts as they wrestled, kneed, scratched and bit at each other.

"Aye!" Two pairs of strong arms pulled them apart. Laughter was the soundtrack, the theme music as the two muscled Hispanic men stood between them, smiling. "If you ladies wanna fight, I got a boxing ring in my basement. A _pole, _too if you had something else in mind."

"Get off me," Maize growled, knocking the taller man's arm off her shoulder. "Shows over, assholes." She glared over at Ima. "Just call your Dad so he can pick us up."

"My Dad's not here," Ima told her. "Parents are out of town again."

Maize rolled her eyes. "You expect me to call my mom, so she can be an even bigger bitch? She's already lecturing me about my behavior in school. How _poorly _it reflects on her as a teacher. Don't you have triple AA?"

Ima rolled her eyes. "Unless you're gonna blow the agent, a ride home's not including, stupid."

Maize peered up at the two bikes parked at the side of the road up ahead. "You stopped for us," she said to the guy who was closest to her. "Might as well make yourselves useful."

"We stopped to check if you were _dead," _He answered, nodding towards the Convertible. "That's a nice ride you got there. We can make more than a few bills we brought that back to the chop shot. It's not like your Daddy's won't buy you another one. You rich white girls could probably buy a car all by yourself with your weekly allowance if you weren't so busy snorting it up your nose, getting high to help you forget all about Papi screwing the Nanny."

Ima scoffed. "Somebody's been watching too much—"

"Hey, _Tony," _Maize interrupted, nodding towards the guy who seemed to be the Alpha. "You guys gonna give us a ride or what?"

"My names _Salazar," _the smug man corrected. "And I'm sorry, Blanca, but me and my crew. We're not as philanthropic as your stepford mama. We don't do charity."

"Rich Daddy remember?" Maize rolled her eyes. "She has money."

"I do," Ima mumbled to herself. "...and you ain't hear _me _offer _shit."_

Salazar looked her up and down. It was a liquid slow perusal of every inch of her body, all the skin exposed from the navel peeking from under her crop top to shorts that barely covered her panty line. "What if we don't want your money?"

"Yo, _Sal," _the guy standing next to him said as he snapped the cellphone in his hand shut. "Manny just texted me. Guess what? That Teller asshole's birthday is today."

Salazar scowled. "What the fuck do I care, _Kique?" _

"He's sixteen now," Enrique explained, raising his eyebrows. "He's probably already out on the road with his new Harley. Little bird's finally leaving the nest. He'll be on his own more now. He'll probably have that Wendy bitch with him, too."

"Jackson Teller?" Ima questioned, ears perking up at the mention of her backstabbing friend Wendy.

"Yeah." Salazar nodded. "He a friend of yours?"

"Not anymore," Ima lied. "What's your beef with the Prince?"

"That asshole—"

"Cayate!" Enrique shouted. "The Hell is wrong with you, Homes? We don't know either one of these bitches."

"Maybe not," Ima hedged. "But I know _Jax…._I could probably help you out."

"He did some fucked up shit to my cousin," Salazar replied. "Been waiting for an opportunity to show him why he shouldn't do that again."

Enrique shook his head at the smile spreading across his friend's face. "Your funeral, man," he said, frowning. "We ain't even officially patched over and you're gonna get yourself killed."

Ima nodded. "And I'm guessing it's not the easiest thing getting to the Prince of SAMCRO…..or that _Wendy bitch..._"

"My President's got a business relationship with—"

"AYE!"

"Let's just say we got a lot of maneuvering," Salazar amended. "….a'lotta red tape, que no?"

"You so goddamn eager to settle the score you're gonna fuck everything up, man."

"Maybe you could be creative," Ima suggested. "You want to get to Jax without causing problems for your….your _President…_just go after who he cares about. Someone SAMCRO won't give two shits about Wendy getting—"

"_You see that?"_ Salazar pursed his lips at his cousin. "Even Chinky-eyes here thinks we should take care of that Wendy bitch. She's the reason that little asshole came aft—"

"Not _Wendy," _Maize corrected, finally joining in on the party once she caught on to her cheer-mates game. "I heard about what happened to that Spanish dude Jax put in the hospital. I'm guessing that your cousin. Wendy's real tight with the Prince so I guess fuckin with her _did _piss him off. But if you _really _want to get to him, that's not the way to do it."

Salazar raised his shoulders, eyebrows bunching up. "Don't leave us on suspect, Mami."

"It's in suspense, stup—"

"SHUT UP!" Salazar yelled at his Calavarez Patch brother.

"You should give us a ride," Maize purred. "...I might even show you what street she lives on."

"Who?" Enrique and Salazar asked in unison.

Ima and Maize were a duet of their own. _"Tara," _they answered.

"Tara Knowles," Maize clarified. "….he'll lose his _mind _if you go anywhere near her."

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"I talked to my father."

Tara tilted her head back, the cool breeze hitting her right cheek as she pulled away from the nook between his shoulder and neck to meet his eyes. "Yeah?"

Jax nodded, staring down at their joined hands in his lap. "I asked him what he meant, and he told me_…_..He doesn't want the club to be my whole life. I was born into SAMCRO… ...and he's my father, the man who founded it….he created my whole existence….as long as I'm a part of him, the club is, too. That's never going to change even if we both wanted it to. I don't….JT doesn't either….but he doesn't want the family I choose for myself one day to come second…and he doesn't want the way the club is now to ruin my life. In and out of jail….blood on my hands…_my _blood on someone else's….he isn't willing to risk that anymore. You were right, Babe. I knew it back then, too even if I didn't want to cop to it...a twelve year old isn't supposed to know how to shoot a gun...or have one at all. "

Tara smiled. "I guess your Old man got his thirty day chip, too," she mused. "He finally sobered up."

Jax might have resented the triumphant smile on her face just a little bit if she didn't look so damn pretty with her eyes sparkling the way they were. Way up high, the Sun penetrated through all the shades of green, illuminating the tiny flecks of golden-brown. "He's got plans, Tara," Jax explained. "When my dad first started the club it was more of Harley commune...Hippie shit more than anything. It wasn't about violence, they weren't supposed to need guns or brass rings. It was about social rebellion. He found a group of men that felt the same way him and his best friend felt when they came back home after serving their country only to realize that they people they risked their lives for didn't give a shit about them. It was about _freedom…_giving all the rules of society the finger….saying _fuck you _to all the men who thought the spotless uniforms they wore, the badges on their chest were worth more than the uniforms they came back home wearing...with all the blood and sweat and tears they put into making it safe for them to walk streets _wearing _those uniforms…and the badges…and those _suits_. The Sons of Anarchy was about brotherhood. That's _all _it was about when he first started it. And if things go the way he plans, pretty soon SAMCRO really _will _be just a bunch of motorcycle enthusiasts."

Tara nodded, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. It was still at war with the frown of uncertainty she was forcing down. Still she voiced the words at the forefront of her mind even as she aimed to bring comfort, to keep him at ease with the dimples denting her cheeks. "That sounds good, Jax," she said. "But….but what if it doesn't? What if things don't according to plan?"

Jax shrugged, head shaking slightly as he flashed her a grin laced with his own dose of comfort, with a promise he knew she needed to hear. "If it doesn't work out he wants me as far away from the mayhem as possible."

Tara's frown finally broke through. "Gemma won't like that."

"JT doesn't give a shit," Jax declared. "I can't believe I ever doubted that he….it's just that for a long time I thought the only son he really cared about was the one he lost. I kept waiting for the day when he'd ride off…when he'd kiss my mom goodbye on his way out the door to go on a run….to Nevada….or Florida... Chicago…or _Belfast _and never come back. I hated feeling like he didn't love me….and I _hate _that your father ever made you feel that way….I hate that I haven't always been there for you like you've always been for me when I _let _you. When Tommy died…..I was too caught up in my own pain to realize you still needed me just as much as I needed you. I blamed you when you had every right not to trust me...to walk away when you did. Tara…I don't even know how...or why you—"

Tara crushed her lips against his, pulling back only when she was satisfied that he'd lose any desire to finish his sentence. She didn't need to hear the rest of it. She already had her answer without it. _"Because I love you," _she said, smiling. "That's why. I love you..._even when I hate you._"

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Jax held a hand out to her, his other flying to her waist as he helped her out of the Ferris wheel's carriage. He climbed down the steps, walking out of the exit gate to see their friends huddled together, sitting underneath an umbrella at one of the dozen round picnic tables on the other side of the crowd of patrons passing through. Chastity was talking to Donna, probably something about her hair if the handful of raven locks in her grasp was any indication. Opie's arms were wrapped around her as Donna sat in his lap—he was laughing, probably at Lowell when Wendy smacked his hand away to stop him from eating the last deep-fried pickle in the basket between them.

"Thank you God," Tara gushed, smiling as she watched Donna turned to plant a kiss on Opie's lips. It quick, no more than a second or two before she turned her back to him to resume her conversation with the girl she probably wanted to stab with the fork in her hand at breakfast several hours earlier. "I like Chastity. It would have sucked if I had to hold Donna's purse while she kicked her ass."

"You know she likes you, too right?" Jax teased. "I mean she _really_ likes you."

"Ha, ha."

"Wow," Jax exclaimed. "I didn't realize I had such an effect on you, Knowles. It's like you can't see anyone _but _me."

"Nice to see your ego is still in good shape."

"I'm serious, Babe." Jax shook his head at her. "It's like you can't tell when someone else is into you…._or maybe you're just playing dumb."_

Tara winked. "You should try it sometime, Teller."

"I _knew _it." Jax scowled. "You _know _that douche bag—"

"Why is every guy who isn't you that likes me a _douche bag?"_

"You know he's got a hard on for you," Jax accused. "He was flirting with you right in front of my face and you still kept yacking and yacking. Smiling and flirting right back."

Tara rolled her eyes. "I was _talking _to him. About _science _and _math…_shit that doesn't concern Jackson Teller. I wasn't calling him _Darlin _or telling him he needs to _work on his technique." _Tara giggled at incredulous look he shot her. "Yeah that's right, Jax. You finally gave me a chance to use _your _words against you. You flirt with _every _girl you see. Every _single _one that bats their eyelashes at you. I guess it's okay for _you _to get mad when someone shows interest in me but when the shoes on the other foot I'm supposed to just brush it off because it's harmless….you're just _being friendly."_

Jax sighed. "Can we go back to talking about Opie's new friend Chasity? And how she wants to do the dance with no pants with my girlfriend?"

"_Girlfriend._" Tara smirked. "If I played a drinking game and took a shot for every time you said that word at breakfast alone I'd give my _drunk daddy _a run for his—"

A chorus of footsteps pounded, making them both turn their heads—just in time to see Opie charging towards them. Donna was his shadow, trailing behind him. Lowell and the others sprinting after them seconds later went completely unnoticed. Jax was entirely focused on sixteen year old with a cellphone glued to his ear as he paced back and forth in front of him.

"JAX!" Opie shouted as if he were talking to his best friend from a busy freeway. "We gotta go brother, like right now!"

"Relax," Wendy said. "Gemma's already pissed off. It won't matter if we show up at the clubhouse a little l—"

Jax scrunched his eyebrows together, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry. The alarm in Opie's normally laidback expression made his blood run cold. He'd zeroed in on the horrified expression on Donna's face, too. He squeezed Tara's hand as she quickly laced her fingers with his, letting him know she was there even though he wasn't looking at her to confirm it. "What the Hell happened, Ope?" He wasn't answering. Not fast enough. He was too busy fumbling with the keys on his cell phone again. "You're scaring the shit out of me, Ope. Talk to me. What the Hell is going on?"

"Why won't he _pick up_ the _goddamn_ phone?!" Opie screamed. Tara flinched with everyone else as he abruptly snapped the prepaid phone shut, launching it at the concrete, kicking at the shattered pieces. "SHIT!"

"OPIE!" Jax yelled, finally losing his patience.

Opie's eyes snapped towards him. Jax watched him blink twice before he spun on his heel and took off running.

He didn't stop until they reached the parking lot. Snatching the keys dangling from the keychain on Chasity's hip, he unlocked the car, sliding into the passenger. It was only as she twisted them into the ignition that he seemed to finally notice the chorus of voices yelling at him, asking him questions, the group of teenagers imploring him with their eyes to tell them what the Hell was going on. Opie looked at Tara. "It's _Pop," _he said, his voice flat. "I don't know what happened. Chib's phone must have died..._we gotta get to the hospital now.__"_

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**FEEDBACK! Let me know what you thought. Favorite moments? scenes? Lines? Can't wait to read them! I get twice as excited to read reviews as you guys do new fanfic chapters! Love you guys!**

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**FYI: **I rearranged the sections and took some out so the next chapters has to be organized &amp; edited more than written lol. Might add a scene or two if it makes sense. Otherwise I'll try to get to that by next weekend hopefully.


	73. Chapter 66

**A/N: **This _should _conclude Prince Teller's birthday. I'm honestly too lazy to write the other two sections so I'll have to figure out how to include those scenes in a later chapter #LazyZone

**FYI: **I'll admit I'm not a die hard fan like I was the first few seasons but I'm sure you can tell what one of my former favorite MUST SEE TV dramas was lol. _UnemployedBee_ knows what I mean ;-)

**P.S: **This update is for those that weighed in on Facebook. I literally dozed off and woke up to the msgs in my phone LOL. &amp; now I'm editing out the obvious grammar ish now. Hope it reads alright without the other sections.

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

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_"HAPPPY BIRTHDAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY—"_

"_—You little shithead!" _Kozik added. The crowd applauded as shock flashed in the blue eyes gaping at them in surprise. Most of them laughed when Jax abruptly spun around, stumbling into the door when Opie slid out of dodge before the fist he aimed towards him could land.

"You're an _asshole," _Jax hissed, glaring at him.

Opie chuckled, nodding at something over his shoulder. "Don't get mad at me," he said, snickering. "_Tara _asked me to do it."

Jax turned to face her, noting the slight guilt in her smile. "I didn't tell him to get all dramatic," Tara explained, half-shrugged. "I wanted you to be surprised. I didn't tell him to make you think that someone got hurt."

Opie scoffed. "How the Hell else was I supposed to sell this whole _trip to the hospital _shit?"

"That was fucked up, Opie," Donna complained, punching him in his arm. "You really scared us. You want to scare him? _Fine. _Next time clue _me _in!"

Tara stepped towards Jax, wringing her hands as she eyed him coyly. "Are you mad?"

"Depends," Jax told her, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "_Am I still getting what I want for my birthday?"_

Tara giggled. "_Yes,_ Jackson," she promised, rolling her eyes.

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"You can pull rank all you want." Stahl put her car in park, rolling the windows up before twisting the keys out of the ignition. "I already spoke to my _real _boss," she told him, reaching for the case files in the front passenger seat. "This is still Stockton's jurisdiction. I get final approval on any deal being made. You're nothing but a shadow. A way of my boss proving that we have nothing to hide. You're a glorified baby sitter. _I'm_ the one calling the shots," she declared, slamming her car door shut. "No…._No, I'm done listening you,_" Stahl interrupted, cutting Agent Robert Kohn's latest rant of assertion short. "You need to listen to _me. _Padraic Telford and Diane Knowles. I'll fax you their files within the hour. They are our _in. _And if everything goes according to plan, we _might _be able to give your sister some kind of plea deal, knock the attempted murder charge she could be facing down to aggravated assault. First time offender, she should be—_No, she tried to shoot Gemma Teller up with enough crank to kill a horse._ In the D.A's eyes that's murder, Pal! The only reason _you_ don't see it that way is because your little sister is the one on the hook. And don't take comfort in this whole no-witness bullshit either. That's what survelliance cameras are for. We have it on tape…..Well, that's my point _Sir…_you already showed your hand. _You're _the one with something to lose here. And she has _everything _to lose. If she doesn't cooperate….if she doesn't read into the record _everything _in the statement I prepared for her….her husband get shivved in federal prison while he awaits trial for the attempted murder of a MC President is going to be the least of her problems….._yeah, yeah, yeah…._do what you have to do. Meanwhile I'll be bringing Telford for questioning first thing tomorrow morning…..yeah okay…._We'll see…._same you to you, asshole. _Bye._"

June Stahl pulled her gun from the holster at her waist, plopping it down onto the end table at the front entrance of her house. Pulling her jacket off, kicking her shoes aside she walked past the stack of mail on the kitchenette counter, flipping the hallway light on before entering her home office in the den.

It was time to get to work.

* * *

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The hospital cafeteria was packed. Club members, a few patches he even recognized from other charters filtered in through the crowd, laughing and joking, bitching about the lack of weed and alcohol (that Dr. Altman prohibited at the strong behest of the hospital board) even though Jax knew the 'cigarettes' they were smoking didn't really have tobacco rolled up in them, that the "water" and "green tea" they were sipping from bottles and flasks wasn't supposed to smell so strong. The Teller's family doctor did get her way in one instance. There wasn't an croweater or scantily-clad woman for that matter in sight. All the Old ladies were dressed appropriately. Only a few couples (Tara and Jax being one of them) were playing grab-ass on the dance floor and somehow Gemma Teller (the woman who'd attacked security and collapsed in the hospital lobby weeks ago) managed to attend without incident.

"Are you okay, Tara?" Chastity teased, looking down at her feet. "Mr. two-left-feet here _has _to be killing you by now." She bumped the birthday boy aside with her hip, winking at the surprise in Tara's eyes when she grabbed a hold of her hand, pulling her away from him just as Happy, a moderately recovered Tig, and Kozik popped up out of nowhere. "Leave Jax to get his birthday punches," she joked, unaware that he was about to get a few more than sixteen for the stunt he'd pulled the night before. "Let's put on a show for him…._make him feel better."_

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Eric Miles spilled fruit punch down his chin, all over his shirt, choking on the sip that had gone down the wrong pipe as he watched them. Tara Knowles and the blonde she was dancing with were putting on a show indeed, and he was loving it just as much as the sixteen year old boy it was meant for.

"Pick your jaw up off the goddamn floor," Piney barked, smacking him over the head. "Before I shove the barrel of my gun in your mouth."

"I don't think yours will fit with mine already in there," Kozik warned, glaring at him.

Eric shrugged, his grin sheepish. "They're hot, man," he explained. "Eric Junior doesn't recognize age, ya know. And I'm only like three years—"

JT wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Did you just call your cock _Junior?" _

"Umm—"

"Shut the Hell up before I break the pretty doctor lass' rule about no rough housing," Chibs threatened.

"We can always drag his ass out to the parking lot," Happy eagerly suggested.

"_Everyone's_ staring, Yo!" Eric's eyes widened. "Why am _I _the only one in trouble?"

"That bitch causes trouble where ever she goes," Gemma announced, walking up suddenly. "_Cute party_," she sneered, staring at the man sitting in the reclining chair that looked completely out of place in the high-ceiling room full of party guests. "I guess now I know who helped her pull all this off. When are we wrapping this shit up so we can head back to the clubhouse? Jackson's been begging for that bike since—"

"It's _here," _JT interrupted.

Gemma glared. "Excuse me?"

"Don't worry, Mom," Kozik said, kissing her cheek as he threw an arm over her shoulder. "You get to take a year off and just enjoy. We got everything covered."

"You mean _Tara _does," Piney amended, smirking at the scowl on Gemma's face. "Always trying to take credit for someone else's work."

* * *

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"Enough!" Jax shoved Chastity's shoulder, playfully knocking her aside, snatching Tara off of the dance floor. "She's _my—"_

"GIRLFRIEND!" three different voices said altogether behind them.

Tara giggled as they turned to see the boredom in Opie's expression, the amusement in Donna's and Lowell's.

"We _get it, _Dude," Lowell said. "Jackson Teller's got himself a girlfriend and now anybody that looks at her the wrong way is asking for pool cue in the nuts. Can you _please _stop saying that word? Everyone in Charming knows by now. You have a_ girlfriend. _You can stop reminding us already!"

Tara snickered. "I think Wendy brought her own stash of _liquid courage," _she joked, noting the tipsy look in Lowell's glazed over eyes.

"I think Wendy should let Lowell call _her _his girlfriend," Jax teased, narrowing his eyes at him. "Maybe then he won't be so jealous that I—"

"_Have a _girlfriend!" Donna interrupted, laughing with Tara. "Jesus!"

"My cousin's not here anymore, Dude," Lowell teased. "You don't have to mark your territory."

Tara smacked LJ over the head, narrowing her eyes at him. "I'm not a fuckin fire hydrant," she scolded. "He's not marking anything!"

"This party is kick-_ass, _Tara," Chastity said, winking at her. "The only thing missing is a piñata. All this cookies and cupcakes. There's even brownies. What's a girl gotta do to get a Snicker bar?"

Donna pursed her lips. "Where _did _your cousin go anyway?" she wonder aloud, looking over at Lowell. "He didn't say goodbye or anything. He just slipped out. I didn't even notice he was gone until Jax grabbed Tara's arm off and stormed off after that whole _drunk daddy _comment."

"How'd you even get Jackie-boy to come back, eh?" Lowell wriggled his eyebrows. "You really promise him your virginity for his birthday?"

Oh yeah, Lowell Junior was definitely sauced.

"She promised me a hand j—" Jax neglected to finish his sentence, laughing when Tara shot him a death glare. "She promised to _hold my hand _on the Ferris Wheel."

"I reminded him that he's _always _going to be a_ mama's boy," _Tara told Lowell, narrowing her eyes at the blue-eyed birthday boy who was smiling at her as if he wouldn't be paying for all the inappropriate lies he'd been telling all day, later.

* * *

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She didn't hear anyone come in, which meant he'd already been inside. She hadn't even heard him enter the dimly lit room where she sat, didn't know he was there until a dark shadow casted over the computer screen.

By then it was too late.

June Stahl gasped, right hand flying out to pull on the handle to her top drawer, where she kept her 9mm Beretta. It hadn't occurred to her, why he'd even given her the opportunity to reach for it until her hands patted against the flat surface of the drawer. Her gun was gone. And so was all the random folders and paperwork that had been in there with it. She didn't bother asking who he was, and _he_ was most definitely male. Tall, broad shoulders, the sleeve of his crisp white, collared shirt were folded up at the wrists revealing the coiled muscles of his forearms as he gripped the gun pointed at her face when she braved turning the chair around to face her attacker.

There was no mask.

She could see every fine, chiseled plane of his face, every wisp of hair spared by the well-groomed shaving of his beard and mustache, the cold-calculation in his dark brown eyes, the fullness of perfect, plush pink lips apparent even in the tight line his mouth formed as he looked down at her.

She could see his face, even in the poorly lit room she could I.D him in seconds. A civilian could pick him out in a line up. And she was a cop—one with skilled, sharp, observant eyes. This wasn't a burglar, this wasn't some outlaw thug or old collar from a past case coming around to pay her back in kind for what she'd done. This wasn't a random assailant, nothing about this was random at all. The man knew exactly who she was. And as bad luck would have it, the fact that he'd allowed her to see his face spoke volumes as to how dire her fate was.

"I won't bother asking who you are," Stahl stammered, fighting to keep her voice steady through the tremors rocking her body. "I don't need to ask if you know who I am either. I'm who you're here for. Someone sent you here for me. I don't know why and I d-d-d-don't give a _shit. _You _know _who I am. I'm a Federal Agent…_ATF…._and this shit right here is going to bring a _shitload _of heat for you _and _whoever you w—"

"_You're right," _the man interjected. His voice held a deep, intense vibrato that seem reverberate off the walls, bouncing around in the sudden hollowness of her chest where her heart beat too rapidly for her to feel it through all the shaking, the trembling, the fear-induced adrenaline screaming for her to run even when she knew she had nowhere to go. "_We can skip the introductions," _he said flatly. "I'd prefer to get straight to the part where you give me what I came for."

"You're not here to kill me."

Was it a question or an assumption? June couldn't tell her damn self, much less determine how the stranger had chosen to decipher her words. His expression never changed, his eyes never wavered, but he lowered the gun aimed at her face, dropping it to his side as he finally looked away, dark eyes zeroing in on the thick, brown folder, the manila envelope, and the pile of papers on top of them that were scattered on the desk next to her keyboard. Stahl followed his line of vision, realization dawning as he effortlessly brushed her aside, picking up the page on the top.

"Who sent you?" Stahl asked him. The question was more rhetorical than inquisitive. The scowl marring her features, the reluctant nod of her respect was the proof in the pudding that was recognition. It wasn't deep down. Where the shallowness that was her soul was concerned, the truth aptly pierced through the surface. She knew exactly who sent him. Or at the very least she knew from what Team her unwanted house guest played for. "_Smart bitch," _June mused to herself as the man picked up a second page, scrutinizing it without the least concern for her proximity of her hands to the gun that remained lax at his side. "_She always was."_

"Are these all the files?" The man asked. He posed the question lazily, carelessly, a wry smile spreading across his smooth, handsome features when she offered him no response—just as he'd anticipated. "Do you have family? Siblings? An ex-husband? Kids?"

Each question was fired off almost as an afterthought.

"I didn't think that was the kind of shit that concerned men in your line of business," June Stahl sneered. "You clearly found what you came for. What the fuck do you care if—"

Raising his hand, he fired three shots—two in her chest, one final bullet between her eyes. "I _don't," _answered the man to the dead ATF agent as she quickly caught her before her body could keel over. Grabbing the waste basket next to the desk, he dumped the trash inside to the floor, swiping all the files and papers on the desk inside in one swift motion. Twisting the silencer off, he placed the gun in his leather-gloved hand on the desk. Leaning over her, he typed the three codes he'd been given into the computer, successfully corrupting the entire system and all its files before knocking the monitor to the floor for good measure.

* * *

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_"No….God…no, please," _Diane moaned. "_….You can't….they…no, please…please don't…._Please d—_oh God, Please….No….CLAYYY—"_

"Dee! _Diane!_" Duncan yelled, shaking her shoulders. Diane jerked awake, eyes ballooning as she jumped away from his touch, falling from the bed, crashing with a thud against the hardwood floor of the bedroom. Crawling over to her side of the bed, he slid to the floor where she sat, framing her hands in her face, searching until awareness finally set in. "It's okay," he told her. "It was—"

"_Just a dream," _Diane mumbled, finishing his sentence for him. It was a dream that had been her reality—a recurring nightmare she hadn't suffered in a long time. Not for years. "I know….I'm….I'm okay."

Duncan took her by both hands, slowly pulling her to stand with him. Diane plopped down at the edge of the bed, staring blanket at the floor as he brushed the damp hair sticking to her face aside, patting the washcloth he'd known to bring with him when he ran into the room where she'd fallen asleep waiting for him to return from his business meeting. "I'll be right back," Duncan told her, kissing the top of her head. "I brought your pills."

Diane's eyes shot up towards his face, the accusation clear in her frown of disapproval. "You didn't have to do that," she huffed. "I'm fine."

"I knew what coming back here might do to you," Duncan said gently. "I called Dr. James," he confessed, "Had Rebecca refill your prescription just in case….._stay here, I'll go get you some water to take it with." _

He waited for her nod—how ever reluctant—of approval before leaving the bedroom. He'd made his way into the state-of-art studio kitchen, pulling a tall glass from the top cabinet, and a fresh bottle of Evian from the fridge. Twisting the cap off, he'd filled the glass half way when the middle drawer below the kitchen counter began to vibrate, rocking the entire surface. Sliding the drawer open, he quickly flipped the prepaid cellphone inside open, putting it to his ear.

"_Logan,_" Duncan said, false cheer laced in his tone. "How did Veronica like the gift Dee helped you pick out?"

_"It's done, Sir."_

"Duncan?" Diane called down the hallway, footsteps drawing closer. "I don't need the pills tonight. I think I'm just gonna stay up. I _really _don't want to go back to sleep. Wanna see what's on paper view?" Diane peeked her head in the kitchen, from around the wall separating the kitchen from the back bedrooms. Her smile was strained, but he was thankful she wasn't crying. "_Movie night?" _she asked. "What time does room service end anyway?"

"Pick something out," Duncan told her, smiling. "I'll be right there."

Diane walked towards him, swiping the bottle water from the counter, taking a long swig from it before leaving him alone with his phone conversation, the half-filled glass that was meant for her, and a lingering kiss on the lips that said thank you more than the actual words ever could.

_"The files," _the man said after a moment's silence.

"Parking lot," Duncan whispered. "Fourth floor….I presume you won't need my keys to get in…"

_"Forty minutes," _was all the man said before the phone went dead.

* * *

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"Was that Logan you were in there whispering to?" Diane asked, reaching inside the bucket of popcorn between them. "I wonder what Veronica thought of her gift."

"She loved it," Duncan answered, sipping from the wineglass in his hand. "How could you even doubt that? If gift giving was a career path I'd recommend you give up Nursing for good. Why do you think my little brother is always asking for your advice?"

Diane frowned. "I wish following my own advice worked for me."

Duncan pushed his palm against her shoulder, pulling her in closer to him. "She'll come around," he promised. "Your niece knows you love her."

"It's not just that," Diane admitted. "It's everything else. This shit with that agent you saw today….that's my past coming back around….I can't run….I got do this different. I just…God, I don't even know—"

Duncan reached for her hand, bringing it to his mouth to press his lips to the back of it. "It'll all work out. _I promise."_

The tiny smile brightening her eyes gave him hope—hope that maybe she was starting to believe him. But even if she wasn't, she'd have no choice soon enough. The woman threatening their happiness had been taken care of. _He'd _taken care of her. He'd come up with the solution just as soon as she'd told him the problem. Diane was safe. She had no reason to get mixed up in the past, no reason to let herself get sucked back into her old life. As she laid her head against him, the tattooed on her chest—Padraic Telford's name was illuminated in the light beaming from the television in the center of the room.

Forty minutes.

Just forty more until he and his loving wife both had the assurances they needed. Diane had no reason to go back.

She had no reason at all.

* * *

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_ "He's gonna kick your ass."_ Tara giggled, shaking her head as Jax tilted his head back, taking another healthy swig from the flask he'd swiped from the inside pocket of Piney's Kutte. Jackson Teller was turning out to be quite the pickpocket these days—stealing keys, and Whiskey. But then that just made Tara Knowles the Bonnie to his Clyde as she drank from the Pepsi bottle in her hand, sipping on something that was a little more her alcoholic father's flavor than it appeared through the clear plastic.

Jax smirked. "I miss Kyle," he joked. "It was fun blaming all the bad shit me and Ope did on him. I hope they sponsor a new prospect soon. I need a fall guy for all the shit we get into."

"This shit is _disgusting_." Tara wrinkled her nose in disgust, looking down at the soda bottle full of Bourbon. "I don't know how my father drinks this all the time."

"Want some of mine?" Jax offered. He scowled at her when she snatched it away from him. "I said you could have _some," _he complained as he watched her tuck the flash in the kangaroo-pocket of his SONS sweatshirt, the one he'd taken off to give to her the second he caught her rubbing her bare shoulders.

"You can't get drunk," Tara scolded. "JT's gonna be pissed if you crash your bike your first night on the road. And I think there's been enough accidents for both our families. We're in this hospital so much we threw your birthday party here."

"Today was great, Babe." Jax gripped her waist, turning her around as they came to a stop in the middle of the empty, dimly lit corridor. "_Thank you."_

Tara cocked her head sideways, mischief glittering her smile. "Sure, you're not disappointed about the lack of a _piñata?"_

Jax smirked, kissing the tip of her nose. "Nope."

"Too bad," Tara teased. "I was going to suggest we tie your _mother_ up and beat her with a stick." Jax laughed with her. "I bet if we blindfolded _her _all those Old ladies always trailing behind her would be fighting to take the first swing. It wouldn't solve the no-candy problem but it would be a shitload of fun for everyone."

"You want some candy, Babe?" Jax cocked both eyebrows at her. Spinning her around, he backed her up against the wall. Tara shuddered against him as his lips traced the shell of her ear, kissing the sweet spot behind it, then her jaw, trailing kisses down her neck as he grabbed her hand, slowly guiding her hand down his chest, past his navel, over the SAMCRO belt buckle he always wore, stopping at his groin. Jax pressed her palm against the tent in his jeans, drawing in a sharp breath as she rubbed him, stroked him slow and hard. "_God, _Tara," he groaned. "If candy's what you want I got a lollipop right here for you, Baby."

* * *

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The first door was locked. He felt like kicking it through. Behind the second there was a fully-stocked closet of medical supplies that they couldn't risk someone walking in to sift through. Door number three could have been the secret passageway to the Never-never land, the hidden wardrobe that went with the lion and the witch. They never bothered to look at Jax turned the handle, pushing her inside. His lips were all over neck, kissing her chest as his hands tugged at the hem of his sweatshirt until he could bring himself to break away long enough to pull it over her head. He heard it fall, but they couldn't see it. Not until Tara let go of the unbuckled belt looped through his pants to feel for a light switch along the wall. She found it, flicking it on. Both teenagers took barely a moment to smile at the empty bunk bed on the other end of the tiny room they'd discovered.

Tara shoved him back, clapping a hand over her mouth when he hit his head on the railing of the top bunk. "Oops." Tara giggled. "That was _SO _not sexy."

Jaz winced, rubbing the back of his head. "I think I might have brain damage," he half-joked. "I'm seeing three of you right now."

"And you said everything I do to you feels _good," _Tara teased. Her smile was saucier than before, a teasing glint in her eyes as she curled her fingers in at his hips, pulling his jeans and boxer down with her as her bare knees touched the floor. "Tell me how you want it, Baby," she purred. Smiling, she kissed the tip of his cock, flicking her tongue lightly against it, barely, not nearly enough to get it wet. Jax groaned as she asked told him, "Tell me _exactly _how you want it."

_"Just like before,"_ Jax breathe, willing his eyelids to stay open as he looked into the emerald eyes peering up at him. "Do it just like before when—_shit…." _Dipping her head she press her tongue hard against balls, swirling it back and forth, one than the other, saturating the twin sacs with the wet heat of her tongue as her hand slid up and down his cock, her thumb gently stroking the swollen head. His hands were tangled up in her hair, twisted the soft strands between his fingers as she dragged her tongue up the length him. She did it over and over again, from the base where balls hung tight all the way back up to the tip of him. Same measured pressure, same teasing stroke of her tongue. "Damn it, Tara," Jax groaned, eyes fluttering open. "You're killing me….don't just lick it. You gotta suck on it, too…_suck it, Baby…_you said you wanted it_…_"

Tara giggled. "You want me to suck your lollipop?"

"_Your _lollipop, Baby," he drawled, threading his hands in her hair. "It's all yours, I swear…"

"Tell me," Tara kissed the crown, grazing her teeth lightly against the tip as she jerked him slowly. "How you want it, Jackson…._Don't be shy,_" the green-eyed minx taunted. "This might be the only time I let you boss me around."

Jax gripping both sides of her face, groaning low in his throat as he guided her head down. In and out, up and down Tara bobbed, taking him all the way to back of her throat, slurping her way back up until her lips were at the tip again, tongue swirling around it. "Oh shit, Baby," he moaned. He pushed her head down, pulling it back up by the soft strands of her hair, repeating the motion once more. Tara began sucking faster just like he'd wordlessly urged, then slow, then fast again, a feverish, uneven tempo that had his nails digging into her scalp. "Fuck, Babe..._keep sucking me just like that_, Tara… I don't have to tell you, Baby…..you know just what to do with it…."

Tara pulled back, stroking him slowly with the slickness from her mouth. Her green eyes smoldered, teeth biting into her bottom lip. "All those things you said last night when we were…..I like it when you talk to me….when you tell me…" Tara swirled her tongue around the tip of him, sucking a kiss on swollen head, pulling back to flash him that saucy smiled he'd come to learn always promised wonder-_fuckin-_ful things. _"Tell me," _she demanded. "_Tell me you love it."_

"You're perfect, Tara," Jax hissed as her thumb grazed the tip of him. Leaning down, he tipped her chin up to kiss her, groaning in pleasure at the taste of her mouth. Her taste with his. Fuck, he could taste himself on her tongue. Why the fuck did that turn him on. _"You're fuckin perfect," _he told her. "…and I love it when you suck my c—_shit….._yes….._I love the way you do it, Baby," _he moaned. His spin might have snapped when he threw his head back in response to the sudden warmth of her wet mouth around him, every inch of him again until he was tickling the back of her throat. Forcing his head forward, Jax fisted a hand in her hair, pulling her face back until Tara's eyes fluttered opened. "That's right, Babe…..keep them open for me….don't look away," he begged her. Then he did just as she asked. He told her. Fuck, he couldn't stop telling her how he wanted it. "…._Use your lips…._I want to feel just your lips on the tip of—_fuck, _just like that…..God, you're so fuckin perfect…" He curved his hand at the base of her neck. "….Can I feel your throat again, Baby? Can I—"

_"Mhmmm." _Tara nodded, smiling around the thick length of him as she did what he asked, pulling back slowly, cheeks hallowing as she sucked him deep in her mouth up and down, over and over.

His vocal cords constricted, spine tingling, uneven breaths coming in quick, desperate sips of air. His little Know-it-all was going rogue.

Tara was slurping on him hard and faster, rubbing his balls, massaging them in her palm as he moaned her name in between every "Fuck" or "Jesus Christ" hissing past his clenched teeth. "Shit, Tara…..I'm close," he warned, bucking forward into her mouth as he gripped her face tighter. "…._you gotta me right where I need to…._God, I'm so fuckin cl—_Holy shit…._ Tara….Tara _Grace….._I'm cumming, Baby, I'm…..._fuckkkk…_."

"_Happy Birthday, Baby_" Tara's smile was smug, satisfaction that nearly rivaled his own shining in her eyes when he groaned at the sight of her, flicking her tongue across her top lip, sucking the bottom one into her mouth, drinking the last droplets of him that hadn't spilled straight down her throat as she slowly rose to stand, pulling his pants and boxers up with her.

Jax gripped her wrist, stopping her before the denim fully-covered his hips. "I want my gift _now."_

Tara giggled. "God, Jax," she teased. "You really are a spoiled brat aren't you?" She shook her head at him, pulling the tube of strawberry lip gloss from her back pocket to re-coat her lips. "Come on, we gotta head back before—"

Tara didn't hit _her _head.

The way he swiftly grabbed her, tossing her on the bottom bunk before crawling between her legs was the very definition of sexy. It was almost predatory the way the way he yanked the clasps of her shorts apart, yanking them down her thighs as he sucked hard on the pulse at her throat.

"_Jackson," _Tara moaned, weakly gripping the hand he'd used to push her panties aside. "The….the _party."_

"The party's right here, Tara," Jax drawled, sliding his hands up the back of her shirt to unclasp her bra. "I'm about to have a party all over your body, Baby."

_Happy Motherfuckin Birthday to me._

* * *

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"JOSH?" Sheila Kohn called out. The front door open and shut, footsteps pounded along the front room, bounding up the living room staircase. Robert F. Kohn's ex-wife shrugged the lack of response off as she heard walking on the floor above her from where she sat at the dining table, sipping wine as she read the latest novel Gloria Hale had recommended for book club. "_Probably blasting them damn headphones in his ear as usual," _the laidback mother presumed.

Joshua Kohn wasn't wearing headphones.

Turning the lock on his bedroom door, stepped inside his closet, pushing the clothes hanging up aside to pull the hidden compartment door built into the wall open. Climbing through the tiny opening, he stepped inside the panic room his father had installed in the house years ago after a crazed, desperate suspect in one of his ongoing cases had taken his wife and eight year-old son hostage. It was the final straw that had led to end of his parents' marriage, something the installation of a safe room couldn't help. Sheila Kohn had all but forgotten about it. Her nineteen year-old son never forgot about. From the ages ten to twelve, it had been his secret hideout, his fortress of solitude from all the neighbor kids who didn't understand him, who preferred to bloody his nose than bother trying. But for the past four years the room he stood in had become something else entirely. Walking towards the clotheslines hanging from wall to wall, sharp eyes drank in every shadowed image of her gorgeous face. Even the photos that had come out blurry or smudged took nothing away from her beautiful features. Nor did the ungrateful, undeserving blue-eyed asshole cropped out of the frame with only an arm or a shoulder, a hint of his blonde hair to remind Josh that the bastard wasn't just there.

He was back.

Three years he'd left her alone, crying in corners of the library by herself. Driving by that shitty clubhouse on that selfish, ungrateful little bastard's birthday looking in on all the fun he was having without her. All those spineless, airheaded sluts he'd pranced around her. Those same jealous pom-pom bitches terrorizing her when she was all alone. Leaving her to deal with the torture from that pathetic monster she called her father. So many times, he'd thought about putting an end to them. To all of them. But his Tara still loved them. God, she was perfect in every way except one.

Tara loved the wrong people.

She always opened her heart to the wrong person. But that was okay. He was a part of her life now. Her true love, her soulmate masquerading as her friend. Her tutor. He'd be there when Jackson Teller screwed up again.

He'd even help him along with the inevitable.

Tara was his.

Him and Tar-Tar were meant to be.

They were loners.

Two halves of one whole and nothing or no one would stop fate.

Joshua opened the bag in his hand, pulling the denim short from inside, the snug-fitting blouse that completed the outfit with it. Crushing them together in his hands, he pressed them to his face, inhaling deeply. _Jesus, _she smelled amazing. All the days gone by and her scent still lingered. More than a month had gone by since her accident. Since that traitor she used to call her best friend almost killed. Months since the night his Tara had gone over to that _Jackson _boy's house and let him defile her. Let him strip the clothes in his hands from her perfect body. She'd let him indulge in the sweet taste of her skin, his hands graze every fine curve of her waist, hips, her breasts.

He was probably the reason she hadn't worn a bra that day at the mall.

Didn't Tar-tar know she was already sexy without trying to be provocative? She didn't have to try so hard for him. She didn't have to try at all. She was flawless. Every inch of her, from the swell of the breast to the soft, milky thighs that had once been inside the shorts pressed to his face—the shorts he'd taken from Jackson Teller's bedroom when he'd excused himself from the spoiled Princes' royal birthday breakfast. He couldn't believe Tara let him treat her so foul. Staking his claim at a dining table full of guest like she was some property he'd bought on his mom's credit card, groping her, fondling her in public like they were in an amusement park full of children, like she was one of his cheap sluts he usually slept with.

_"You'll see, Tar-Tar," _Joshua whispered into the night as he pulled at his belt buckle. Popping the buttons of his jeans open, he pulled the zipper down, freeing himself of the confines of the briefs he wore underneath them. "_We're going to be together soon," _he promised. His voice was a half-moan, every word muffled against the fabric of her shorts as he breathed in and out deeply, pressing the crotch of the denim underneath his nose. "_I love you, Tara," _Joshua moaned as he stroked himself. _"I'll _always _love you….._more than he _ever will…"_

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"Really, Babe?" Jax shook his head, peering at the blindfold in Tara's hand. "I already _know _what I'm getting. What's the point of—"

"Just humor me please," Tara asked him. "Humor _us."_

All resistance ceased when Tara gently placed the folded, black bandana into his mother's open palm. Gemma wasn't smiling at her, she didn't thank her for including her in the part of his sixteenth birthday that she already felt entitled to unveiling. But her usual scowl wasn't to be found either, and she was gentle about accepting it, nodding however curtly before sliding it down over his eyes, tying it tight so he couldn't sneak a peek at the Harley he already knew he was walking outside to see.

"About damn time," Jax heard someone mumble as the hospital's automatic front entrance doors swooshed open.

"Let's do this!" He heard someone else yell.

_"Ready, Baby?" _

Jax couldn't see neither one of them but he was sure his mother's scowl was back, matching the intensity of Tara's grin of embarrassment when they both uttered the same question, at the same time.

"_He's been ready for twelve years_," came John Teller's voice. "Ever since he scraped his knee when he fell trying to climb onto mine."

Shit-eating.

That's was the best way to describe his grin as he felt his mother slowly pull the blindfold from over his eyes. Eyelids fluttering open, his jaw dropped, blue eyes ballooned, his mouth went dry as all the family and friend surrounding him hooped and hollered, clapping and whistling, laughing and chanting their third and fourth 'Happy Birthday's'

It was his sixteenth birthday, and he'd finally gotten the bike he'd always wanted, the Harley he'd been asking for since her was four years old—Thomas Teller's age when he vowed that he'd grow up to be just like his big brother.

Jax was staring at a bike that looked eerily familiar despite never having saw it before. It just didn't feel like the first time. A shiny, black Dynah. Custom design. Red handle bars. Glossy, blue-painted rims. It was just like the—"

"I hope you like it," Tara murmured loud enough for only his ears. His and perhaps Gemma's too, although the matriarch looked just as surprised as her son, appalled even. The Harley she had designed for him didn't look anything like the one in the center of the crowd. "If you hate it, don't blame him, Jax. I convinced JT to use Tommy's picture...I just thought that...well I hoped you'd be happy he got to design it for you like he wanted..._Oh God, _you h—"

_"I love it, Tara," _Jax breathed. He willed the light breeze wafting through the open air to dry the moisture threatening to pool in his eyes as he tipped her chin up, kissing her softly, then deeper, lazily until the collective throat-clearing and whistling grew too loud to feign ignorance.

Tara smiled. "_I don't get all the credit, Jax._" Turning her head, she nodded towards the man standing by the bench to the left of them, balancing himself on the crutches underneath his arms as he peered overat his son, pride shining in his eyes.

"Happy Birthday, Son," John Teller said.

A chorus of Harley engines rumbled, the crowd parted down the middle—leaving a gap wide enough for SAMCRO to ride through, stopping barely a foot behind the spot where his bike was parked. Opie was at the front of the pack, smiling at him as he revved the engine on the belated birthday present from Piney.

"I know it ain't the same as riding with your Old man," Opie said to his best friend. "…But I was hoping you'd be cool if your first ride was with your brother...Unspoken shit aside...that's what _I _want now that I've got my Harley."

"Opie forgot the _'S', _Junior." Padraic looked around at all the leather-clad men nodding their heads in agreement to his declaration. "He meant to say _brothers-zz…_You don't really expect us to sit this one out, do you?"

"Go," Tara encouraged, gently sliding her hand out of his. "I'll be here when you get back."

Jax smiled, brushing her hair back. "You better be," he threatened. "You might be a track star, but you can't outrun my Harley. I'll always catch up with you."

Tara shook her head. "You won't have to," she promised. "_Go…._ride with your _brothers."_

"Show 'em how it's done, Son," JT echoed. "_I'll_ be catching up with _you _soon enough."

"_You_ better_," _Tara taunted, narrowing her eyes at the chuckling father. "I can still outrun _you."_

Jax snickered, stealing another kiss. "Stop bullying my father," he scolded.

"I'm so proud of you, Baby." Gemma stepped forward, bracing her hands against his shoulder, squeezing the life out of his neck as Jax pushed aside every angry, confused feeling, everything left unsaid between them to hug his mother back.

"I love you, Mom," Jax told her. "I swear to God, you make it hard as Hell to, but I'll _always _love you anyway…even when I want to kill you."

Gemma laughed, tears trickling down from his eyes. She kissed his forehead before spinning him back around, pushing him forward. For just a second her shoulder touched with Tara's. Both were too caught up in the moment to notice.

Jax deviated from the direction of his bike, walking towards his father.

"I love you, Old man," he declared. The crutches didn't matter. Nor did any residual soreness from his father's accident, or the tenderness in his chest and arms from all the punches Kozik gave him for stealing his bike. Both Teller men hugged each other tightly. It was serendipitous the way his father's his lips somehow matched up with the faint mark of Gemma's lipstick when he, too kissed his son's forehead before nudging him forward.

"Come on, Bro," Opie urged, waving him over until he picked up the speed he was walking. "Let's show these old dogs some new tricks."

_"BITCH, PLEASE!" _Happy growled, revving his engine.

Jax could still hear the raucous choir of laughter and comradery as he turned the corner at the end of the block, several feet away from the St. Thomas parking lot.

He was riding with his brothers.

With his family, and he loved it.

But he'd love it even more when a certain green-eyed brunette was wrapping her arms around his waist again.

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**NO. **I didn't glaze over any of the drama and well overdue confrontations between our SOA favorites and villains we love to hate. I just felt the need to put emphasis on how this merry band of dysfunctional Charming-folk always manage to sweep shit under the rug just long enough to show how much they love each other for the moments that matter.

Honestly, I would have aborted this ship a long time ago. You handfuls that give engaging feedback and those that eerily (yes it is eerie the way it happens) message me in moments when I'm like "What the fuck did I get myself into?!" while trying to figure out how to navigate all the plots/arcs..._y'all are keeping me going. _Keeping me honest. I _HATE _not finishing what I start. Your words encourage me not to slap something together just for the sake of saying I finished. So kudos to **YOU**, my muses.

**|REVIEW|**


	74. Chapter 67

**A/N: **Flashbacks are to several hours earlier, covering a very important, _long overdue _conversation. This **will **close out birthday night completely.

**BTW:** I sincerely hope you enjoyed the Honeymoon phase. I'd argue that with the exception of Gemma **all **of the characters were getting their **happy **on in one way or another. Had to end at some point though..._right?_

**P.S: **Uh _Brandi.._...that wasn't actually Jax's gift...

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

**_SEVERAL HOURS EARLIER….._**

_"What the fuck are you shitheads trying to pull?" Gemma raged, storming inside the clubhouse. Turning angry eyes on each of the surprised faces of the men lounging in the Club Reaper bar, Gemma's hand flew to her hip as Olive-green met with Ocean blue. "Luann's not answering her phone. _None of the girls are! _I've had my phone glued to my ear all goddamn morning. I've been driving around town looking for dead bodies, hung over crow eaters—banging on front doors but everyone's missing! I come _here," _Gemma screeched, flailing her arms around the open bar. "And _none _of the shit I set up is ready. And you guys are sitting your asses...lying around here sipping beers and shooting pool instead of heading out to the cabin with my son to play paintball for his birthday like _I _planned!"_

_Kozik shrugged, blue eyes never shying away from her glare as he took another swig from the beer in his hand. "Tara was supposed to talk to you."_

_If it was possible the angry matriarch's murderous expression intensified. "Oh she _did _talk to me, Sweetheart," Gemma seethed. "She told me you had _club business _to handle._ That's bullshit! _Clay's not even in Charming. _Said you _helped her come up with Jackson's birthday surprise. You two been planning secret birthday shit for my son together, huh? I wonder what other secret shit you been doing together….I knew that little gash would end up hurting him eventually. I never would have guessed that _you'd _be the one to help her along….but then…._you always seem to like 'em young…._that Hale girl always flashing her ass around you waiting for you to take the bait….and of course…let's not forget _Diane…."

_"Hey!" Kozik scowled, eyes briefly darting to where Padraic suddenly sat up straight on the couch from across the bar. "Don't go stirring up shit with us just because your little boy likes holding hands in the haunted house with his girlfriend more than spending the day getting spoon-fed birthday cake by his _mommy_."_

_"What _about_ him and Di?" Padraic questioned, standing up._

_"Sit ya arse, down!" Chibs grabbed his nephew by the arm, tugging him back down to where he'd been sitting on the couch next to him. "What did I say when you first came back here? _Ancient history_, Lad. Let it go."_

_"Maybe I just want to know what it _is _I'm letting go," Padraic hissed, glaring at Kozik. "All that shit with the Nords and the Mayans we never did get to have it—"_

_"Ain't shit to let go of!" Happy growled, shaking his head at the angry Scotsman. "How many times you need to hear the same shit, Bro? Kozik wasn't tapping your Old lady—"_

_"She's not his _Old Lady_," Chibs interjected, frowning at the younger Telford fuming next to him. "It doesn't matter what he did or didn't do."_

_"Oh, but it really _fuckin _does," Padraic disagreed, nostrils flaring as he stared at his blonde-headed patch brother._

_Kozik pointed a hand towards his angry face, glaring up at the triumphant smile on Gemma's. "You happy now?" He barked. _

_Gemma smirked. _"Hardly."

_"Well then you need to have it out with your Old man," Chibs suggested, rising to stand, walking over to the bar to pour himself another shot of whiskey. "We don't take orders from fifteen year old girls. This shit is JT's call. John said he would clear everything wit you."_

_"Well he_ didn't," _Gemma growled, taunting smile morphing back into her earlier scowl. "He didn't clear any__—"_

_"Then take it up with him," Kozik interrupted. He sighed at the wounded look that flashed in her eyes before she remembered to throw her usual shutters down over it. "You haven't been up to St. Thomas to see him since he woke up. I know 'cause_ I've _been there...__ I know shit between y'all has been...I don't know what it's been like...I just know it ain't good. I owe your son a black eye for stealing my Harley...doesn't mean I don't want the young blood to enjoy the big one-six. You and JT need to have it out...settle this shit before you ruin your boy's birthday."_

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_"This shit is fuckin unreal, Bro!" _

Opie chuckled, nodding in agreement as he watched his best friend rest his brand new Harley down on its kickstand right next to his. They were several miles apart from the others, switched lanes before they could catch up and doubled back before any of them realized what had even happened. They were standing outside the local diner, looking on as three of the four remaining cars drove out of the parking lot.

"I'm surprised you didn't lay down your bike," Opie teased. "All those blows you took to the chest I figured you'd be laid up with your Old man. Sitting your first ride out _with _him."

Jax cocked an eyebrow at him, lips twisting to one side of his face. "You call those love taps Kozy and Hap hit me with _punches? _Pleeaase. I _eat _those."

Opie nodded. "Y-uupp…..looks that way."

Jax stepped towards him, pulling off the riding gloves Donna bought him from his hands. "I've been taking hits all day," he bragged. "You're the only asshole that hasn't taken a shot at me. You planning on sucker-punching me again?"

"Who snuck who _first, _dickhead?" Opie challenged. "You split my lip because you found out Tara's secret boyfriend was Charming High's Quarterback. I was just giving your shit right back to you."

Jax smirked. "You've been doing that a lot lately," he mused. "I can never tell when the next blow is coming. One second we're good and the next you're trying to cut off my goddamn head like some Cartel Kingpin or some shit. When are you gonna stop dancing around it?"

Opie's smile vanished. "Dance around what?"

Jax shrugged. "Whatever crawled up your ass and died."

Opie nodded. "How about I give your birthday punches first?"

Jax snickered, teasing, "We can go that way if you want but it's like you s—"

Opie pulled his arm back, fist connecting with Jax's face before he could finish his sentence.

Jax pressed two fingers to his lip, dabbing at the cut slicing through it, pulling them back to see red staining the pads of them, the shock frozen on his face melting into a challenging scowl. "It's _like you told me," _he said. "You only get _one _free shot. Next time I'm—"

When he swung the second time, Jax jerked back, tripping over the rise of the pavement behind him as Opie's knuckles dug into the spot above his eye.

Opie shrugged his arms out of the jacket he had on, cracking his knuckles as Jax slowly stood up, glowering at him from the corner alleyway of the _Taste of Charming_ Diner.

"_Tara_ thinks it's cute when you throw her words back at her," Opie sneered. "_I don't."_

"Let's see how cute _you _are when _I-beat-your-FUCKIN-face-In!" _The threat was all one word, no breaths in between as Jax charged at him, tackling him to the ground. Back and forth they rolled, tussling on the down on the asphalt—one, two, three punches here, flipping, adding a knee to a groin there. When they'd finished, when they'd finally got tired of beating the snot and sweat and blood out of each other, when they finally leaned into each other, pushing up off the ground using the other's chest to stand up straight—Jax's eyebrow was bleeding, so were both of their noses. The spot underneath Opie's eyes was already purpling, Jax was twitching his jaw left to right making sure it was still in place and both sixteen year old's were spitting red.

Kendra Thompson looked up from the register drawer she'd been counting money from to greet the new customers entering the diner. A wide, strained smile of welcome to the latest locals to visit her late night shift morphed into wide-eyed surprise when she took in the bloody, battered look of the two young men walking towards their usual booth.

"Jesus Christ," She hissed, quickly walking around the counter towards them. "I hope the other guys look better than you two."

"The other guy looks like _shit," _Opie told her, narrowing her eyes at the blue-eyed boy across the table from him.

Jax chuckled. "I'm _always _going to look better than the other guy."

Kendra rolled her eyes, clicking her pen open as she turned to a fresh page in her notepad. "Nice to see he didn't beat the arrogance out of you."

"That would have to be one _Hell _of a beat down," Opie mused, glaring.

"Your usual?" Kendra asked, looking between them.

"Not tonight, Darlin," Jax answered, making a show of rubbing his stomach. "I'm saving room for dessert later. My girlfriend got me my own personal birthday cake. I don't plan on sharing it either."

"I'll take a slice of apple pie if you got any left," Opie said, smiling at her. "Two extra scoops of vanilla."

Kendra winked at him. "I'll be right back," she announced, walking away.

"Did you hear about the club vote?" Opie eyes scanned the menu in his hand when he asked, reading the items he should have known by heart after all the time he'd spent eating there. Jax nodded even though he couldn't see him, "They made it official," Opie continued. "Clay put it to a vote. Said you and me can Prospect at sixteen if we're willing to do an extra year to prove we earned our way in instead of getting our top rocker because of our fathers. Pop was the only one against it so…..Clay's up in Nevada handling some shit for the club. He's suppose to be back tomorrow. Tomorrow night they'll be voting in the new prospects. Me, that dude Miles and the mousy looking one…I think his name is Niko? Anyway….Kozik's sponsoring Rat-boy. Happy signed on to torture the Hell out of Miles and since Piney's refusing to cut his bullshit…._Clay's _sponsoring me. I don't know the bylaws by heart. I doubt you do either but I'm pretty sure there's no rule against JT sponsoring you even if he can't ride."

"You don't ride you don't _vote," _Jax recited. "He can't even vote me in _himself _right now."

"It's not the final vote," Opie hedged. "We're looking at another two years before that happens. Even if it was final….Piney ain't got shit against _you_ joining SAMCRO. You'd get the full table no question."

Jax sighed, looking down at the table between them. "_I'm not prospecting."_

When he met his eyes, it was surprise instead of contempt reflecting back at him.

"What the Hell are you talking about, Bro?" Opie squinted his eyes at the boy who looked just like his best friend, yet didn't sound like him at all. "SAMCRO is our life. It's our _legacy. _It's all we've been talking about since were kids. Hell, these days it's the only common ground we have. The club and...well _Tara._"

"I got new plans," Jax admitted, his voice absent of the usual bravado. "Well….I'm gonna _make _some new ones." Jax shook his head, anger briefly flashing in his eyes. "I can't do it, Bro. I can't wear a patch while Clay's sitting in my dad's chair…while he's holding _his _gavel no matter what the reason or the end game is. I _can't. _And even if shit wasn't like it is…even if the man who _should_ be at the head of the table was still sitting in that chair….JT wants more for me than the club."

Opie snorted. "You sound like _Tara_."

Jax smiled at the mere mention of her name. "You're always telling me to defuse the crazy," he mused, smirking. "Tara's not crazy, Bro. She's judgmental…and she thinks she knows every goddamn thing….but as much as I _can't stand _admitting it….she's right most of the time. Just like my pain in the ass mother when it comes to everything _but _Tara...and the club."

Opie raised his shoulders, eyes squinting in confusion. "What are you going to do? Go to school to be a lawyer? A _professor? _Or are you planning on being a trophy husband when Tara's playing God as some famous surgeon or mad scientist or some shit?"

Jax snickered. "I think I'll start with a part-time job that I have to actually _show up _for to get my paycheck. And I'm dating a nerd so," Jax scratched his head absently, "I guess I should be able to work on my grades. I'll never be a fuckin Einstein like her but I could at least get my diploma. A little something to hang up on the wall with the five thousand fuckin awards and degrees Know-it-all Knowles gets."

"Who the Hell are you, Man?" Opie gaped at him. "Seriously, Bro. I thought Donna got switched with a fuckin changeling when Sarah showed up. This shit is ten times worse."

Jax shrugged. "You're the one that told me to grow a dick."

Opie rolled his eyes at the reciting of his words. "I meant stop treating her like shit," he clarified. "I didn't say ride off to Vegas and get hitched."

Jax narrowed his eyes, a taunting smile lighting up his face as he leaned across the table. "You been reading my diary again?"

Opie scowled. "Nope," he grunted out, sounding just like his father. "I probably should have though. I wouldn't have to figure out all the shit you keep from me."

Jax pointed towards the window, out into the parking lot. "Didn't we just have it out? What the Hell is wrong with you, Bro?"

"You've been lying to my face," Opie accused, glaring at him. Neither noticed when Kendra placed his dessert on the table, or the way she slithered away from the fireworks threatening to go off between the two of them. Again. "I've been trying to wrap my head around it ever since I found out. Wondering how long you've been—"

"_Lying about what, Ope?"_

Opie's jaw twitched. Jax swore he could hear the subtle click of the red hand on the wall clock mounted above their table through the silence. "When were you going to tell me Tara was my sister?"

Jax shook his head, realization dawning in his eyes immediately. "_Sarah Mother_-fuckin_ Hale_."

"This shit ain't on her," Opie said. "_You're _the one that was supposed to tell me. That might have been the first selfless thing she did by doing what you didn't have the balls...the _respect _to tell me."

Jax scoffed. "I'm sure her telling you had nothing to do with me," he griped. "It had nothing to do with fuckin me over one last time before she got high again and flew her broomstick into a wall this time instead of Tara."

"You call me your _brother," _Opie said. "You tell Tara you _love _her….you're talking about all your _new plans. _And it sounds like you want her to be a part of them. How can you bullshit me to my face? To _her _face? And then have the nerve to fly off the fuckin handle because we didn't tell you she was hooking up with the boy you _hate_ for no fuckin reason."

"It's not my truth to tell," Jax defended, shrugging lightly. "There ain't no sense in speaking on something that I don't even know is true. Not for _sure."_

"You don't think we have a right to figure it out?" Opie challenged.

"What's my take from this, Opie?" Jax asked, pointing towards his own chest. "What the Hell did I have to gain from keeping this from you? From _Tara? _I'll tell you just like I told that scheming bitch Sarah. Telling her the truth would hurt her. Finding out that the _truth _is really a _lie_ might hurt her even more. I'm sorry, Bro but I don't regret it. If keeping the truth from someone is protecting them the lie doesn't count."

Opie tilted his head. "You really believe that shit? I'm supposed to be good with that?"

"You two have always been close," Jax acknowledged. "Ever since she first moved her. She's already like a sister to you. And…._maybe _she really _is _your sister. Maybe she _isn't._ It doesn't matter. Not to _you. _You won't treat her any different and you know it. It's not going to change anything for you. _It will for her. _That man she's been living with for sixteen years….he's been hurting ever since we were kids…this shit with her mom…he put it all on _Tara. _Telling her lets him off the hook. Instead of being pissed at him like she _should _be….she's going to feel guilty….she's going to let her _mother's _betrayal swallow her up, Ope. You know she will. That's what Tara does. She takes on everybody else's shit. I know that better than anybody. She's been doing it for me since Junior high. You want to be pissed at me? Fine. I'll own it. But even if I don't deserve a pass…do you really think _Arthur _should get one? You've known about this for how long? _And you haven't treated her any different. _If anything, you keep her closer. That's not what _he _did. He's been _torturing _her. And while you were letting her in your bedroom window every night I was sneaking Ima and Maize out of mine. I'm _not_ doing it. Bloody my nose up all you want to, Bro. Her father doesn't deserve an excuse."

"Too bad," Opie mused. "He could borrow one from you. Seems like you're full of them."

Jax swallowed hard, nodding stiffly once. "You're gonna tell her...aren't you?"

Opie's glare resurface, burning brighter. "She's your _girlfriend, _asshole! Shouldn't _you _be the one telling her?"

Eyebrows rose high, wriggling dangerously close to his scalp as mirth eased its way into the blonde-haired boy's features. Jax laughed, shoulders trembling and everything, head shaking at the scowling face across from him. "You don't want to tell her either," he surmised, chortling. "You want me to be the messenger to take one in the chest. Balls in your court, Ope. I can't do shit to stop you but _I'm _not telling her. I got no proof it's true and I really don't see—"

"_She's going to hate you for lying to her."_

Jax's smile faded. "You're going to make her hate her mother," the newly-turned sixteen year old challenged. "Her mom means everything to her. She might as well be mother fuckin Theresa. Her father's the devil and the mom that was taken from her way too fuckin soon is the Angel. Gemma attacks her every chance she gets and Tara still did everything but hold me at gunpoint to get me to go home…to get me to _hear her out…._to _understand. _She keeps telling me _you only get one mother, Jackson. _You only get _one. _She lost the _one. _You're asking me to….she's going to lose her _again _in the worse fuckin way possible."

"You don't think she'll have some _understanding_ for her own mother?" Opie asked.

"Gemma's still here, Ope." Jax shook his head. "I can yell at her…call her a _whore _if I wanted to if I found out my Dad wasn't really my Dad. Or that Thomas was only my half-brother. She's still here to ask for forgiveness….to _make _me understand. All Tara's got is a gravestone and an album full of old pictures."

Opie sighed. "What the Hell am I supposed to do?"

What could he do? Besides hope that his best friend didn't noticed the way he flinched at the theory of his brother having a different father.

Jax slid out of the booth, tossing the money for Opie's uneaten apple pie and melted ice cream on the table as he got up. "The same thing you been doing," he answered simply. "_Love her. _Keep looking out for the hotheaded, rude pain in the ass that might be your sister. That's the best I got, Bro. That's _all _I've got. You're the supposed to be the wise one. _You got a better idea?"_

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Tara knocked three times, pulling the door open when she heard her father's answer. The hospital room was dimly lit, the only light shining through the TV.

It was on mute.

The only sound in the room was the light tip-tap of her feet across the floor as she walked towards him. That and the slight acceleration of his breathing as his daughter came to a stop at the foot of his bed. Tara's expression was undecipherable. He couldn't gauge which side of her he'd see tonight. The sweetheart, the calm, compassionate, passive side that reminded him so much of her mother Moira when he'd first met her. Or the jaded, bitter teenager he'd created after years of neglect and misplaced anger. As it turned out, he was greeted with an uncanny combination of the two.

Tara offered him a smile, a slight upturn of her mouth that went well with the slice of birthday cake she sat on the table hovering over his legs. "I've tasted the lime Jell-O they serve in here," she said. "I think you'll like this dessert better."

Arthur Knowles smiled, reaching for the button to his bed to adjust it so that he could sit up straighter. Fully upright he immediately reached for the spoon standing up in the center of the treat she'd brought him, indulging in a spoonful even if only to please her, to show his appreciation before murmuring, "Thank you," through his mouthful.

"Today was Jackson's birthday," Tara told him. "He's my _boyfriend…._the one you wouldn't let me visit when he got arrested._"_

Arthur Knowles nodded. "I know who Jackson is," he replied simply.

"Of course you know him," Tara bit back. "It's a small town. You know his entire family. What you don't know is what he is to _me._"

"Gra—"

"I've been helping John Teller through his rehabilitation," Tara announced. "I don't know if you were ever sober enough to notice but he got into an accident recently and I've been helping him get back on his feet. _Literally..._When I was younger Piney...your next door neighbor was the one who looked out for me when you couldn't….when you _wouldn't. _It was _Piney_, not JT. John Teller was just the father of the guy I played with in the park, the man who sat back and let one of his club brothers threaten me when I was thirteen. I didn't owe him a goddamn thing. And Jackson would never ask me to….to….but I did it anyway. I helped him. And until tonight I didn't really know why I did it. I helped John Teller throw his son's birthday party right here at the hospital. I helped him design a birthday present to honor the son he'd lost…the brother Jackson lost. And tonight….I got to witness what family is supposed to be like. I haven't had one in so long…I," Tara rubbed the end of her sleeve under her eye. "…I forgot what it looked like…what it's supposed to _feel _like when a father loves his son…or his _daughter…"_

"I _do _love you, Tara," Arthur told her. "I just di—"

"_Prove it," _Tara challenged. "I'm not settling for words anymore. I stopped letting all the angry…bitter words get to me a long time ago. I won't let you worm your way back with kind ones. You're not talking your way out of this, Arthur. You want me to let you back in?_ Earn it."_

Arthur sat the fork he'd forgotten was in his hand on the table. "I want us to be a family again," he told her. "Tell….just tell me how to fix it...I want to know how to fix _this._"

"I need time," Tara admitted. "And I need _space…._for years I've been on my own…all by myself…in an empty house. You weren't my father. You weren't my roommate. You were just the monster that decided living underneath my bed wasn't good enough. But you're...you're_ sober..._painfully so...You're wide awake and you're _always_ watching me….you're making me breakfast….asking me about my day…trying to play father because _you're _ready. You're suffocating me. You _and _Diane. I'm fine on my own. That's how it's been for _years_. I can't just flip a switch. And I can't figure this out with you looking over my shoulder."

Arthur cleared his throat, wincing as he tried to sit up even straighter. "What can I do to fix that?"

"They have these half-way houses for addicts in recovery," Tara said. "A lot of them make you take a test to make sure you haven't had any drugs in your system in the last thirty days…they make sure the _chip _in your pocket is legit. And then they do random testing throughout your stay there."

Arthur nodded. "Sober living facilities."

"Diane said your doctor recommended a few but you declined," Tara stated. "I want you to _accept. _Di said she'd pay for it if I agreed to dinner as a family three nights a week._"_

"I can pay my own way, Gracie," Arthur said.

Tara smirked. "That's even better," she responded. "Then we can go ahead and make that _two _nights a week. Monday and Friday. You can't make it? You're too busy to _show up _for me? No pushing it off to another day…no carrying it over to next week."

"I can live with that."

Tara was smiling again, but this time there was taunting gleam swirling in the greens of her eyes. She reached inside the Kangaroo pocket of the sweatshirt she wore, pulling the flask she'd taken from Jax from inside. "_Progress,_" she chimed, tilting her head back slightly, she took a nice swig of the whiskey inside, wincing at the liquid burning her throat. "I'll _drink _to that. What about you, Arthur?"

Arthur managed a smirk. "I'm good, Gracie," he said. "I'll _be _good from here on out. I promise, Honey."

"You sure?" Tara taunted, reaching inside the pouch once more. The worn-grey material flattened against her stomach as she pulled the soda bottle from inside. Sitting it on the table next to his cake, she slid it towards him. "I smuggled in some _Old Crow…._your _favorite_."

Arthur's smile faltered. He pushed it back towards her. "Yes, Gracie. I'm sure."

Tara walked around his bed, stopping at his side. Leaning over, she kissed his cheek. "Goodnight, Arthur," she said, walking backwards towards the door. She'd just turned on her heel when his voice rang out behind her.

"You're forgetting this," Arthur said, raising the soda bottle towards her when she turned around to face him.

Tara shook her head, smiling. "That shit tastes disgusting," she told him, turning the door handle, pulling it open. "Pour it out for me, will you?"

Arthur nodded stiffly, eyes flitting towards the dark liquid swishing in the bottle in his hand as soon as the door snapped shut.

Tears slid from his eyes as he finally gathered the courage, found the strength in utter the words.

"_I forgive you, Moira," _Arthur Knowles whispered into the darkness. "_I forgive you for what you did to me….for what you did to _us…._I'm forgiving you….because I need Gracie to forgive _me…._I don't want to lose my daughter…not again…not _for real…_letting you off the hook is the only way I get past this…the only way _we'll _get past this….so I forgive you," _he vowed, sliding down from the hospital bed. He recited the words, the promise to do what he could only hope his daughter would do for him with every step he made towards the bathroom. He muttered the words through every twist of his fingers as he screwed the cap off the bottle. And he swore to live by them as he watched the Bourbon flow down the drain. Blurry-eyes were unwavering as the drain swallowed up every. Last. Tempting. Taunting. Torturing drop of the crutch he'd leaned on ever since his wife took her own life, leaving a scorned, tormented father to make sense of the pieces she left behind.

* * *

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"_Here_," Tara offered, holding the framed watercolor painting out to the seasoned Head of cardiothoracic surgery. "Thanks for this."

Dr. Cassandra "Teddy" Altman waved it off. "You can keep it, Sweetie."

Tara smiled, dropping the picture down to her side. "Tonight was amazing," the teenager gushed. "Jackson loved it. We had so much fun."

"I hear you got caught having a little _too much _fun in one of the on-call rooms up on the surgical floor," Dr. Altman teased, narrowing eyes at her.

Tara giggled, her face turning red. "Umm…well…"

"It's okay," the amused doctor said, winking. "Believe it or not half the time the surgeons her at St. Thomas don't use them to sleep either…._especially the interns."_

Tara's eyes widened. "Yeah?" She smirked. "Now I know where I'll be doing _my _internship."

Dr. Altman ballooned just as hers had, but her surprise wasn't the least bit mocking. "You want to be surgeon?"

Tara nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Ever since Thomas….I can't stop dayreaming about fixing tiny hearts," she admitted quietly.

"A lot of school and training ahead of you," Dr. Altman warned, her tone of voice akin to a school teacher wagging her finger at a disruptive child. "But if you're _really_ dedicated it's worth it in the end. Nothing feels as good as knowing you did everything you could for someone's family…their wife…or daughter…or son….nothing can compare to how it feels when doing everything you could is enough to save their lives."

_"Hi._" Both of them turned their heads to the sound of her voice. Gemma held her hand out to the doctor dressed up in a simple, pretty black dress. "You're Altman, right? The Doc' who helped make all this happen?"

"She also saved JT's life," Tara commented. "And she….she…she did _everything _she could for Tommy."

Gemma's smile didn't reach her eyes but it wasn't the scowl Tara had become accustomed to. Looking towards the visibly uncomfortable doctor, she forced her smile a little further up her face. "Thank you," Gemma said. "I appreciate everything you've done for my family." Then her eyes darted briefly to Tara before adding, "And we appreciate all the favors you probably called in for us to throw my son's birthday party here."

They were a 'we' now? When the Hell did that happen?

Altman timidly returned her smile. "Jackson could use some fun after all he's been through," the doctor replied. "I was more than happy to be a part of it…you'll have to excuse me though…this is my first night off this week. And…well boring as it sounds, I want to head home and get some much needed sleep. _You ladies have a good night. _Tell Jax I said Happy Birthday again."

"I will," Tara promised, waving once more before the woman disappeared around the corner. Tara turned towards Gemma as she felt her gently pulling the picture frame still her in her hand from her fingers.

"My Tommy's picture," Gemma murmured quietly. "Using his photo was your idea..."

Tara nodded at her forehead, as Gemma's eyes were busy studying the familiar three-year old painting. "JT paid for everything," she answered. "He found the guy who do the design and he—"

_"Thank you." _Gemma's voice was thick, moisture Tara hadn't noticed until just then welling up in her eyes when she finally looked up from the photo. "Thank you for honoring my son," she whispered. Tara stood frozen, arms still at her sides as Gemma wrapped her own around her, pulling her into a hug. Moments later, Tara felt the subtle quake, the trembling of yet another Teller using her shoulder to cry on. Finally thawing out just enough to raise her arms, Tara reached around her, awkwardly rubbing her back as the mourning mother sobbed. As she stayed there, shackled in an unexpected embrace Tara couldn't shake the feeling that Gemma Teller wasn't just crying over the son she'd lost three years ago.

She had a feeling her pain had even more to do with the son she spotted gaping at the two of them from over Gemma's shoulder. He was standing next to an equally shocked Opie right in the middle of the hallway.

"Did you enjoy your birthday, Baby?" Gemma had asked, pulling away when she'd finally noticed the two pairs of footsteps approaching.

"Yeah, Ma," Jax answer smiling back at her as he reached up to wipe the tears staining her cheeks. "I wish you would have been a bigger part of it though. I love you, Mom. You're still the best. It's not the same without you stressing over every little detail. I'll admit it. I'm spoiled...and you're the reason they call me _Prince._"

Gemma laughed, once against threatening to restrict her son's airway as she pulled him into a bone-crunching hug, smothering him with all the love he cherished and appreciated even when he didn't show it. Opie rolled his eyes, scratching his beard as he stood awkwardly by during a private Teller mother and son moment. Tara just looked on, smiling at the sixteen year Old mama's boy she loved with all her heart, completely transfixed with how easily the Teller charm worked its magic on his own mother.

And how naïve Jackson was to believe he was just saying what Gemma wanted to hear instead of what he truly felt.

* * *

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_JT snapped the book in his lap shut, leaning over to place it on the end table next to his bed. Purposefully avoiding the death glare she was shooting him, he took his time, patting the blanket tossed over his legs smooth, leaning back over to pull the pen between the book's pages out, sliding it into the breast pocket of the denim, SAMCRO Kutte he was wearing over his T-shirt. "Long time no see," he commented dryly. "You know you have the hospital talking. Wives usually come to visit their ailing husbands."_

_"You've been ignoring him for months," Gemma seethed. "You didn't give a shit about Jackson and now, what? Near death experience got you seeing shit differently? Maybe so but I've always seen him. I never abandoned him. And I never will. So you can play best friends with that girl all you want. It won't matter, John. You'll go right back to being a disappointment."_

_JT smirked. "You stormed in here, attacking me over a birthday party but you couldn't show up to let me know when Jax got arrested for almost beating a man to death? Maybe _you_ need a near death experience, Gem. It might help you get your priorities straight."_

_"You don't have to worry about Jackson anymore," Gemma told him. "I refuse to let let you fuck with me and my family. I don't want you around. You're done twisting him up, confusing him, causing him pain every time you retreat into your pathetic little shell crying over all your failures, about the fact that you don't know how to be a man. When you get out of here, you're free to buy a one-way ticket to Ireland to be with your _whore_. I really don't give a shit what you do honestly. You lost me a long time ago. You're about to lose your _club_, and Jackson isn't yours to lose anymore. He's staying with me," the matriarch announced._

_"You're the strongest woman I've ever met," John told her. "Scrappy as Hell...you never back down from a fight. That's one of the reason I fell for you. You remember the night we met? That drunk trucker and his brothers….broke a vodka bottle over his head…I took out three of them and you handle the other two. Half-drunk, barely standing up straight our damn selves but we still came out on top….I probably loved you right then."_

_"_Yeah_, I remember," Gemma hissed, boredom clear in her expression. "God, you really are a _pussy_. I tell you I'm kicking you out…that I want you out of our son's life and you want to reminisce about the night we met. Should we do shots and think back on our wedding night, too?" _

_JT smiled. "That's right, Gem," he replied. He jabbed a finger against his chest. "He's _our_ son. I helped raised that boy. I raised them _both_. Thomas and Jackson_ Teller_. Not _Morrow._ Jackson is mine. I loved that kid all his life. And I loved Thomas just as much. I don't give a shit what any DNA test results would have told me. That never would have change. You and Rose are proof that biology don't mean _shit_."_

_Gemma smirked, rolled her eyes. "_Noble,_" she mused. "That's one of the few good qualities you actually passed on to him. I can see all the _chivalry..._shining through when he pulled the chair out for his girlfriend…made her plate for her…defended her….yelled at his own mother." The more she talked, the more bitter her words sounded. "….You want to know what _our_ son said to _me?_ The sixteen year old boy that I have pampered and spoiled since he was born screamed for me to _cut my bullshit_ in front of all of his friends. And that…that…._Tara_….I swear he thinks Tara Knowles is a fuckin Angel….so sweet…so perfect and wise…and forgiving…and _understanding._ He told me the only reason he came home at all….the only reason he _bothered_ to show up to the breakfast I spent two hours cooking for his ungrateful ass….he said he came because she _begged_ him to…because she told him he should….ran off into the kitchen, whispering with her….came back five minutes later….kissed me on the cheek….telling me he wants me to come _with_ them to the Fun Town..…eyes couldn't even stay on my face…kept looking back at her like _she's_ the mother and he's the son trying to make her proud. I gotta tell you, John. You almost lost another son this morning. And all because of some teenage pussy he was probably nose deep in the night before."_

_JT flashed his wife a wry smile. "_Tara's not pussy_," he stated, shaking his head. "And you know that or you wouldn't be so damn pissed off about it. You better be careful how you navigate this, Gem. That girl's got a soft spot for fierce mothers…mothers who love their children with all they have. You're as fierce and loving as they come, Baby. But pretty soon Tara's going to stop defending you. That emptiness she feels from the loss of her own mother? She's going to stop looking to you to fill the void."_

_"That girl doesn't want shit from me," Gemma sneered. "And that's lucky for her because I don't have shit to give her."_

_"They call you the_ matriarch,"_ JT told her. "You're a maternal figure even when you're not trying to be. Tig….Kozik…Hap and all the other guys, too….then theirs that Wendy girl I hear you been letting stay with you at the house….and we can't forget about _Diane_….her niece is no different. Even if tough love is all you've got for them, they crave it all the same. Everybody needs a mother. Sometimes we're not blessed enough to have one from birth…sometimes we look for it in other people."_

_"Sounds like you've been working on the intro for my mother of the year award ceremony," Gemma snarked. _

_"You've been a shitty wife," JT stated. "A horrible…scheming…manipulative…disloyal Old lady. But I could never deny that you've always been a good mother…that there are so many _good_ parts of you that I've spent years overlooking the bad."_

_"This the part where you tell me Jackson's old enough to understand that _mommy and daddy don't love each other the way they used to?_" Gemma smirked. "You and I were over a long time ago. I don't need a heart to heart. I already decided I'm done with this shit. I would think my absence the entire time you've been wheeling around this hospital made that clear. I'm only nurturing one Teller from here on out and it's not you. Kozy seems to think we need to settle this shit between us. I'm already settled. You got something you want to get off your chest? Go ahead…I'll even let you have the final word. It's the least I could do," Gemma taunted, nodding her head towards the book on the table beside him. "When it's all over, your words are all you'll have left, Johnathan."_

_"_It was the night after my accident_," JT murmured. "Or maybe it was two days after…or three…or four. Maybe only a few _hours_ had passed. It was hard to tell….I was just lying there…felt like that semi-truck was still on top of me…. I couldn't move….couldn't open my eyes…couldn't form the words I needed to speak even if the tube down my throat would let me….I was lying there...broken….bruised and weak…..helpless….I couldn't raise a hand to save my own life….but somehow my ears worked just fine. I could_ hear,_ Gemma….I heard my son talking to me….telling me how angry he was….I swear it's like the morphine stopped working….all the pain that should have been numbed came back worse than it was before…because I couldn't sit up and tell him…I couldn't correct him….all I could do was lay there while my first born son told me he didn't think I loved him anymore…that I was leaving him behind because….because my _club_ was all I still cared about…"_

_"He _begged_ me, Gem," JT said, tears shining in his eyes. "He begged me to get through it…to fight hard because he needed his father….that was first time Jackson told me he loved me since….I don't even know when…he told me he wanted me to try harder and I wanted to….I _needed_ to tell him that I would…that I needed him, too….that I loved him….I needed my son to know I loved him and that I was fighting to stay here with him but I couldn't speak…so I _thought_ it….I thought about what I would say to him the first chance I could…I was thinking about all the things he needed to hear when I heard Clay's voice…..when I heard Jackson ask him what was in the _syringe_ he dropped on the floor….the needle I heard roll underneath my bed…the nurse's voice came next…I guess my _wife_ didn't approve visitation for anyone but our son….What made you change your mind, Gem? Was it _Jackson_? Did you finally realize how much it would kill him to lose another person that he loved? You come in here and tell me you're taking him away now so I don't know what to think, Gemma. All I know is that you saved my life."_

_Gemma shook her head, her face blank. "I don't know what you're talking about."_

_"_Altman cleared me to go home,_" JT announced. "I have _Tara_ to thank for that. Tara and all my brothers...the men who _never_ left my side, whose loyalty never wavered no matter Clay's done. Or_ you._ Jax was walking out the door…he was giving Clay a _moment with his Old man_….it would have been my final moment. I would have died without ever getting the chance to tell my son I loved him…that I never _stopped_ loving him no matter what a shitty father I'd been since he lost his brother. I have _you_ to thank, too, Gemma. You are the gift that never stops giving. If it wasn't for you I wouldn't be alive…..but if it wasn't for you I wouldn't be sitting where I am right now. In spite of all your sins….all your….your lies and your schemes...in the moment of truth you gave me another shot to do things different. _That's why I'm going to give you that same shot._ You're right, Gem. Jackson's old enough to understand."'_

_The accusation, the unspoken betrayal—she let it hang in the air between them. _

_She didn't deny it._

_Instead Gemma finally sat down in the chair next to his bed. She nodded once. "You and your _big picture shit_," the fierce mother mused. "What's your plan now, John?"_

_"I leased a house out in Bakersfield," he told her. "Three bedroom, two and a half baths. It's got a real nice dining room and kitchen. Two car garage, huge backyard….could even fit a pool back there…I think Jax would like that. Him and Opie could throw pool parties, invite all their friends…and girlfriends. It's got a built in grill, too."_

_"Sounds nice," Gemma admitted. A genuine smile slowly spread across her face._

_It didn't last long._

_Gemma's smile vanished, quickly as it came when her husband reached inside the pocket of his jacket, holding his hand out seconds later to offer her the key he'd pulled from inside it._

* * *

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"_Stahl!" _Robert Kohn barked, banging his fist against the front door. He alternated between the doorbell and the knocker and his own knuckles, growing more frustrated the long he waited. "STAHL! I know you're in there you lying _bitch_! I'll wake up every fuckin neighbor on your block if you don't let me in. I called your boss! You didn't submit Barbara's plea deal! Her and Lowell signed all your bullshit statements and you didn't follow through with your end of the bargain! I should have never left you alone with them. Not for a fuckin second. _STAHL_! You better open this FUCKIN"—Robert kicked the door hard, the wood splintered, the door creaked on its hinges in sync with the word, "DOOR!" itself. Storming in, he stomped through the house headed straight for the only room with a light on, stopping short as he took in the sight of her, splayed out against her computer chair, blood seeping into the striped collar shirt she wore, dripping on the floor from the bullet wound between her eyes. "_Jesus Christ," _the FBI agent hissed, pulling his gun from the holster on his waist.

After a thorough scope of the premises, he called it in praying the whole while that the lack of files or any papers on the desk, and the shattered computer didn't mean his sister's sworn statement was taken by whoever killed the dead agent in the room where he stood.

If it did, that meant Lowell Junior_ and_ Senior's statements were taken, too. By the same people. People who would have no problem killing a couple rats if murdering a federal agent didn't scare them.

And worst of all, it meant that Barbara Harland's deal died with the woman who was way too fuckin treacherous to sign it as she'd agreed—which meant her and her family were rats who no longer qualified for the witness protection they'd need once whoever stole the files read everything they'd confessed.

* * *

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"Are you sure about this?" Donna asked. She brought a palm up to his face, searching for any trace of doubt in the hazel eyes staring back at her. "I know this is what you've wanted your whole life but—"

"Are _you _sure about this?" Opie countered. He grabbed both her hands, lacing their fingers together. "I need to know you're with me, Donna. I need to know that you believe me…that you _trust me. _I need to know that I can trust _you. _That you're gonna be there. That you're done running...because my mind is made up. I know what I want. Clay's agreed to sponsor me….None of the guys would go against Piney but I know they'll at least vote me in. The semester's over in a few weeks. That's it for me. After New Years….I'll be dropping you to school by yourself. I need to know you can handle that. That you don't need some other asshole to walk you to class since I won't be there to do it."

"I _love_ you, Opie," Donna answered. "I want this. Whatever this is…whatever you feel you have to do…I'm with you, okay? No more running off. I promise."

Opie smiled, that same grin brushing against hers as he kissed her, pulling back only to peer in her eyes as he told her, "I love you, too….and one day soon, you're gonna wear my crow…..I'm gonna make you my Old lady, Baby."

Donna scoffed, holding the back of her left hand up in his face. "A tattoo better not be the _only _thing I'm getting."

Opie laughed, bumping his forehead with hers before bending his knees, picking her up, tossing her over his shoulder. Donna squealed and giggled the whole trip down the Hall to the Club Reaper dorm room he couldn't wait to tag as his own. He would do it soon enough. Who was there to stop him?

It's not like Jax wanted it.

* * *

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Diane rubbed the cold from her eyes as she shut the bathroom door behind her. Raising her arms to stretch before sitting, she accidentally knocked the roll of tissue Duncan (as usual) forgot to put back on the built-in rod on the wall into the toilet. Wrinkling her nose as she pulled it from the bowl, she tossed it in the trash, squatting down in front of the bathroom's bottom cabinets, opening the one directly in front of her, in search of a fresh roll.

She opened the double doors, flinching back when an avalanche of papers and folders fell from the box that had been stuffed inside, cascading around her feet. They were all legal documents. She recognized her name, a nine year old mug shot and photos of her and her former better half in crime from when they were still high school delinquents raising Hell. She noticed the brown folder labeled _Stahl, FYEO _on the front of it. It was the folder June Stahl had been holding when she'd approached her at the hospital earlier that day. It was also one of four folders she could tell so far that had spots of red that looked a lot like dried blood splattered all over them.

What the fuck were Stahl's files doing hidden underneath Duncan's bathroom sink?

And more importantly, why was she rushing to put them all back except one? She put them back. All but the one she tucked under her arm, the one she tiptoed towards her work bag to slide inside of it while her husband slept, the one with all the details of Padraic Telford—details she might not want to know…if she didn't know already.

* * *

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"I swear to _God_, Lowell," Wendy griped, shaking her head at the goofy smile on his face. "If you say _I had a good time tonight _I _will _push you off this porch."

Lowell snickered. "Why? Is it a crime to have fun with your—"

"Ugh. Don't say it." Wendy squeezed her eyes shut.

_"Girlfriend," _Lowell finished anyway. "I already agreed to your conditions. No pet names….no kissing you goodbye every time I walk you to class…no spoon-feeding you anything as long as you have your own hands…No _drugs…._No more hanging out with your mom_…_No lecturing you about how much weed _you _smoke….No _promising you shit…_and no playing in your hair—"

"_And _no cheesy one-liners out of a shitty romantic comedies," Wendy amended. "You trying to do the whole _doorstep moment. _I do not accept that._"_

Lowell pursed his lips, cocking an eyebrow at her. "I can't tell you I had a good time?"

"If you have to _tell _me you're full of shit anyway," Wendy argued, shrugging. "I should already know, right?"

"You know what, Wendy?" Lowell stepped closer to her, grabbing her waist. "I _hated _spending time with you tonight….I _hated _getting on all those rides with you…sharing my food—_which basically meant taking _two_ bites before you ate the rest of it—"_

"Hey!" Wendy grabbed his hand, sliding it down to her ass. "How do you think I got _this?"_

Lowell snickered, his cheeks reddening. "You want to know what else I _hate_?" He pulled back, pulling something from the back pocket of his jeans. He stepped back, holding it out to her as he told her, "I really _hate _this picture of you holding onto me when you got scared when the rollercoaster dropped…..probably should have listened when you told me not to buy it…"

Wendy gaped at the photo or her burying her cheesing face in his chest, holding onto him life he had a parachute and the ride was malfunctioning. "How did you…I was standing right…I was—"

"You were by my side the _whole_ day." Lowell winked at her. "I _hated _that part, too. Good thing Jax needed a favor from me, too. I got his with Tara. And then they went back and got ours."

"I'm gonna punch him in the throat when I see him," Wendy said, losing the battle to hide her smile.

"Can you do it tomorrow?" Lowell asked, wrapping his arms around her again. "I'm not done telling you all the things I hate….like _you…_I _hate—"_

Both teenagers flinched at the sound of glass shattering, the thud of something hitting the ground. Turning towards the front door, Wendy twisted the knob, quickly entering the Teller household with Lowell right on her heels.

Gemma was in the middle of the living room—sitting on the hardwood floor. Surrounded by the broken frames of the picture that had fallen from the box in her lap. It was only one of many. Boxes littered the entire living room floor. There was also a suitcase. And a fancy, lace-garnished box with the lid half-way off to reveal quite the arsenal of handguns. Sighing at the defeated look in Gemma's eyes as she stared down at the shattered frame in her hand, Wendy wordlessly made her way towards the kitchen. She came back with a broom—and a dustpan that Lowell gently took from her hand. The two of them worked together in silence—through the thickness in the air that was absent of sound save for the choked off hiccups of the drunk woman sitting in the middle of the room...on the floor, staring at a photograph of her family—a wife, her loving husband and their two beautiful sons.

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_"_Jackson is staying with me_," JT declared. "We're staying in _my_ house…the one I paid for. The lease on the duplex is for sixteen months. All your rent and expenses will be paid up until then. I'd never leave you stranded, Gem. I'm gonna give you a chance to figure out what your next move is. But until you figure it out? Clay is not to step foot in that house. Especially when my son is around. You're still _my_ Old lady, and you're going to act accordingly until you're footing your own bills. Now…." John Teller sat up straight, pinned his wife with the conviction in the glare slowly forming on his face. "This is the part where I need to make myself clear, Baby. I know how easy it for you _tune out_ what people say, change their words to suit _your_ best interests. That's why I need you to _focus_, Gemma. Hear me clearly because I'm only going to say this to you once...Jackson Nathaniel Teller is _my_ son…..and I will kill _anyone_ that tries to take him from me. _Even you_. You're not exempt anymore. Any compassion I had for you died when I found out you and my former Sargent at Arms tried to kill me. And not for the first time either...Jax knows it wasn't a suicide. He's been asking questions and sooner or later I'm going to give him some answers. Those answers don't have to include _you_. This isn't about us. This isn't about _me_ either. It's about our son….it's about a _mother's_ work. It's about protecting him. He still needs you. He still needs to believe his mother's not a selfish monster that would murder her own son's father. But he needs me, too. And right now he needs me more than he needs you because I'm going to make sure he doesn't have to suffer any of the turmoil I've felt leading the life we've lived. Jackson has his own dreams, Gem. And I'm going to give him a chance to figure out what they are whether you like it or not. I _will not_ let you poison him."_

_Gemma jumped up, leaning over, lip curling up to one side as she glowered at the man sitting in the hospital bed. _"You really expect me to just walk away?"_ Gemma challenged. "That's not the woman you married," she told him. "The burden of proof is on you, Darlin. And you have _none_. Clay? _Sure_. You can probably convince your brothers. But you'll never convince_ my _son__. And you know what? I welcome you to _try._ I'm innocent," Gemma said, sneering. "And even if I wasn't…._I'm not the only one with secrets that'll break his heart."

_"You're _innocent?_" JT chuckled. "That line might have worked if you hadn't already tried to convince his _Godfather_ that my accident was attempted suicide. It might have worked if he hadn't found out you've been fuckin the guy who snatched up the gavel before the EMT's rolled me into the ER. Y__ou're right I've got secrets, too, Gemma. But none of them could ever hurt him worse than losing his mother."_

_Gemma's eyes widened. "Are you—"_

_"_Threatening_ you?" JT finished for her. His smile was the very definition of steel. Hard and cold as ice. "You look surprised, Gemma. Why is that? Isn't that the ruthless outlaw you married? The one you lost when he couldn't stop crying over the loss of his child? Jackson will meet his sister when the time is right. I'll tell him about the _love_ of my life when the time is right. _I'm_ the one that gets to decide that, not you. Please don't make me hurt you, Gem. I loved you once. I don't want us to end like that."_

_JT frowned as he watched the color drain from her face. "You lied to me," Gemma half-whispered, shaking her head. "You abandoned your family….I….I was—"_

_"_You were in Clay's bed _before_ I went to Belfast,_" JT barked, scowling. "Don't you dare try to manipulate me…..I already lost a son…._twice._ The first time was when you told me he wasn't mine. I didn't love _you_ anymore...but you _knew_ how much I love my sons. You found the one way you could hurt me for changing….for not being the man you married…you knew just where to aim…and you've been twisting the knife ever since then. All those nights I spent sitting up in his room…Book in my hand…watching him fall to sleep half-way through his bedtime story….wondering if it was true….or if you were just saying it to hurt me. I thought about getting tested to see….to know for sure….to put all the doubt to rest….Then he got sick again and I realized I didn't give a shit if it was my blood running through his veins or _Clay's._ Thomas was _my_ son. And I would love him regardless. The only thing knowing the truth would change was how much I _hated_ you. Finding out you were lying might have been the one thing that fixed us. I lost my son…then when I decided he was mine no matter what…just like that I had him back. He was mine again…and then you took him….from me…..again. And this time it was the family curse…_your_ family…Your family's heart disease took Thomas away from me again. That's _twice_ you took him from me. I will _not_ lose another son. Not to the life we've been living….to the life you're not willing to give up. I'll do whatever I have to do to protect Jackson. Even if its from his own mother."_

_Gemma was trembling, actually shaking his bed as she unconsciously moved to sit at the edge of it, glaring at him with tears in her eyes that he knew she'd never let him see fall. "He won't believe you," she hissed through clenched teeth. _

_"You really want to bet the only family you've got left on what _my_ son believes?" JT challenged quietly. "What about what the _club_ believes about you?" Several minutes later JT cleared his throat through the strained silence, nudging her knee with his foot as he slowly swung his legs off the bed, reaching for the crutches next to it. Reflexively, Gemma's arms gripped his shoulders as he swayed slightly. Smiling at her, JT bared all his weight on his good foot, leaning over just enough to lightly press his lips to her cheek. The kiss did more damage than any knife ever could. It was complacent. Sympathetic, yet wholly Dismissive. "You should stick around," he told his wife, hobbling past her. "The fun's about to start."_

_Gemma blinked at the sound of the room door snapping shut. She made her way inside the private bathroom, staring at her own haunting regret through the reflection in the mirror as she ran her hands underneath the water of the automatic sink, massaging soap into the skin of her palms, cleansing them of all the dirt, all the blood and grime that antiseptic could possibly wash away. Pulling off a paper towel, she dried her hands with it, then used the corner of it to dab at the lone tear that had managed to make its escape. _

_When she left the bathroom, her mask was firmly in place. _

_She still had the same sway in her hips as her heels click-clacked along the hospital linoleum. Gemma's stature didn't betray an ounce of the fear or regret she felt as she made her way towards the elevator. As she got out on the Main lobby floor, walking past the spot she'd collapsed several weeks before. Gemma Teller, the falling Queen of Bikers was her usual blend of superiority—of pride and confidence as her eyes followed the trail of women who'd been ignoring her phone calls all morning to the hospital cafeteria. It wasn't her party, and she wasn't going to cry._

_Not even if she wanted to._

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Jax bit back a curse, wincing as Tara prodded the fresh cut above his eye with the rubbing alcohol soaked-cotton swab in her hand. "You ever hear of _peroxide? _Jesus."

"You and Opie ever hear of using your _words?" _Tara giggled when he swatted her hand away before realizing she'd moved on to the painless part of playing Doctor Knowles—the healing ointment. "What the Hell were you fighting about anyway?"

Jax smiled coyly at her. "We're brothers," he replied, shrugging. "We fight about stupid shit all the time. Doesn't matter. What matters is we finally had it out."

Tara nodded. "Are you two okay now?"

Jax kissed her, a quick peck on the lips before she could move past him to finish putting the first aid kit away. "I think so…..But you know what? I think _I_ deserve better than just okay...It is my birthday, you know."

Tara shook her head, smirking. "Your birthday's over Jax. It ended two hours ago."

"Maybe so." Jax shrugged, smiling. "You still owe me my gift though."

Tara rolled her eyes. "Gift, gift, gift. You're so damn spoiled. And _greedy. _Who the Hell asks for a whole cake for their birthday?"

"Somebody that doesn't like sharing," Jax retorted, pinching her ass. "What flavor did you get me?"

Tara sighed, walking off. "Let's go, _Sumo._ Come find out."

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"Try it," Tara beckoned, waving her hand towards the two-layer vanilla bean flavored cake with confetti, vanilla frosting she'd bought him from the bakery.

Jax took the knife from her hand, sitting it down on the plate she'd taken out for him. Eyes locked with hers, he swiped his hand across the top of the cake, dipping it into the frosting, licking the creamy goodness clean from his fingers as she watched. "Tastes alright."

"That cake cost me forty bucks," Tara huffed, folding her arms across her chest. "It better be fuckin delicious."

"It _will _be," Jax promised. Then he reached for her waist, sitting her up on the dining room table. Yanking her shirt over head in one swift motion, he took another dip into the frosting, circling each of her nipples with it before dipping his head to suck all of it off, rubbing some more over the pulse jumping at her throat when Tara threw her head back, arching into his mouth. "_Told you," _he teased, breathing against the skin of her collarbone. "_Taste fuckin delicious."_

Tara's giggle was strangled by the moan fighting its way up her throat as he slid her shorts down past her thighs. "This what you wanted the cake for? I could have just bought you a tub of icing you know…."

"Weren't you paying attention to me, Babe?" Jax sucked her bottom lip into her mouth as she tugged at the hem of his shirt, settling for scaling her nails up and down the taut abs of his stomach when he wouldn't budge. "I know I made it a little hard to focus but I said it more than once. You asked me what I wanted for my birthday—"

"And you said you wanted a cake_," _Tara stated, incredulous laughter shining through her voice.

Jax shook his head, the first hint of the blonde whiskers framing his mouth tickling her chin as he pulled back to meet the dazed expression on her face. "Lay back," he instructed, pushing against her shoulders as he spun her around until she was flat on her back across the table. Towering over her naked body, he reached above her head, coating his fingers with rainbow sprinkle-vanilla icing. Hand hovering over her face, he lightly pressed his middle finger against her lips, dotting them with tiny drops of frosting. Mouth melting into hers, he swallowed her moan as he ran his icing-coated fingers up and down her slit, swirling it around her, mixing it with the natural sweetness he'd developed a bizarre craving for ever since the first time, chuckling in triumph against her mouth as she rocked forward into the skilled ministration of sticky-sweet fingers.

"_Jackson," _Tara gasped as he slowly kissed his way down her body, until his lips finally met with the fingers stroking her clit. "You said you….you said—"

"I said I wanted to have my cake," Jax spread her lips, his favorite pair with his fingers, flicking his tongue lightly against her throbbing bud, "and _eat it, _too." Gripping her ass, he lifted her up, licking her hard as she thrashed and screamed, sucking hard on her clit, diving his tongue in and out of even when all the icing was gone. And when it was all gone, he simply reached up over the panting brunette's head for more and worked his way back down again. Jackson Teller had his cake. He got to eat it all night, too. And when he was finished, Tara Knowles took him for a ride with more thrills than the whole fuckin amusement park. And his bike. Fuck, even the brand new Harley parked in her driveway couldn't measure up. Tara got back on the carousel just for him. She rode him even harder than that fuckin pony.

His birthday wasn't over.

Not yet.

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**This was a neck-cramper for sure.**

Let me know ALL of what you think. Gotta about two or three different paths to choose going forward. I swear I write like little kids build with those damn lego blocks I'm always hurting my damn foot on, walking through the hallway in the middle of the night. Scattered as all Hell. I appreciate those weighing in on here though and on Facebook. I know all the drama coming up in these last (8) chapters. I just need to write the damn thing. By the time I reach the big **CH75** I hope you'll be satisfied with the stories conclusion.

But for Now...

**|REVIEW|**

Feed V-Crow with all your thoughts, yo!


	75. Chapter 68

**A/N: **Consider THIS chapter the slow rise to the top of a roller-coaster. The drop is coming after this one folks. Break-neck speed from here on out. After this, the story really becomes more SOA ensemble (like the show) than J&amp;T love story. Hope I don't lose any of you in all the drama. If something confuses you, message me &amp; I'll try to get back to you asap. Otherwise, please continue to sound off in the review section (or via P/M).

**FYI: **_UnemployedBee_ you asked for a [DISCLAIMER] so I'm giving it to you one chapter **early**. All the characters have similar demons as I'm sure you've noticed with the recurring themes like parents/siblings drama, abandonment issues, etc. I can tell most of you figured out what happened with Diane as well, so just a heads up, I'll be delving into that as well as other darker themes going forward.

This will be my **last** A-Note for the remaining chapters, but I'm enjoying interacting with you guys on Facebook [slash] VeritableOldLadyCrow so add me on there if you want. I've been posting little teasers and questions on FB &amp; the responses have really helped with the writing process. Anyway, I've **REALLY **enjoyed escaping reality on here with you guys so **HUGE **thanks to you all. I sincerely believe you've made me a better writer :-) [&amp; Big kudos to _elbewoods, _who has talked me down from the ledge when it came to this story more than once without even knowing]

**\- Lanae (AKA V. Lady Crow)**

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_I'll be your groupie, Baby,_

_'Cause you are my superstar,_

_I'm your number one fan,_

_Give me your autograph,_

_Just sign it right here on my heart..._

\- Usher

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**_FIVE WEEKS LATER…._**

Tara looked up from her textbook, dropping the pen she'd been tapping against it between the pages at the sound of knocking. Walking towards the other side of her bedroom, she pulled the window up, smiling down at the handsome blue-eyed boy below it. "What are you doing here?" she asked him, moving aside so he could throw his legs over.

"I missed you, _too,_ Knowles," Jax answered, narrowing his eyes at her as he reached for her face. The quick kiss he greeted her with was almost chaste, him grabbing a handful of her ass as he did so not so much. Jax walked past her, kicking his sneakers off before making himself comfortable, propped up against the headboard of her bed.

Tara barely reached the foot of her bed in time, catching the textbook and stack of papers he'd almost kicked to the floor just before everything went flying. Jesus, he was getting even taller. "I thought you were going to the clubhouse to hang out with Opie_," _Tara commented. Jax shrugged, smiling up at her as she approached the other side of the bed. Tara frowned, noting how it wasn't even close to reaching the false nonchalance in his eyes. "Are you planning on answering me?"

"Opie left yesterday," Jax answered finally. He shrugged his shoulders again, but the feigned indifference wasn't any more convincing than his first attempt. "He went to Nevada with the guys. Based on what he told _Chasity _and _Donna _it sounds like a patch over party. Clay and most of the guys are gone. When I rode over to Reaper, the only people still there were Koze' and Padraic."

"What?" Tara smirked. "They too busy to play a few rounds of pool with you?"

She'd meant it as a joke.

He didn't take it as such.

Jax angled his body towards her, moving back a few spaces. "Am I disturbing you or something?" he asked, frowning.

"Of course not!" Tara shook her head fast. "Why would you even ask that?"

There he was shrugging again. "Debbie put me on the schedule for tomorrow," Jax told her randomly. "I was hoping she'd call and give me extra hours. It would give me an excuse to skip this bullshit mother-son dinner you roped me into again."

"_Jax." _Tara sighed.

"She's a fuckin mess," Jax complained, scowling. "Every time we go over there, she's always drunk…or high…or _both. _Or if we're lucky she's just hung over from getting high and drowning herself in Tequila the night before."

"Your dad threw her out of the house," Tara reminded him gently. She sat the textbook in her lap on her nightstand before sliding closer to him. "You even said it yourself….The club…the other Old Ladies….everyone's treating her differently. She's not…she's not _herself _right now and as much as I hate the old her, the new her is….well it's _sad, _Jax...and this is coming from the girl she choked out a few months ago…..I just don't get why you don't…I mean, I know she messed up, Jackson but people make mistakes all the time. We're _human. _The drama with your mom and dad? That should be for them to work out. You shouldn't be picking a side, not in _this. _And you don't even know their whole story. You don't know if—"

"I _know _she's been cheating on my dad with that dickhead Clay," Jax fumed, glaring. "That's enough information for me. After that disrespect, JT _should _have kicked her out."

"She's your _mom, _Jackson." Tara frowned. "No matter what she did to betray your dad, she didn't—"

"Betray_ me," _Jax finished, waving her off. "You know what, Tara? Forget I even brought it up. I'm really not in the mood to fight about this shit again. You want to sit across a dinner table with that woman? Fine. I'm on board. You already guilted me into it. All I want to do right now is spend some time with _you_ before I have to go back home to an empty house. Can I do that?"

Tara smiled. "Sure," she replied. "I was actually going over the material for the winter courses I'm taking in January. Feel like quizzing me?"

Jax groaned, looking down at the textbook that was once again in her hand. "Didn't I quiz you on that already?" He grumbled. "Babe, I know I said I'd get my grades up and I _know _how much of a nerd you are but seriously….now that Opie is prospecting I never get to see him. And lately when we're together all you do is study. I spend more time in the library than in your bedroom and that's when I'm not at work. Usually I have Wendy to fall back on but she's always with Lowell. Do you need me to say it? Fine, I'll say it. _I miss my girlfriend. _Where the Hell did you go?"

"I think I spoiled you with all the excitement before," Tara mused, smiling at him. Jax brought the hand he used to brush her hair back to her face, brushing his knuckles lightly against her lips, forcing the image that immediately popped into his head from his mind when Tara kissed his fingers, lightly nipping one of them. "You know I love you. And you know I love _being _with you but I can't get drunk every night and party at the clubhouse until three in the morning. And when the new semester starts you can't either. Not if you mean what you said about doing better in school. You're going to get your grades up. I _know _you can and you will but, Jackson…I need to _keep _my grades up. At the end of the semester….after my accident…and getting suspended for fighting…riding out to Vegas that weekend to fuck with Opie…celebrating him getting sponsored…by the end I was playing catch up—_and I see the look on your face, _No, Jax. I'm not blaming _you. _My grades were still good but my GPA dropped. I can't get _good _grades. I have to be the _best._ Scholarships are my only hope of being able to go to a good college and my grades have to be _perfect. _I gotta focus, Baby." Tara slid her hand underneath his shirt, mischief twinkling in her eyes when she added, "_I can't let the fact that I'm dating a future Calvin Klein underwear model distract me."_

Jax chuckled, pulling the hand scaling up and down his taut abdomen to his thigh where he laced her fingers with his. "You were always the best," he told her. "You still are. I guess I just didn't realize how much time and work you put into it. You make it look like you don't have to try."

"I try," Tara assured him. "I try _really _fuckin hard. And…well school was the only thing I had going on before. And with my dad being the way he was…a shot at a better future…one that was as far away from here as possible was all I had to keep me going…"

"_Doctor Tara G. Knowles," _Jax drawled, shaking his head in amusement at the way her eyes lit up. "I'm dating a future hotshot….a _pediatric surgeon_." Jax's smile faltered as he looked down at the joining of their hands. "….I got no fuckin idea who _you're _dating, Babe."

Tara pressed her fingers underneath his chin, lifting his face to meet the playful gleam in her eyes. "Jackson the shoe salesman?"

Jax rolled his eyes. "I'd prefer shoe _hustler," _he corrected, scoffing. "But yeah, I guess that's my present…for now."

Tara nodded. "What's your _future?"_

"I don't know, Tara." Jax shook his head, any trace of his smile vanishing. "If you asked me that three years ago…or any year before that I don't have to tell you what the answer would have been. My future was—"

_"SAMCRO."_

Jax nodded, his frown deepening. "That's the future I've been planning…or _not _planning for my whole life. There was no grade requirement. I didn't need a degree or even a _diploma. _All I needed was a Harley and a Kutte."

"Yes," Tara agreed, turning towards him completely. "But now you have options, Jackson."

"_Right_." The answering smile forming on his face didn't lighten his expression a tick. "Option A was joining the club. Prospecting and then a few years down the line, take the gavel and the seat at the head of the table with Opie at my right side the way we were born to do. I chose _Option B_. I said _fuck you _to the family that helped raised me and got a job at the mall. I figure with some miracle you can help me catch up fast enough to graduate high school before I'm twenty. Then I can sign up for classes at Charming Community….maybe make manager at the store by the time I'm thirty."

Tara shook her head, reaching for both his hands. "You can get into a good college," she urged. "Everybody fucks up their freshman year. We're sophomores. I'll be taking summer classes so I can finish early. You can use this summer to catch up. I can help you, Jackson. If you work hard you'll be at University _with _me. That's one of the many perks of dating a know-it-all, remember?"

Jax shrugged. "What if I don't _want _that?" He asked her. "Just because I didn't jump at the chance to prospect for the club doesn't mean I want to be a scholar either. What If college isn't my thing? What if I just want to be a mechanic, work at Teller-Morrow with Lowell and his Dad? Or keep working at the mall. Is that going to be enough for _Doctor Knowles?"_

"Jackson—"

"But then I guess that'll be fine since one of us will have to quit our jobs to stay at home with the kids so you'll—"

"_Whoah, Jax_," Tara jumped up from the bed, holding one hand up towards him, the other clutching her chest. "Believe me, Baby. If this were any other time I would _love _that you're even _thinking _about a future with me….with a big house and a minivan full of kids….but you're freaking out on me right now...what's wrong?"

"You want to know something, Tara?" Jax looked down at the bed. "….Riding my bike...zipping through the highway at ninety miles an hour…that's the _only _peace I get now a days. All the shit with my mom…walking away from the club….all of that melts away. I'm not just out on the road…I'm _in_ it. It's the only time I can shut my mind down completely. It's like this…this _rush…_my only focus is on what's right in front of me. It's liberating….it's soothing…..it's _you." _Jax looked up, finally meeting her emerald gaze. "When I'm with you nothing else matters. And when I'm not with you, it's the same feeling every time I lay my Harley down on the kickstand. I can't wait to get back to you. But lately it's like…every time you fall asleep first….or you're buried in homework or studying or some book you read was recommended for a course you want to take. Tara….when I thought I was going to be SAMCRO….just the _idea _of that…counting down the years…the days until Gemma would stop with the bullshit, pretending high school mattered and let me drop out. Waiting to be a SON? To not just rock the T-shirts or the belt or the blue beanie I wore when I was three…just _waiting _for it to finally happen was liberating. I didn't _have _to wonder about my future."

"You're sixteen years old," Tara responded. Jax slid down to meet her where she sat at her foot of her bed. "You still have plenty of time to plan your future. We can plan one together."

"There's nothing for you to plan, Tara." Jax shook his head. "You already have everything figured out. You're only challenge now is figuring out where _I _fit in…_if _I fit in."

Tara's eyes widened. "Of course you fit in," she urged. "I _want _you to fit in."

"You didn't _want_ me to join the club," Jax said simply. "You _want_ me study and get good grades. You _want_ me to spent time with my mother and ignore the fact that she betrayed my father. When I was on my mother's side and I hated my Old man you _wanted_ me to hear him out. You _want_ me to be this…this _person. _I don't know who the Hell he is. This road I'm on? It keeps leading back to you. But it doesn't feel like it's about _us. _Somehow it's all about what _you _want. Before it was what Gemma wanted...what I _thought _JT wanted. And now it's you. And I can't even bitch about it not being my choice because when the ball's in my court and I got no idea what the fuck to do with it, I'm the one that keeps passing it back to other people."

_"I don't know what you want me to say," _Tara mumbled, chewing her bottom lip.

"_Old ladies_ and _croweaters_," Jax mused. "The woman of the SAMCRO world….they all have a role to play. They suck dick and pull beers. They host pancake breakfasts and learn how to keep their faces blank when the Feds come knocking. The Old ladies? It doesn't matter if they have a wedding band on their finger. Whatever _fuckin _happens on a run, is just what it is. What they don't see isn't supposed to hurt them. The croweaters are for the club's pleasure and the wives at home deal with it because the only vows that matter to the men they're married to...the men who tattooed their crows on them...the only _people _they're one hundred percent loyal to are the brothers they share a patch with. The club comes first. And the woman in their lives…their _Queens…_they hold them down and settle for second place because it's the best they're going to get."

Tara wrinkled her nose, disapproval clear in her expression. "It's digusting."

"_I get it now,_" Jax admitted. "I didn't before. I always just brushed it off. To me it was just _the life. _I get it now. I see why you always make faces…why there's always pity or anger in your eyes when you look at them. I get why you would never want to be Gemma. I know you deserve better than that, Babe. But this isn't some random moment of clarity. It's like I'm learning it first hand and I swear it's starting to feel like the lesson is never going to stop."

Tara's eyebrows threaded together. "Jackson….You're losing me, Baby. What are you talking about?"

"_I don't know what I want, Tara," _Jax confessed. "I don't know what I want _except _you. I want to be with you. I want their to always be an _us _but that's as far as I've got. And you're gonna get pissed at me for saying this but that's not enough. _I'm not a fuckin Old Lady. _My life can't revolve around you. Present _or _Future. I need more than just…_this."_

Tara's eyes darkened. She slid away from him, moving her hand off the bed when he placed his on top of hers. "So what?" Tara barked, sudden anger glittering in her eyes. "You want me to say _fuck you _to college? Forget all about Med school so I can stay here and be _your _Old Lady while you join the family gun running business?"

"_Jesus,"_ Jax hissed, sliding closer to her. He grabbed her arm, pulling her to stand in front of him when she jumped up from the bed. "I just told you, I _know_ you deserve more than that."

"_And you deserve more than life as a criminal_!" Tara growled. "You're right, Jackson. This isn't about us. But it's not about me either. This is about _you. _This is _all _about you, Baby. You can't put this on me. You want me to lie and say I'm not happy about you walking away from the club? _I can't. _You want me to convince to change your mind? I can't do that either. And you know what? It _doesn't. _matter. I thought you made this choice for you. And if you _did…_you don't get to resent me for knowing what I want...not when I've had all this time _alone _to think about it and figure it out. You don't get to make me feel guilty for being happy about it. I never asked you to give up your family. You know what family means to me, I would _never _do that. But joining the club…that means giving up your future for _them. _Your own father doesn't want that. Stop mourning the smart choice, Jackson. You say you walked away but you're still holding on. You're holding on so tight your knuckles are white. My _God_, I'm talking in circles….I don't know what to say or how to say it to get you to….to tell you without making you feel….without making it _sound _like I know everything. I _don't. _I don't know what you want….except _me. _And I'm _definitely _not pissed about that because I love you. I love you so much that it scares me sometimes...you're not the only one that over-thinks. You find your peace at ninety miles an hour? Mine is in a textbook…it's when I'm factoring equations or conjugating Latin verbs so I don't have to think about how we stay together if I go away to school and you don't. Or if I leave and come back and you're part of the club…and JT didn't fix it like he wanted to…and you end up in jail or worse or maybe….maybe I love you so much that I give up _my _future for you and then I regret it and I hate you for it….or I don't regret it but then _you_ hate _me_ because you….because I…because I don't measure up….because I'm not tough enough to be your—"

Jax reached for her waist, pulling her on to his lap. Tara's hair was a thick, brunette curtain hiding her tear-stained face from view. Jax brushed the soft strands back, tucking them behind her ear, cupping her face in his hand. He pressed his lips to her softly, silencing the panic climbing it's way up her throat. _"I'm sorry," _he said, lightly brushing the back of his hand across each cheek. "This shit isn't on you, Tara. It's on _me. _I'm the one that has to figure out what to do with the rest of my life…_besides you." _Tara's smile matched his own, slowly spreading wider. "You're not at the top of the list. You're in the title, Babe. _My life with Tara. _I'm the one who has to fill in all the blank spaces. I can't expect you to do everything. And you're _right..._I made the smart choice for myself. It's just really fuckin hard for me to deal with when I don't know my next move."

"The school does a career day every spring," Tara commented, a deep blush setting into her cheeks. "We could…I mean I already know what I want to do but we can still go together. Maybe….maybe we can even convince Opie to—"

"_No, Babe_." Jax shook his head, sympathy shining in his eyes even as he frowned at her. "I know you want the best for him, too. But Ope made his choice. You gotta respect it the same way I'm asking him…._my whole family _to respect mine."

Several minutes passed, them sitting there before Tara finally lifted her head from the comfort she'd found on his shoulder to smile at him. "I think I did enough studying for the night," she hedged. "You want to watch a movie?"

"Depends," Jax answered, wriggling his eyebrows at her. "Are we actually going to _watch _the movie?"

Tara smirked, shaking her head at him. Knowing him, they probably weren't.

* * *

**The **road** to Hell was paved with good intentions...**

**[REVIEW]**


	76. Chapter 69

**Chapter 69**

**[DISCLAIMER]:** Extreme Adult content, Violent themes, etc.

**P/M** or **FACEBOOK {slash} VeritableOldLadyCrow (for A-note worthy commentary, sneak previews, Q&amp;A)**

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_Falling apart and all that I'm asking,_

_Is it a crime? Am I overreacting?_

_Oh, he's under my skin,_

_Just give me something to get rid of him, _

_I've got a reason now to bury this alive,_

_Another little white lie..._

* * *

Jax was flipping back and forth between the pages of the textbook in his lap trying to figure out why he'd gotten the answer to the problem wrong. He was getting sick of the smug look on Tara's face when she figured out his 'careless mistake' but steadfastly refused to tell him what it was. "Go over your work," Tara would say, smiling. "You'll figure it out."

Well figure it out, he did.

Twenty minutes ago he'd figured out that all the answers were in the back of the textbook. It was a Hell of a lot easier to find his 'careless mistake' when he already knew what the result was supposed to be. Some might consider it cheating. As far as he was concerned, it was just checking his work ahead of time.

He was trying to figure out how to show his work for the answer to number twenty-seven when he heard the distinct squeak of the shower nozzle. His back was up against the headboard, the headboard along the thin wall separating her bedroom from the bathroom. After several minutes of trying and failing to focus on the practice problems she'd given him instead of picturing how fuckin hot he knew she looked massaging lotion all over her body, the bathroom door opened. Tara was wrapped up in a loosely tied terry-cloth cover up that stopped just shy of her knees. The towel covering her hair was in a spa-worthy twist that he never did get around to perfecting that one time she'd ask for his help when she couldn't do it herself.

"I can't find my damn brush," Tara complained, bending over to sift through her bottom dresser drawer. The hair brush she was looking for was actually on the floor, underneath her dresser but Jax was too preoccupied with the view to comment on it at the moment. "Why is nothing….where the Hell I put it?" the brunette grumbled, sifting through her pajama drawer. "I know I washed it….it was right here….and now…"

"Babe, I hope you _never _find whatever you're looking for," Jax admitted, biting his lip as he stared at her, eyes darkening every time the purple coverup rose up a little more, showing just a little more cheek. "I also hope you never stop looking."

Too soon, Tara stood up, turning to cut her eyes at him. "_Perv._"

Jax chuckled. "Your brush is on the floor," he told her, pointing underneath the dresser.

"Thanks," Tara said, squatting down to pick it up. Oh, how he wished her mirror stretched to the floor so he didn't have to miss the front view when she did it.

_Fuck._

"I really hope I didn't leave them at your house," Tara mused.

"Leave what?" Jax asked, not really giving a shit. She was pulling the cover-up off, casually hanging it up on the corner of her mirror. Sliding the gown in her hand over her head like he wasn't sitting behind her watching.

"My pajamas," Tara answered, looking at him through the mirror as she pulled the towel off her head. She leaned forward, dropping her head down, running her fingers through her damp hair before abruptly standing straight, flipping it back like something out of a fuckin Pantene commercial. "You know the purple ones with the hearts on them? They're my favorite. I can't find them anywhere. They're not in the laundry—_oh_ and another thing. My _shorts! _And that shirt you hid from me months ago. You plan on giving them back any time soon?"

Jax slid off the bed. "I'll give them back tomorrow," he told her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "There's something else I wanna give you though. I wanna give it to you _right now," _he drawled, pulling her back against him. "You want to guess what it is?"

"Did you finish the practice test I gave you?" Tara breathed, tilting her head to give him better access to her neck as he kissed her. "Mrs…Palmer….had to….._hmm…_she had to beg Whitman….to let you"—Tara gasped when his hands found their way underneath her gown. With an extreme amount of effort she managed to knock his hand away, turning to face him. "She did you a big favor getting Whitman to let you retake the final exam. You need to be serious, Jax. Otherwise you're gonna have to take the class all over again next semester."

"I _am_ serious, Babe," Jax told her, reaching for the hem of her nightgown. Tara swatted his hands away. "_Tara," _he whined.

"You do this all the time!" Tara scowled. "Every time you come here to study or homework you end up doing _me _instead. Did you finish the test or not?"

"Most of it," Jax lied.

"How many problems?" Tara quizzed. "Did you show all your work?"

"_Ta-ra."_

"You have to work tomorrow right?" Tara asked, crossing her arms as she abruptly changed the subject.

Jax's eyebrows bunched together. "Yeah," he answered. "Why? What does that have to—"

Tara curled her hand at the nape of his neck, pulling his face down to give him a quick peck on the lips. "I'll see you after," she said against his mouth, kissing him once more before walking past him. "Goodnight, Jax."

Jax gaped at her as he watched her throw back the comforter, sliding into her bed. "Did you just kick me out?"

Tara giggled at the expression on his face. "No, fool. None of your uniforms are here, right? You _have_ to go home."

"I _am _going home," Jax told her, walking towards her. "_After."_

Tara scoffed, turning on her side, getting nice and comfortable. "After you finish taking the test?"

He knew it.

Her ass could have gotten dressed in the damn bathroom. She was fuckin with him, and not in the way he wanted either.

Jax suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, flashing her the smile that always helped him get his way. Clearly, all his blood had already rushed to the wrong head or he might have remembered certain signature tricks didn't work on the green-eyed brunette staring up at him in amusement. "I'll do it tomorrow," he told her. "_I promise."_

Tara crooked a finger at him, pulling him down by his neck. Jax missed her mouth by a second as her lips brushed lightly along his cheek, all the way up to his ear to whisper into it. "_We're_ gonna do it…._tomorrow," _she teased. "I promise, too."

Jax groaned. "Fine, I'll do it now."

Tara snickered. "You should have finished it hours ago when you came over," she said, shaking her head. "Donna's going to have me running up and down the mall all day tomorrow. I'm going to bed."

Jax's lips were twitching despite his effort to avoid pouting when he asked her, "Can I at least get a blowjob?"

Tara laughed harder, threw her head back against her pillow and everything. "Not unless you're a contortionist."

Jax squinted his eyes at her. "The fuck is that?"

Tara shrugged at him. "If you can bend far enough to do it yourself, have at it, Baby." Leaning up on her knees, Jax had a torturously perfect view of her bare ass as she reached to turn the lamp off on the other side of her bed. "Love you, Jax," she told him as she flipped her other lamp off, sliding down underneath her covers. "I'll see you tomorrow." Quickly unbuckling his belt, Jax kicked his jeans off. The bed dipped under his knees as he moved to climb over her. "_Jax!" _Tara shrieked. "I just told you I'm—"

"Relax," Jax hissed, climbing over her anyway. "I'm leaving...after you fall asleep."

Tara's smile was illuminating even in the darkness, he could see the awe in her eyes even in what little light seeped into the room through her bedroom window. "It's been a while since you did that," she mused, snuggling in close with him when he pulled her back against him. The vanilla-honey scent of her shampoo wasn't doing him any favors, nor was the thin-fabric of her nightgown as she lay pressed against him. He tried to be satisfied with just burying his face in the crook of her neck. He tried really fuckin hard. But he _was _hard. And she smelled so fuckin good. And he knew how soft her skin felt underneath her gown. He also knew she never slept with anything underneath it—he knew it before he watched her pull just the gown on and nothing else right in front of him. He knew she wasn't sleep yet either, that she could feel how hard he was, throbbing against her ass. He also knew how good she was for elbowing him in the nuts whenever he annoyed her when she was sleeping or trying to get there.

Jax gently pulled the hand that was threaded in hers away, placing it on her stomach. When she didn't react, he slid his hands up and down slowly, moving a little further up each time. As soon as he finally reached her breasts, Tara smacked his hand off. "_Stop,_" Tara mumbled. In his horny, sex-craving mind it was several long minutes that passed, although really only seconds when he lightly brushed his lips against the spot behind her ear. Tara bit back a hiss of delight, but he felt it when she reflexively pushed back against him. Lightly he tugged on her earlobe next, nibbling it softly as his hands found her breasts against, alternating between playing with both of the hardening peaks underneath her gown. He was kissing her shoulder, sat up slightly, and nudged her head aside to suck on her neck. His hand was scaling its way up her thighs, reaching for the valley in between them when Tara abruptly spun around smacking his hand away. He swore her glare burned brighter then the bulbs of her bedroom lamps. "_Damn it, Jackson," _Tara growled. Leaning over her side of the bed, she snatched his jeans off the floor, sitting up to throw them on his head. "I said not tonight! Do you need tutoring for basic English, too? I said _stop. _Do you know what that means? That means _STOP."_

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"He's fresh out," Bobby told them. "Did a five year bid in Chino….his time in the clink was rehab on the government's dime. _He's a recovered addict…._former OG looking for a better way to make a living and keep his nose clean and his wrists track-mark free."

Clay's eyes briefly touched on Kozik before looking back towards the man sitting to the left of him. "You want us to get in business with a _Junkie?_"

"_Ex-Junkie," _Kozik amended. He didn't even have to raise his hand, the middle finger was heavily implied in the look he shot him before blue eyes flitted back towards the man sitting across from him. "You trust him?"

Bobby nodded, turning his head to look down the table at the man sitting next to Piney. SAMCRO's former President had been quiet, his expression undecipherable ever since they'd sat down for Church. "He's just like us," Bobby said. "He's an ex-con looking to go legit looking, to get away from all the violence and bloodshed. He's got a special needs kid—a _son _to think about. Found out about him two years into his sentence. Poor kid was in the system when his mom overdosed. Nero's been fighting tooth and nail to get custody back. He's been in the streets since he was twelve. No college, no diploma….worked on his GED while he was inside just to pass the time. _He's a hustler…._a survivor just like us. He's got bills, responsibilities and he's trying to keep all the gangbanging out of it."

Piney nodded. "Escort service," he mused. "It's not exactly clean money but it's the closest we're getting to legit."

"It's a smart move," Bobby urged, looking at Clay. "Luann spoke to all the girls on her roster and most of them are looking to do more than shoot pictures."

Clay shook his head, shoulders rising. "Where the Hell are we supposed to run this new business? What, we turn Reaper into a whorehouse?"

"The good_ judge_ is going through a divorce," Bobby explained. "No prenup so he's cutting everything down the middle and that's our in. His wife's looking to fuck him over…that means selling her piece of all the real estate he's been buying up around town. He's got a few properties he's not looking to part with so I'm thinking we can get a maintenance contract out of him, too."

"You want to get in bed with Jacob Hale now, too?" Clay interrupted. He held his hand up, eyes touching on each face sitting around the reaper table as he said, "Bobby's got a lot of ideas….He's looking to make partnerships, find better, easier ways to earn without the Feds breathing down our necks. And these past few months, I know shit with Romeo has been rough. We lost a few brothers. We've been ducking for cover with all this Cartel beef bullshit and most of you think it's not worth all the money we've been bringing in. But we _all _agreed that we would see this through until we can find a way out that don't involve getting our heads chop off with a fuckin machete or losing everything we earned trying to fight a war that ain't ours to fight."

"Aye," Chibs agreed. "But that doesn't mean we can't branch out."

"Finding better ways to earn is the first step," Kozik chimed in, nodding his head at the scruffy-bearded man across from him. "This ain't some random shit he's just running with. While we've been holding things down here at Redwood, Bobby and JT's been figuring shit out for the club's future."

"MC's fold when they try to take on too much at once," Clay argued.

Kozik shrugged. "I'm for it," he declared. "I say we get on board with this whole porn studio shit with Luann, too. Give Otto what he wanted for his wife, a chance to be behind the camera instead of on all fours in front of it—we owe him at least that much."

"This _Nero _guy," Happy growled, nodding. "If Bobby says he legit, I trust him. Honestly, I'm just ready to say fuck you to all this Cartel bullshit. These Mexi-assholes are out of their fuckin minds."

Padraic put a hand on his shoulder, looking down at Clay. "And this shitee is coming from the craziest fucker we know."

Clay sighed, rolling his eyes as he touched on the smiles and subtle chuckles in agreement from the men sitting around the table with him. "Should I even waste my time calling a vote on any of this shit?"

_"I wouldn't."_

When he finally spoke, pin-drop silence followed his statement. All of these new…projects. They were supposed to be his _and _Bobby's ideas_, _yet John Teller had been quiet, hadn't uttered a word since they entered the Chapel.

Until now.

Tension was wired in the air as the two men glared at one another. On the surface was an unspoken betrayal that everyone had been made aware of several weeks earlier.

Gemma.

By now all the citizens of Charming probably knew—but his club brothers had most definitely been made aware. He'd been sleeping with JT's Old lady. And he and the recovering ex-President had yet to finally have it out like men.

_Too bad you're still a fuckin cripple. We could hammer this shit out in the ring right now if you could let go of them crutches and throw a punch._

He screwed someone else's Old Lady. It wasn't a minor offense but it wasn't the end of the fuckin world. The past few weeks he'd been willing to take all the cold shoulders, the siding with John out of pity, showing where their loyalties lied between the man wronged and the one who'd done him so. But over a month had passed since JT kicked Gemma out, since he'd shunned her, unofficially removed her from her Biker Queen throne. He'd taken his licks left, right and center. He'd dealt with the dirty looks and the whispering behind his back.

She was just an Old lady.

And if they were going to keep this shit up, he saw no point in keeping his distance from her as expected. He and Gem were long overdue for a conversation. Tig was loyal and he followed orders to the letter, but he was the guy Clay turned to when push came to blood. He wasn't a sounding board, he wasn't someone he could bounce ideas off of, confide in. Talking to Tig wouldn't help him figure out how to navigate around this…this rift between him and the guys that followed behind him. He didn't give a fuck about JT, he just needed everyone else to fall in line.

_I think I'll ride out and go see Gem tomorrow. _

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"_Shit__," _Jax hissed. "It's like I'm torturing _myself." _Tugging her ear between his teeth, he nudged her head to the side, flicking his tongue against her neck. "_Fuck_," he groaned, nails reflexively digging into her stomach. Tara was clenching around him again, flexing and tightening her walls in a desperate attempt to give it right back to him. He almost caved, but as always, almost was never enough with her. Sliding his hand up her stomach, he flicked each of her nipples, pinching them lightly, abruptly sliding his fingers into wet heat pooling between her the gap of her thighs. He traced agonizingly slow circles around it. Tara moaned, pushing back against him as strummed his fingers against her. He worked her over, all the way to top, stopping before she could hit the roof like she wanted.

Just like he'd done before.

"_Please," _Tara begged, whimpering when he gripped her hips hard to stop her from moving against him.

Jax chuckled, his breath hot against her ear. "What's wrong, Babe?" he taunted. "I thought you wanted me to—"

"I _don't," _Tara cried, shaking her head as she bucked back against him. It felt so fuckin good Jax couldn't help rewarding them both, thrusting into her, slow and hard, pulling out, plunging right back in again. "_God," _she moaned, meeting every measured stroke he gave her. "Faster, Baby…please…"

"Are you gonna—"

"_Yes,_" Tara hissed, wriggling in his grip as he stilled her waist, stopping her back from arching the way they both yearned for. "I'll say it, I'll say it." Jax pulled out of her, biting back a groan of disappointment that rivaled Tara's. Gripping his cock, he ran it along her slit, circling her clit with the tip. "_Fuck me," _Tara begged.

Jax let go of his throbbing dick, grabbing a fistful of her hair. He yanked her head back gently, meeting the glazed over look in her eyes through the mirror mounted above her dresser. Even in the darkness he could see the lustful gleam in the emerald eyes staring back at him, pleading with him to put an end to the torture. _"Love," _he corrected her, sucking a kiss on her shoulder. "Always love, Baby."

"Then love me _hard," _Tara urged. "Right now…please, Ba—"

Stars danced in front of his eyes as he finally rammed into her again. A satisfied moan choked off her words, nearly drowning out the groan rumbling from deep in his chest as he thrust in and out of her hard and fast. Real fuckin hard and fast just how she liked it—like he fuckin loved it. "You're not saying it, Tara," he grunted out. "I wanna hear you—"

"_Don't stop," _Tara moaned. "Baby, please don't stop…._don't…"_

"You want me to stop, Tara?" Jax taunted, curling his arm around her waist to push against her stomach until she arched her back deeper, until he felt himself sliding deeper, buried inside her. Fuck, she felt even tighter when he had her like this. "I know _exactly _what it means, Babe, but….but I don't…._fuck…_I don't think you want—"

"_I don't."_

Jax flicked his tongue at the center of her back, licking the line between her shoulder blades. "You sure?"

Tara's hair whipped him in the face when she shook her head. "I _don't_," she cried. "I don't want you to stop."

Nails dug into her sides, holding her steady as he pounded into her, fingers gripped her hair, stinging her scalp as he pulled her head back again, holding it steady, stopping her from facing the foot of her bed. He tried to meet her eyes, but they were rolling back until he changed speed, thrusting harder but slow. Her eyes fluttered shut with every rough, passionate stroke he gave her. "Open your eyes," Jax demanded, stopping until she complied. "Can you see it? You don't need the light on to see it, do you, Babe."

"I see you," Tara promised. "Jackson—"

"_You see how much you love it when I'm inside you," _Jax crooned. "I see it, Tara. You don't want me to _stop."_

"Then _don't!" _Tara snapped, glaring at him.

Jax laughed, gripping her hips hard, stopping her from moving until he was sure she might kill him if he didn't give her what she wanted. Pulling out almost to the tip, he slammed back into her. He pushed hard against her shoulders until his hand was sandwiched between her breasts and the softness of her comforter as he pinned her chest down against the mattress. He sped up then, too lost in how amazing she felt to remember to hold back the sounds tearing from his throat. The new angle pushed him deeper than he'd been before, Tara was still begging him not to stop, no longer stubborn like she'd been when he'd finally gotten her out of the annoying nightgown on her bedroom floor. Jax was moaning in her ear, telling how fuckin much he loved her, that he loved her pussy, too, that he didn't want to stop.

He didn't.

Fuck, he didn't want to stop. He wanted to go on forever, but he couldn't. He couldn't because Tara was clenching tight around his cock. It was yet another first for them. For the very first time, Tara was cumming without his fingers helping her along. She was screaming, _"I love you," _loud enough to wake the neighbors, to embarrass her parents if she lived with any. And then he following her lead, spilling inside her.

"Okay, Babe," Jax breathed out, his chest rising and fall fast against her back as he collapsed next to her, barely moving over enough not to crush her under his weight. Tipping his chin up, he kissed her lips softly, soft because he didn't have enough energy for rough. "_Now we can cuddle if you want."_

Tara used the last of her energy to shove him off the bed, scowling at the cocky teenage boy laughing his head off on her bedroom floor. _"Asshole."_

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She'd finally fallen asleep. Jax gently slipped his arm from underneath her, his other from around her waist, kissing her forehead before quietly sliding out of the bed. Leaning over, he grabbed his boxers and jeans, slipping them on. He was fastening his belt buckle when the sheets rustled behind him.

"You're still here," Tara mumbled sleepily, yawning into her hand.

Jax smiled at the bleary-eyed brunette looking up at him. "I fell asleep with you," he told her, winking. "You wore me out, Knowles."

Tara smiled. "I _told _you to stop."

Jax smirked, crawling back on the bed. "You did," he agreed, kissing her. "Again," he whispered, pecking her lips lightly. "And again," he teased, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth when he pulled back this time. "And again…..but you had the word _don't _in front of it. You remember that? Or do you need a reminder?"

Tara shook her head, but it was at herself. She really should have better self-control…like she used to. "I am _so_ screwed," she groaned, brushing her thumb across the mouth twisted into a triumphant grin she still wanted to kiss despite how ashamed and angry she should have been.

Jax chuckled, kissing her nose. "I'll see you tomorrow," he promised, kissing her once more. "_I love you."_

"I love you, too."

"…..Jax?"

Jax released his grip on the doorknob, turning back to look at her. "Yeah, Babe."

"Arthur wants to come home," Tara confessed quietly. "He's been really trying…and it's….well it's _his _house so I can't keep him out of it forever but he…he wants to move back in….be a family again…and I….well, part of me wants that, too but…._I'm scared."_

Jax really wished he could say with conviction that her father would stay sober, that things would be right as rain from here on out, but it would be a hollow promise—one with no guarantee she'd ever believe no matter how much effort he put into it. All he could do was speak for himself. "I don't want him to hurt you," he admitted. "I'd really fuckin hate it and I swear I might kill him if he does….but whatever you decide, I'm with you. And if it doesn't work out, you know you always got me. _I got you. _Always, Babe. That I _can_ promise you... I just hope I'm enough."

"_More than," _Tara told him, smiling. "Goodnight, Jackson."

"Goodnight, beautiful."

Outside, he climbed onto his bike, twisting the keys into the ignition as he mentally kicked his own ass for the initial feeling that had overcome him at the mention of her father coming home. He knew it made him an awful person, a selfish human being but part of him, a very large part hoped her father never moved back in. They could work on their relationship from a distance, couldn't they? Things would change with him home. Sneaking in and out of windows was a past time he didn't miss. The house he used to call home wasn't really home anymore. And it definitely wasn't that shiny, new house out in Bakersfield with his treacherous mother. JT was always gone—off to therapy, off on a run, sleeping it off at the clubhouse after having too many with his brothers during the latest club rager. He didn't wake up to breakfast, not even the oatmeal he used to complain about. Angry as he was at her, Gemma's absence was glaring in every corner of the house, the kingdom she used to reign over. The Teller household was just a house. It wasn't a home.

Christmas was two days away, yet it felt like Jesus' birthday every morning he woke up next to her. If home is truly where the heart is, Tara was his home. She was his home, and not the one away from home either. He knew it was unfair, unhealthy even to rely that much on a person…unless it was your mother. That was what mothers were for.

Right now Jackson Teller had no mother.

But it was only when he was away from his home that he could really feel how fuckin much that hurt.

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"I'm an _awful _person," the young woman moaned to herself. The smile twitching the corners of her mouth belied her feign attempt to look guilty as she held her legs out in front of her, switching her ankle left to right to admire the shiny, red designer pumps on her feet. "I've already waited until the last possible minute to finish my Christmas shopping and now I'm trying on shoes for _myself_ instead of picking out a pair my niece would like."

"You haven't been _naughty _this year, have you?" Jax joked. He swallowed his laughter, flashing her a boyish grin when she looked up at the sound of his voice. The stern look of disapproval on her face quickly melted away, an apple-cheeked smile brightening her eyes as she noted his poor attempt at looking innocent. "Who says your niece is the only one that deserves a gift? I see nothing wrong with treating yourself to a little something special, especially with all of these crazy Holiday _sales_. And I hope you don't mind my saying, M'am… those shoes look _fantastic_ on you."

"_Really?"_ Pursing her lips, she stood up, walking towards the full length mirror mounted on the wall of the shoe department. Twisting side to side in front of it, she admired all angles of the heels on her feet, taking in the way they looked. "I love them of course….but I'm not so sure these are my color."

Jax moved to stand behind her. "_Look at your legs," _the sixteen year old drawled, blue eyes flitting down to the long, gorgeously toned stems in question. Unable to resist, he stepped closer to her, pressing against her back, lips barely touching the shell of her ear as he whispered, "with these heels….it's like your legs are never-ending…._right now I'm thinking about just how _fuckin_ good they'd look wrapped around my waist…I feel like pulling you into one of the dressing rooms over there."_

"BULLSHIT!" Wendy interrupted. Chastity and Donna were giggling at her outburst as the loud-mouthed blonde walked over towards the couple undressing each other with their eyes in front of the mirror. "I don't care how charming you think you are, no way in Hell you would say that to an actual customer. That's a sexual harassment suit waiting to happen."

"No," Tara corrected, turning around to wrap her arms around his neck. "That's my _fist _waiting to meet his nose."

Jax chuckled, briefly craning his neck to look out for his manager. Debra was nowhere in sight when he leaned in to kiss her, palming her ass as he did so. "Come on, Babe," Jax crooned, smiling at the brunette wrapped up in his arms. "You _know _I don't even have to try that hard."

Tara rolled her eyes, shoving his chest as she moved past him. Jax's eyes flew straight to her ass, her hips as they swayed left to right. Tara was working the four inch heels on her feet for all they were worth.

And they were worth a lot.

"You were supposed to be demonstrating how you managed to make top salesman of the month," Donna commented, smirking. "I'm not buying _this_. Even for you, that's over the top. I'm with Wendy."

"How the Hell _did _you do it?" Chastity wondered, eyebrows scrunched together. "Weren't you only doing part-time on school days?"

Clearly she was missing the picture.

His girlfriend however captured the entire frame.

"I'll tell you how he did it," Tara told her, scowling at the cocky grin on Jax's face. "This job pays mostly on commission and this is the _women's _shoe department. He flirts his _ass _off, telling every female that comes in here how _sexy _the shoes they try on look on their feet. By the time he's finished giving them the whole Prince Charming _do me baby _look they're buying the shoes in three different colors. And don't think I don't notice all the phone numbers written on the receipts and gum wrappers in your jeans. I wonder if they know you're jailbait."

"You say that like horny cougars give a damn," Wendy said, rolling her eyes, a taunting smile twisting to one side of her face. "And I'm pretty sure most of the numbers in his pocket aren't from older—"

"_Shut the Hell up, Wendy," _Jax hissed, sucking on the pad of his thumb when the sharp corner of the shoe box Tara shoved into his hands nicked him. "Always starting trouble."

"You're about to _be _in trouble," said a voice behind them. All five teenagers turned around. Jax smirked at the short, pimply-faced man holding a stack of shoes he wasn't able to successfully sell in his arms as he glowered at him. "This isn't a house party Teller," the twenty-eight year old sneered. "Hang out with your friends on your own time." Walking past him, towards the back room, he instructed, "And come help me reorganized the inventory _now."_

Jax rolled his eyes. Reaching for her waist, he snatched Tara closer to him, stealing a quick kiss before his pain in the ass co-worker could run back out with their manager behind him pointing his finger at the latest thing he was doing 'unprofessionally'. "You guys should split before I get fired for breaking that assholes nose with one of these boots on display," he said, laughing with them. "I get off in like forty-five minutes though so if they're done with your shopping…..you _could _wait for me on the food court. We'll go straight to Gemma's from here. Or do you want to leave with them and I just pick you up after?"

Tara nodded. "I'll wait," she promised him, knowing that was what he preferred. She made sure to hold her middle finger up to the three teenage girls making fun of them as she stood up on the tips of her toes to give him a thorough kiss goodbye, his manager be damned. Pulling back, she pinned him with her emerald glare as she told him, "No promising customers you'll hook up with them in dressing rooms to close sales, Teller. Don't be a_ whore_."

Jax chuckled. "You're going to feel like a real brat when you see what all this _flirting _got you for Christmas."

"And you're gonna be _pissed _when you see what _she_ got _you_," Donna teased, snickering. "I got Ope a….well I got him something similar."

"Lowell _wishes _I would get him what you bought," Wendy commented.

_You bitches be crazy._

"Are any of you guys cool with that girl over there?" Chastity asked. Several pairs of eyes followed the direction she'd nodded, three of them narrowing to slits once they saw who she was talking about. "I saw her in the guidance office when I went to make up my schedule for next semester. She's kinda cute."

"Speaking of _whores," _Donna growled, glaring at Imalya Lee as she walked towards them.

"Hey, Jax," Ima chirped, holding up the red pump she'd found on display, the identical pair Tara wouldn't have purchased now even if she could afford them. "You mind checking if they have these in a size eight-and a half?"

Chastity noted the hostility, the murderous glares Donna and Tara were shooting her. Even Jax's face was contorted into a scowl as he reluctantly released the grip on Tara's waist, kissing her cheek, mumbling a quick, "Love you," before walking off to do his job.

Nudging Wendy's shoulder, Chastity whispered, "_What's the story here?"_

Wendy smirked, nodding towards the sixteen year old in the coochie-cutter shorts trailing behind Jax. "Her name is_ Ima_," she told her. Then, pointing to her own chest, she added, "And right now my name is _Benette._"

_I ain't fuckin in it, _Wendy thought, sauntering off behind a furiously whispering Donna and Tara.

* * *

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Tara was sitting alone, flipping through the latest issue of COMSOPOLITAN magazine that someone had left behind. Slurping hard on the straw in her mouth, she finally gave up on trying to drink the extra-thick pistachio milkshake in her hand, abandoning the article she'd been reading on _seventy-seven sexual positions to try at least once _to head off in search of a spoon to eat it with instead. She'd just snagged one from the Asian cuisine booth, walking back to her table to enlighten herself with position number twenty-six when she heard a familiar voice say, "_Tara?"_

Tara turned around, a shy smile spreading across her face as he stopped in front of her. "Hey, David."

"How are you?" David Hale asked, pulling her in for a quick hug. "How's your arm and everything?"

"Everything works just fine," Tara said, smirking. Blushing at him, she coyly added, "I'm sure you heard that though. I heard some of the guys calling me _Ali _when I walked past them. Even my Spanish teacher knows about the infamous locker room fight."

"Right." David nodded. "How's your dad? I heard he was in the hospital…"

"Going on two months sober," Tara admitted, pursing her lips. "He's really been trying. I should probably let him off the hook but….you know."

David scowled. "Oh believe me," he told her, raising his eyebrows. "I _do."_

Tara swallowed the guilt threatening to rear its ugly head as she thought back to their last conversation, when she'd told him the truth about his father. Nothing she'd told him was a lie, yet she still felt bad for being the catalyst to what was clearly a strained relationship with the man he'd always looked up to. "So," she said, deciding to change the subject. "How's Sarah these days? How many school's she been kicked out of since she left?"

David's smile returned. "None so far," he admitted, smirking. "My mom's been waiting for something to throw in my dad's face about her but so far she's been quiet…it's kinda weird actually."

"That's good..."

"So," David reached up to rub his shoulder. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Christmas Eve's tomorrow. What are your plans for the holidays?"

Tara shrugged. "Nothing major," she answered. "I think I've had my fill of _house_ parties or parties in general. I'll probably just keep it simple. Stay up all night, have a Christmas movie marathon with…"

David smiled. "_Jax,_" he finished for her. "its cool, Tara."

Tara shuffled her feet, hope slowly bleeding into the nervous look in her eyes. "Yeah?"

David laughed. "You're always worried about everyone else," he mused. "How they're feeling…if they're okay. If you could help it, you'd never hurt a soul. _You're the sweetest person I know, Tara._ That's probably why it was so hard to get over you."

"But you're over me now?" Tara blurted quickly. The way her eyes ballooned after saved her the need to dramatically slap a hand over her no-filter having mouth.

David laughed harder. "Yeah," he told her. "And don't worry….I had _help."_

Tara narrowed her eyes, eyebrows turning up. "What do you mean you had—"

_"I know it's called _Mexican Grill _but it's like none of the workers understand English…I said _no_ sour cream. I told them _twice _and they still—_Oh, Hey, Tara!"

Tara's eyes darted back and forth between Stephanie Eglee and the hazel-eyed boy she used to date. It wasn't lost on her how quickly he shifted his eyes towards the blonde standing next him, nor did she miss the way they brightened at the sight of her. "Hey, Stephanie."

Smiling at her briefly, Stephanie turned towards David, her frown apologetic as she told him, "I _told _them no sour cream but I'm pretty sure they put it on there anyway. I would have went straight back but the line is ridiculous and I know you wanted to pick up the bracelet you bought your mom before the store closes."

"It's fine," David assured her, kissing her as he took the bags from her hand, adding it to the cluster of shopping bags he'd already been holding. "I'll scrape it off."

"What are you and Jax doing Christmas Eve?" Stephanie asked, looking over at Tara. "My mom's hosting a Christmas party. Nothing fancy. It definitely won't be a _Hale _kinda party," she teased, nudging the Hale next to her playfully with her elbow. "But it'd be cool if you guys could come over for a bit before you party it up Outlaw style at the clubhouse."

Tara shook her head, smiling. "No outlaw rager for me," she told her. "Trust me."

"Great!" Stephanie chimed. "So you're free then?"

"Well, actually—"

_"Guess who," _Jax whispered in her ear, holding his hand in front of her eyes as he snuck up behind her.

"Joshua?" Tara teased, turning to scowl at him when he smacked her ass in response. "Didn't I tell you not to do that in public?"

Jax laughed, nodding his head up at an amused Stephanie. "Hey, Darlin," he drawled. Looking over at the boy standing next to her, he added, "What's up douche bag?"

David rolled his eyes. "Happy holidays, _asshole," _he bit back. Only the words were without their usual bite, without ice or malice. It was along the same lines with the semi-civil way Jax had chosen to greet him instead of threatening bodily harm with his eyes. David curled an arm around Stephanie's waist, ushering her along. "I'll see you after the break, Tara!"

"Merry Christmas," Stephanie tossed over her shoulder.

"Merry Christmas!" Tara called after them, turning toward the sixteen year old shaking his head at the couple walking away.

"Stef can do way better than Davey boy," Jax commented, snorting.

"You waited until he walked away to be a jackass, so I'm still going to count itt," Tara mused, smiling at him. "_Personal growth_. I'm impressed, Jackson."

"You look surprised," Jax teased, wriggling his eyebrows as he grabbed her by her waist. Backing her up against a nearby pillar, he grabbed her hand, placing it on his crotch. "I'm always _growing _around you."

Tara giggled, shaking her head at him. "Class act, Teller."

"Look," Jax said, pointing above their heads. "Mistletoe."

Before she could look up to confirm that there wasn't a damn thing hanging above their heads, he leaned down, capturing her mouth with his own.

_"Damnnnn girl! Did he give your Christmas gift early? Musta been a tennis bracelet!"_

Tara pulled away, dropping the leg that was slowly rising high to curve around his waist, looking over his shoulder at the pretty, brown-skin teenage girl gaping at them. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks as the people within earshot of the young girls comment laughed along with Jax, laughing even harder when she rewarded him with a hard shove in the chest. Damn him for always make her forget her surroundings. Walking off, she rolled up the COSMO magazine she'd found, quickly putting it in her purse before he could see it. Maybe there was a new position she could try or an article giving advice on how to get back the power she'd somehow lost. Wasn't the woman supposed to hold the power when it came to sex? Sex was Jackson Teller's weapon of choice and he used it on her every time.

Goddamn him.

"You don't have to daydream about me, Baby," Jax said, falling in step beside her. "I'm all yours any time, any place," he teased, winking at her when her cheeks turned red again.

Clearly, giving it to her _real good _on the regular was making him fuckin clairvoyant, too.

"Did your mom say she needed anything when you called her?" Tara asked as they weaved through the crowd of last minute shoppers, headed towards the exit.

Jax shrugged when she glanced over at him. "I thought _you_ talked to her," he replied. "Anything she needs she probably already bought from the store. I know we're eating dinner with her, but there's no need to bring wine. _Boozy's _got plenty of—"

Tara slapped his arm, scowling. "Quit calling her that!"

Jax sighed, opting to roll his eyes instead of engaging in another pointless argument.

_She's my mother, goddamn it. _

_I'll call her what the fuck I want._

* * *

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Gemma was sitting on the front porch of her new 'home' waiting for her son and his girlfriend to arrive for dinner as promised. Swallowing the bitterness she felt, she tried to force cheer into her sour mood with no success. Being sober really fuckin sucked. Vodka and Tequila made it a lot easier to ignore certain things. Like the fact that she'd been exiled from the world she'd helped built. That the closest thing female friendship she had wasn't a friendship at all. Luann was less companion, more lackey. And Gemma had no orders to give her, no tasks for her to complete because she was no longer the matriarch. Sure, technically she was still John Teller's wife. The first lady of the founding President, at least until he brought that Irish gash into the picture. But the respect was gone, and as she'd discovered through many encounters with the women who used to flock behind her, so was the fear. She was nothing more than a mascot, just as a certain red-headed Knowles had called her. She was there for show, without the power she usually wielded. And if that wasn't crippling enough she found herself at such an all-time low that she had to rely on another Knowles—this one a teenage brunette with a heart that was too big for her own damn good.

Jackson refused to sleep over. He hadn't spent the night in his new bedroom not even once since she'd moved in. And it was just like his birthday breakfast. The only reason she ever saw him at all was because of Tara. Gemma had never kept it a secret how she felt about that girl. She'd even choked her out in the middle of a fundraiser. Slapped her in her face in a hospital lobby. Tara Knowles had no reason to show her any pity at all, let alone kindness. Yet, there she was every Friday night, practically holding her son's hand as if that were the only way to get him to keep walking until he was inside the house he refused to acknowledge as his second home.

Her throat tickled, her foot tapped against the steps as she fought the urge to go back in the house and knock back a shot or two to take the edge off. She was rising to stand, turning to do just that when the rumbling of a motorcycle sounded. Smiling despite herself, she quickly spun around, her mouth dropping back into its earlier grim line the second she realized who'd arrived.

Gemma was already shaking her head, climbing down the stairs, walking down the pathway to meet him half-way. "What the Hell are you doing here?"

Clay looked up at the house behind her. "So, JT bought you a new place," he mused. "It's nice. I'm a little surprised you didn't insist on keeping the other one."

"You need to leave," Gemma told him.

Clay jerked his head back, eyebrows threading together. "What the Hell are you talking about? All this shit going down with the Cartel and the club, this is the first chance I've gotten to break away and come see you. Clearly, you're Old man knows about us. Apparently so do the rest of the guys. I'm guessing the Old ladies are freezing _you_ out, too. You've licked your wounds long enough. I know you don't seriously think I would let that Old gimp do anything to you. We gotta talk this out. Figure out a way to navigate this until I can get rid of him for good. I know you made me promise for the sake of Jax—"

"I _did,_" Gemma seethed, anger flashing in her eyes as she recalled what her husband had told her about Clay's attempt to kill him in the hospital. "You promised….and then you went back on your word."

"The fuck you talking—"

"_Jackson's coming over," _Gemma interrupted, nodding towards the Harley parked in her driveway. "You can't be here."

Clay shrugged. "What does it matter? Ain't shit changed between him and JT. He's refusing to Prospect for his club."

Gemma smirked. "That's because you're sitting in his father's chair."

"_My _chair," Clay growled, shaking her head. "What the Hell is up with—did he threaten you or—"

Clay cut his sentence short, turning his head towards the sound of another Harley riding up when he saw panic flash in Gemma's eyes.

Jax swerved in, stopping at the foot of her driveway, barely giving a nervous-looking Tara a chance to climb off before storming up the path towards them.

"Jackson!" Tara and Gemma gasped at the same time.

"What the fuck is this asshole doing here?" Jax barked, jutting his thumb at Clay. Scowling at her, he didn't give his mother a chance to speak. "Dad's paying your rent and shelling out money to keep your tank and your stomach full. The least you can do is not act like a fuckin croweater on his dime!"

Clay cocked his head, casting him an incredulous, sideway glance. "That's how you talk to your mother? _Check you out. _All the teenage pussy you been running through…something tells me you finally got to see what one tastes like. Now you got some hair on your chest, a little peach fuzz on your upper lip and you think you're a _man._"

Gemma's vision had clearly blurred. That was the only explanation that made sense. She didn't even see Jax's hands move, or his feet. One second Clay was sneering at her son and the next he was jumping up from the ground, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. Tara grabbed Jax's arm, tugging hard, her other hand around his waist from behind as Gemma slid between her son and the furious man ready to pounce on him.

"My _mother?" _Jax screeched. "WHERE THE FUCK IS _SHE? _I haven't seen her in weeks. Every time I show up the only person here is some drunk chick, smoking weed or making out on her front lawn with the limp _dick _that fucked up her marriage!"

"Jackson," Gemma urged, shaking her head. She pointed at Clay. "I didn't—it's not—you don't know the whole—he just—Jackson, Baby, listen to me—"

"Save it, _Gemma." _Jax turned his back to her, forcing himself to be gentle when he took the grocery bag full of eggnog and candy-canes hanging from Tara's arm. He dropped it at his mother's feet. Gemma and Tara both flinched as the glass bottles shattered, eggnog pouring out onto the cement as he glared at her. "You two have a Merry Christmas," he sneered. "If your heart can handle it, maybe you could pop out a kid…then you can change that shitty bedroom into a nursery. I know _I _won't be sleeping in there."

Casting a final glare at Clay, he walked off grumbling, "Come on, Tara."

Tara's smile was laced with sympathy. Looking at a glassy-eyed Gemma, she half-whispered a promise the matriarch had become pathetically accustom to hearing. _"I'll talk to him," _Tara assured. She moved to follow behind him when Clay spoke out.

"What the fuck do you have to do with any of this?" Clay barked. "I saw you that night in the Chapel. You're the one that caused all the problems. You're the reason my club is divided, the reason Gemma's out here in fuckin Suburbia by herself. For someone who lost their mom and has a shitty father you should know the importance of family. Always sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. That's gonna get you in trouble one of these"—the rest of his sentence was lost when a sixteen-year old blur of rage charged at him, kicking him in his shin as he swung a sharp elbow into his face.

Clay was slower to rise this time, but rise he did. And as soon as he stood up several things happened at once. His hand reached inside his kutte. Tara screamed, jumping on Jax when Clay pulled a gun out. And Gemma launched herself at him, knocking him back down, taking the pistol in one motion. Swiftly sliding the magazine out of the gun, Gemma tossed it at his face, bullets pinging off of him as they fell out.

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN MIND?" Gemma screamed, kicking him hard in his throat. Jax laughed as Clay held his neck, wheezing and coughing. "I wish you _would," _Gemma hissed.

Jax shook his head, smirking. "Look, Tara," he goaded. "Gemma's mad at her boyfriend."

Tara sighed. "Jackson—"

"We should go," Jax interjected, grabbing her hand. "Give them some time alone so they can kiss and make up."

* * *

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Diane Knowles was ninety-eight percent sure that what she was about to do was something she absolutely shouldn't. It was the two-percent left that had her reaching for the handle, snapping her car door shut behind her before making her way across the Teller-Morrow lot.

Club Reaper was quiet. She'd been sure to stay clear of the surveillance cameras surrounding the property, waiting patiently until Clay and most of the others cleared. She'd fully intended to follow him, to see if he'd go off on his own. But luck was on her side for once. Only his bike and two others remained. They wouldn't be alone, but that was for the best. And if she had to pick any two biker to be within running distance of her return to a place she hadn't been in seven years, Kozik and Chibs were the closes to comfort she'd get. Especially given what she wanted to talk to Padraic about.

Her feet felt like blocks of lead as she pushed forward, the sudden chill raising the pores of her arms had little do with the cranked up AC in the clubhouse when she finally stepped over the threshold.

Kozik was the first one she saw, and the first to look up. "Check this out, Chibs," the spiky-haired biker exclaimed, nodding up at her. "_Fidget's _here."

Chibs raised the beer in his hand to her, taking another swig before telling her simply, "_He's in the back."_

Diane nodded, smiling her thanks. She hugged herself, keeping the handbag tucked underneath her arm tight to her side as she walked down the hallway, stopping in front of a familiar door. She'd knocked twice, her knuckles hitting air on the third attempt when Padraic pulled the dorm room door open, the drowsy look on his face morphing into a lazy smile as he stepped back, opening the door all the way to let her inside.

"Does _the suit _know you're here?" Padraic asked. He smirked at the scowl on her face at mention of her husband, the man he'd nearly exchanged more than words with a few months ago. "I'm betting he doesn't, although I think he oughta known you'd show up here eventually. I've been counting down the days, Love. _I've missed you."_

"I saw you the other day," Diane said, moving to stand awkwardly at the foot of the bed in the middle of the room. Padraic snapped the door shut, tossing the shirt he'd had in his hand when he opened the door on the bed. Apparently he'd changed his mind about getting fully dressed after just getting out of the shower. Diane forced her eyes to stay focused on everything from the neck up as she told him, "You and Happy were in the parking lot when I went by Tara's school. _You change your mind about getting your diploma?"_

Padraic smirked, patting the spot beside him on the bed. Sighing when she didn't move to sit next to him, he admitted, "A lot of shitee going on these past couple weeks. JT's just playing it safe. You don't have to worry, Di. We're not stalking your niece. We're just keeping Jackie close. And I'm sure you noticed just how _close _he's been keeping little Grace lately."

"Why are you keeping Jackson _close?" _Diane questioned, worry wrinkling her forehead. "I've been looking out for Gracie while my brother's getting back on his feet. Is there something I need to know?"

Padraic stood up, chuckling when she flinched at the hand he'd lightly pressed against her arm. "_Nope,_" he said, his expression teasing. "Is there anything _I _need to know?" he asked, stepping closer to her. Reaching up, he combed his fingers through her hair, basking in the auburn velvet sliding between his fingers, her sharp intake of breath when his other hand curved at her jaw, cupping her chin. The hand threaded in her hair dropped, traveling down to grip her waist. He could see the crow tattoo peeking out of her shirt, his mark was rising and falling fast, her breath tickling his lips as he leaned down towards, mere inches away from the kiss he'd spent way too many nights dreaming about. The familiar scent of the cinnamon gum he always chewed assaulted her senses as Diane shut her eyes and waited.

The kiss never came.

Diane opened her eyes to see a cocky grin spread across Padraic's face. "I guess not," the arrogant Scotsman said, smirking. "I already knew _that."_

He even had the audacity to laugh when she scowled at him, when she knocked his hands away, stepping away from him.

"Do you know about _this?" _Diane hissed, snatching the folder out of her handbag. She tossed it open on the bed, a few pages flying as she growled, "Who the fuck am I kidding? Of course you do. You were _there…_where you weren't supposed to be."

Padraic picked several photos up. "Where the Hell did you get this?"

"I'm the one asking the questions, asshole," Diane snapped. "You see the _dates? _Those are old. _Seven years _old. They're time stamped."

Padraic shrugged, failing completely at keeping his expression neutral when he drawled, "What the Hell does it matter what day it was? It's _old, _Di. I'm more focused on _why_ you have these and how the _Hell_ did you get them?"

"You said you were leaving," Diane accused. "Said you were going to Belfast. I kissed you _goodbye. _I remember. I remember everything about that weekend. I could—"

_"You mean the weekend you jumped into bed with Kozy?" _Padraic scowled, tapping a finger against his temple. "I've got a good memory, too, Di."

"Oh, _fuck you," _Diane hissed. "You were supposed to be _handling shit _with the new charter and instead you're off with some _whore _named Polly." Diane snatched the paper he'd picked up, "_Paulette Zobelle," _she read, looking up to sneer at him. "You _left me…._God, you left me all alone. And I—"

"It was club business!" Padraic barked. "You think I liked going on all those long runs? Doing grunt work for Clay and Tig? I was a fuckin prospect, Diane. I did what I was told. Polly was—"

"Just another thing that _happened on a run," _Diane seethed, slapping her photograph into her chest. "I really wish it would have stay there, Pat. Because now that I know what you were really up to when…"

"When _what?" _Padraic demanded. "This shit is ancient history, Di. The only part of the past we need to be talking about right now is our—"

_"I got an abortion."_

Padraic's mouth slowly opened, snapping shut moments later. He blinked hard twice, shaking his head in disbelief. He knew it was the most likely outcome. Gemma had told him as much when he'd found the pregnancy test. Yet, there a small part of them that hoped their was a boy or girl somewhere in the world that was a part of _them—_a product of all that they were to each other, of what they still meant to one another. When she'd denied it he wanted to believe her. He wanted so _fuckin _badly to believe her still.

"You said you….you said you didn't—"

_"I lied," _Diane half-whispered. Her eyes left his, darting towards a spot on the wall behind him. "I….._lied…._I lied to you….I lie to my husband…I lie to my niece—I lie to _myself…_that seems to be the _one _thing I'm good at," she told him, wiping the tears falling from her eyes. "But I guess that's a given since I learned from the best," Diane mused, a bitter chuckle rippling from her throat. "_Gemma…._she trained me well….always lying to protect the people I love. Lately, I can do it without even blinking. It's like I'm this…this—"

_"How could you do that, Di?" _Diane flinched at the thickness in his voice, chest tightening as she noted the sudden glassiness in his eyes. "I _asked _you….I asked you over and over. You said you were happy for me—happy for _us. _You said you couldn't wait until I earned my top rocker. You got my crow before I even made patch. _You wanted this," _he growled, pointing at the leather SAMCRO Kutte folded neatly across the top of his bed. "You wanted it, too. You finally had a family that understood you. And Gemma….you had a mom didn't judge you for ev—_Goddamn it, _we were supposed to be a fuckin team! And you couldn't even_ tell me _you wanted out. I had to come back to an empty fuckin apartment. I swear on my catholic God the only reason I didn't track you down and drag your arse right back here is because my Uncle stopped me….fed me some bullshitee about him and Fiona…about letting you go. I know things were rough…I joined the club at a bad time…if you would have waited it out you would have seen how things died down after JT and Piney got out. Riding off weeks…months at a time. I would have been a shitty father, I know that. But you know what? Your brother's the _shittiest father of all _and he still gets a shot….Christ, you could have at least told me the truth. Showed me some fuckin consideration. I have never…_never _lied to you. I told you—"

"Everything you could," Diane finished, nodding. "Everything you were allowed. I know that, Pat, but you didn't know _anything_. You got no fuckin idea what was going on. What Clay was—"

"What the fuck does Clay have to do with _us?"_ Padraic shook his head.

"I didn't do it to hurt you," Diane implored. Tears blurred her vision as she finally stepped closer to him, gripping his arms. "I swear…I didn't do it to hurt you," she cried. "And in the end all I did was hurt myself….I had to do it. I _had _to. I didn't…I….I….._I didn't know who the father was. _I wanted it to be you. I wanted it so fuckin badly but there was no way to know and I just couldn't risk—_I didn't think I could handle being a mother...loving a child that was_—"

Padraic stepped backwards, the moisture in his eyes drying up as heat radiated from the narrow-eyed glare he shot her. "You didn't know if it was mine? The _fuck _you talking about? Who else would….you mean _Kozik?"_

Diane shook her head fast, eyes ballooning as she braced herself for the storm she saw brewing in his eyes. Ruthless Padraic was coming to life. He never showed her that side of him, not directly. "No, Padraic. Listen, I was…I told you we _never_…nothing ever happened between—he was just helping me…we were helping each other through—"

"What the FUCK did he have to help you through?" Padraic bellowed. "Last I checked _he _was the Junkie, not you!"

"Who you calling a Junkie?" Kozik asked, peeking his head through the door suddenly. Blue eyes flitted to Diane, smiling at her though her back was to him when he said, "Hey, _Fidget! _Wanna see something funny? Guess who just showed up with a black eye and bloody nose?"

He'd been anticipating Padraic's scowl. That was why the playful gleam in Kozik's eyes didn't die until Diane turned around to face him. "Aw shit," he hissed. "Please tell me this asshole isn't bitchin about the same shit we already _told _him never happened."

"It's fine, _Herm_," Diane told him, forcing a smile on her face even as she swiped away the tears he'd already seen.

"Oh...so he's Herm, is he?" Padraic repeated. He moved lightning fast, charging towards Kozik, slamming him into the hallway wall. "I'm gonna fuckin kill you, you lying son of a bitch!" Kozik shoved him back only to be spun around, his face slamming into the wall as his arms were pinned behind his back. Diane screamed, nails digging into Padraic's bare shoulders as she tried to pull him off, tried to stop him from repeatedly slamming Kozik's face into the wall.

Footsteps pounded down the Hall.

Chibs, Tig, Piney and a bruised and battered Clay ran towards them, pulling the two men apart, although not before Kozik kicked Padraic hard in his chest, sending him flying backwards. "We ain't prospects no more," Padraic wheezed, sucking air into his bruised lungs. "And I ain't taking leads on how to handle _my _shit," the angry Scotsman hissed, glaring over at Clay. "You disrespect _mine, _I'll give you a _smile_ to match my Uncle's."

"What the Hell are you _crying _about now?" Clay sneered. He pointed a finger at a sniffling Diane. "You really fighting over _this _bitch? How many times you need her to l—"

Chibs slid between them just in time, shaking his head as Piney leaned against the wall chuckling at Padraic, the second person looking to rearrange Clay Morrow's face. "I guess you and Jackson got the same idea today," Piney mused, chortling. "Go on, let him go Chibs. If John won't give him his licks for breaking the rules, looks like Paddy's ready to lay down the law on screwing someone else's Old Lady."

"What the Hell did you say to this asshole?" Kozik asked, looking at Diane as he pulled off his shirt, crumbling it up to hold to his bloody nose. Realization dawned in his expression as he watched the panic flash in her eyes when she briefly looked at an intently listening Clay before looking down at the floor. "Jesus Christ," Kozik hissed, shaking his head. He wasn't the least bit concerned about Clay being within earshot when he complained, "As many times as I begged you to tell him…_tried _to convince you and you pick _now? _If I'd of known that's what you came here for I wouldn't have….Shit, the club's got enough to deal with, without this idiot flying off the handle."

Diane shook her head. "I didn't," she stressed. "Herm, he won't even let me fin—"

"Tell me _what?"_ Padraic cut in, glaring at her. "That's she a lying _whore_ and you're a piece of shit brudder just like Clay—"

"Hold the fuck on," Clay barked. "Who the Hell—"

"We know you've been tapping Gemma," Piney interrupted, stating the obvious. "That's why she's in Bakersfield. Judging by your face, it looks like Jax caught on, too. If I were you I'd find a new shoulder to cry on. I don't think my Godson is quite as forgiving as his Old man."

"I didn't _ask _for forgiveness," Clay growled through clenched teeth.

"You never _ask _for anything," Diane snapped. Shooting daggers at him, she shoved him aside, gradually picking up the pace until her power walk turned into an all-out run across the parking lot.

"What the fuck was she doing here?" Clay demanded. "I know she didn't come here to kiss and make up. You wouldn't be so damn pissy if—"

"_None of your fuckin business,_" Padraic snapped, slamming shoulders with him as he, too stormed pass. Piney, Chibs and Kozik slowly followed the trail, headed back to the bar area, leaving Clay and Tig behind.

"This shit with Gemma?" Tig mused, whispering. "You gotta figure out how to make it right. You were dead wrong, man. Ain't no way around it. And until you get right with JT? Koze and the guys won't respect you….and everything falls apart. We won't have to worry about taking too much on fuckin the club over."

"I know," Clay grumbled, clapping him on the shoulder. "Thanks, Tiggy..._At least I know I got you_."

"Always, Boss," Tig assured. Then almost as an afterthought, he pointed a brass-ringed finger at his patch President's face. "_Did Jax really do that to your face?"_

* * *

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"Hey, kid." Robert Kohn nodded his head up at the scowling boy sitting next to his mother at the kitchen table. He slid a coffee cup towards her, sipping from his own as he sat down across from them.

"Is this a parole meeting?" Lowell Junior grumbled. "_Please _tell me you're finally going to let us out of this house. Christmas Eve is tomorrow for Christ sake's and I can't even go to the mall with my girlfriend. It's like you think I'm supposed to be a fuckin agoraph—"

"_You watch your mouth!,_" Barbara Harland scolded. "When the Hell did you start talking like that? _Go! _Your uncle and I need to talk. Watch TV or read a book. Or something. You're not going anywhere and I'm sick of hearing you complain about it. If Wendy can't come over today you'll see her another damn time!"

"_This is bullshit," _Lowell mumbled under his breath. He didn't bother fixing the chair back when it fell as he jumped up, storming away to go upstairs.

Looking over at her older brother, Barbara's scowl matched her retreating son's as she said, "I hope you brought more than coffee."

Robert sighed. "_He's gone, Barbie_," he admitted once they were alone. "Lowell took off the second he was released. The DA's being tight-lipped about your cases. At this point I don't even know if they'll be charging one or both or neither one of you. Gemma Teller won't testify and ATF was bluffing about the surveillance footage. No tape, no witnesses. I doubt they'll be moving forward with charging you for aggravated assault. You're looking at a fine at the most, if that at all…But there's no statute of limitations on attempted murder, Barbara. He can be prosecuted at any time should they decide—"

Barbara nodded stiffly. "_What about Stahl?_"

Robert's frown deepened. "The case is cold," he answered. "There are no new leads…no DNA, no evidence that points the finger at any one of the hundreds of enemies that woman has made over the course of her career. The only connection to SAMCRO are the files that were missing but whoever killed her had to be a professional. Those rednecks aren't smart enough not to leave something to go on. And judging by their usual style I doubt they would have left the body to be discovered. She'd be in a shallow grave somewhere."

"The deal we made died with her," Barbara said. "If this is the MC I'm sure their lawyer already gave them the good news. But that still doesn't change the fact that they know everything my…._Clay knows my son tried to help put him away…._That man is ruthless and heartless. If you knew the things he's done to…..all he cares about is money and power. And he…he…God, I don't know what I'd do if anything were to hap—"

"I _know_." Robert reached across the table, placing a hand on top of hers. "That's why I need you to sit tight. I screwed up. I knew that bitch couldn't be trusted. The situation you're in now? That's on me, Barbie. And I'm going to make sure I fix it." He looked towards the living room, staring at the staircase her son had bounded up minutes before. "You gotta keep Junior in line," he told her. "I'm going to figure this shit out. But until I do….those men sitting outside the house are working on my dime. Retired agents—private security I've contracted to make sure no one that's not supposed to be here gets in. You _have _to stay here. No leaving the house unless it's absolutely necessary and when you do leave, Sabian and Palermo are to be with you at all times, no exceptions."

Barbara shook her head, eyes flitting towards the ceiling as if in search of an answer God was unwilling to provide before finally meeting his again. "There's nothing to eat in this house," she complained. "Your ex-wife eats like a fuckin rabbit and her son's always eating out. You might not agree with me but I say a trip to the grocery store is very _necessary."_

Robert rolled his eyes, stood up from the table. "It'll have to be quick," he said, buttoning his suit jacket. "I'll let them know."

"Lowell!" Barbara yelled, walking over to get her purse off the counter. "Let's go! We're going to the store!"

"Can we go to the mall, too?" Lowell shouted back.

"NO!" The irate mother snapped, stepping into the living room to yell from the bottom of the steps. "_MONROE'S_ AND BACK. BRING YOUR ASS DOWN HERE NOW!"

"You've keep me locked up in this house for _weeks_ and now I can go out because you want to buy _groceries?!"_

Robert chuckled. "You can leave him here if you want," he suggested. "Palermo can stay here with him. Just give Sabian your keys and he'll drive you…._it might save _you _an attempted murder charge._"

"I wouldn't bank on the _attempted _part," Barbara mumbled, glaring at her moody son through the ceiling.

She knew he had every right to be angry. The sins of his father—and even his mother were keeping him sheltered, tied down without even the comfort of his own bedroom at home. Barbara was certain that if his new girlfriend (the smart-mouthed blonde) hadn't been over almost every day he would have fled through the window by now. She was happy Lowell was starting to come out of his shell. He was finally part of the circle with kids he'd shied away from growing up. She wanted her son to be happy, and she knew why he wasn't at the moment. Barbara Harland understood. But she needed him to understand that this was her only option, that her husband, his father felt that walking away was his only option—_their_ only option. She needed Lowell Junior to understand, and perhaps even realize that he really wasn't alone in this.

His misery had plenty of company.

* * *

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"That whole situation could have ended badly," Tara said. Climbing off his bike, she unclipped the helmet on her head—the one he'd bought just for her, hanging it on the handle bar next to his. "You can't keep—"

"Give it a rest, Tara," Jax sneered. "I really don't wanna fuckin hear it right now. Not tonight. Not after what I walked into."

"What _did _you walk into, Jackson?" Tara challenged following him to her front steps where he angrily plopped down. "You don't know and you didn't take a second to find out. When you rode up it looked like she was sending him away. She didn't want him there, Jax. I can tell. I hate being around him, too. What you said to her was—"

"She didn't want him there because she knew I was coming," Jax argued, glaring. "Instead of fixing shit with my Dad so she can come back home, she's fuckin that asshole wearing his patch."

"You don't even know if she _wants_ to fix things," Tara countered, gripping his shoulder until he met her eyes. "Or if she _can._ All you're going on right now is what I told you and what you _think _you saw today. Or the fact that Gemma moved out. There's two sides to every story, Jax. And even if she's wrong, she's still your mother. You shouldn't treat her like that."

Jax scowled at her. "Seriously, what the fuck is up with you?"

"_Jackson!"_

Jax shook his head. "I really don't fuckin get it," he snapped. "What is _wrong_ with you? Why the Hell do you keep defending her? Gemma doesn't give a _shit _about _you! _If you were on fire, she wouldn't piss on you to put it out. Why, Tara? Why the _fuck _are you team Gemma all of a sudden? Am I missing something?" It was a flash. Tara's eyes shuttered fast, but not fast enough. He'd already seen it. Her moment of weakness, of confliction. It was still there, too. It was the way she angled her head as if it was a struggle to keep from hanging it, the way she chewed at her bottom lip, this time without seduction or attraction being the trigger. That flash of truth was the same expression of truth that crossed her features just before she'd finally told him about seeing Clay and Gemma kissing in the hospital chapel.

"What aren't you telling me, Tara?"

"Jax—"

Jax knocked her hand off his arm, frowning. "I'm done being lectured for no fuckin reason. What are you hiding? You catch my father with a croweater? Of course not. You haven't been to Reaper in three years and even if you did, he can do what he wants. She's the one that betrayed—_there it is again! _Tara…._please…._Baby, right now you're the only one I trust. Don't take that away from me…don't take that away from _us."_

"After that first day I went to every rehab session your father had," Tara admitted. "Five days a week….two hours every evening…I never let up. I was _determined _to help your father walk again…._ride _again….with you. I wanted you to be proud of him. And he worked really hard, too... Altman insisted he start taking a day off in between so he didn't overexert himself…give his muscles a break….._a break that wouldn't need healing," _Tara said, smiling as she recited the doctor's morbid attempt at humor. "Arthur was driving me _nuts,_ Diane was always whispering in his ear, shoving him into me, making him…making him try to...just suddenly be my father like he was bef—"

"What does any of this have to do with Gem—"

_"I forgot," _Tara half-whispered. Once against her eyes were pleading, begging him to understand something that was making his chest feel tight, and his heart chilled even without yet knowing. "I forgot it was supposed to be his day off. I went up to his room to meet him like always and….and he was….he was…._Jackson, this really isn't my—"_

"Tara," Jax urged.

_"He was holding a little girl," _Tara confessed. "She was….she _looked…._she looked—God, I don't know how old she looked but she was little. And she was _beautiful_. She had blue eyes like….like _yours_ and she….she had pretty red hair….just like the woman lying across the bed next to him. Jackson….I…Jax, I don't what's true or if what I think _is_ true or if what you're thinking right now is true…I don't know who did what to who first. I didn't ask…I'm never _going_ to ask because it's not for me to find out. It's for you to—"

_"Then why the fuck didn't you tell me before now?"_

Tara flinched at the venom in his voice. "You and JT were working on your relationship," she stammered. "I thought he would tell you when he felt the time was right. _If _there's anything to tell, but now your mother is living—"

"There _is_ nothing to tell_," _Jax barked, jumping up. "Jesus, Tara. I knew you had dead mommy issues—"

"_How could you say—"_

"But to make up some bullshit story to manipulate me—"

"Jax, I'm not trying to do any"—Tara's eyes blinked shut when he violently jerked his hand away from her when she stood up, reaching for it. He knew she wasn't lying. He wouldn't have been so furious, so hurt if he didn't believe her.

"You're just like _her_," Jax accused. "That's why y'all bump heads all the fuckin time. Y'all are _exactly_ the same. Always trying to control me."

"Why would I—_Jax! _Where are you going?" Tara rushed behind him, tripping on the rock she stepped back on when he spun around, knocking her hand off his back. "Jackson, please, listen to—"

"I'M _DONE_ LISTENING!" Jax barked. "I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR HALF-TRUTH _BULLSHIT!_" The helmet he bought her crashed to the ground when he pulled his own off the handle bar. He didn't bother picking it up, tossed his leg over, revving his bike up. Tara watched, her mind and body numb as he rode off without even a backward glance.

* * *

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"_Oh, shit!" _Lowell looked up from the videogame in his hand to see his older cousin clutching his chest dramatically, eyes widening at the sight of him. "I didn't realize you were here," Joshua stammered. In his effort to emphasize his surprise he'd accidentally dropped the satchel in his hand. The bag tipped over, clothes tumbling out of it.

"I didn't realize you'd come in," Lowell replied, eyes darting towards the floor. Narrowing them, he looked up at his cousin in question. "Dude, is that a _bra?"_

"It's lingerie," Joshua answered quickly, leaning over to shove the clothing back inside the bag, snapping it shut. "A Christmas gift for my girlfriend."

Lowell wrinkled his nose. "I know they say it's the thought that counts but….well yeah, it's the _thought. _Ummm…..isn't it supposed to be the other way around? The girl buys the lingerie to wear for the guy. It's kinda creepy when guys do it….might even get you punched in the face, ya know? Besides….no offense, Dude but that stuff doesn't look…well…_new."_

"It's from a new Victoria Secret line," Joshua answered. "It's called _vintage."_

"Uh-huh." Lowell cocked an eyebrow. "I didn't know you had a girlfriend….Last I check you had a crush on Ta—"

"I'd _love _to stay and catch up with you but I've got to hurry and go shower," Joshua said, walking past the couch. "Mother is _insisting _I accompany her to this stupid Christmas fundraiser something Gloria Hale is hosting."

_"At least you're allowed to leave the house!" _Lowell yelled after him.

Ten minutes later, Lowell found himself tip-toeing up the stairs. The shower was still running, steam seeping into the hallway through the wide crack below the door. Joshua was singing a song he'd heard once before, one he didn't care for much at all as he showered. Grinning mischievously, he pushed Joshua's bedroom door open, scanning the room for the bag with his "girlfriend's gift"

"He's probably cross-dressing," Lowell mumbled to himself, chuckling as he walked around. Clearly, he'd hidden it somewhere. Looking back towards the bedroom door, he weighed his morbid curiosity against the chance of him getting caught snooping. Was he really that bored? And did he really want to know what size panties his older cousin wore when he unleashed his inner-woman? Shrugging, he opened the closet door, brushing the clothes hanging up apart. The bag wasn't at the back of the closet like he'd expected.

But there was a door.

Looking over his shoulder again, he twisted the handle. Pulling it open, he stepped inside. It was dark. Red light streamed throughout the dark room illuminating rows and rows of photographs hanging from clotheslines. Something about it seemed creepy before his eyes could adjust enough to make out the image of a girl—it was the same girl in every frame. Stepping further inside, he tripped over something hard, falling to the floor, his ass landing on a pile of clothing.

Women's clothing.

Rubbing his knee, his curiosity urged him further as he lifted the lid on the large, deep metal chest he'd fallen over—Lowell gasped in shock at the collection of knives, guns and bullets inside. God, he couldn't even tell how many were in there. Before he could even think to count, he was squinting his eyes against the sudden light blaring above his head.

Joshua was standing in the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Oh shit!" Lowell hissed, jumping up. He fixed his mouth to apologize, eyes flitting around awkwardly being part of the package. But the words died in his throat as the light in the room revealed the girl in all the pictures.

It was Tara.

He was surrounded by Tara's face. And then he wasn't. He wasn't because then he was struggling to focus on her face when the rest of her body was in the frame of the photographs on the second line—the bra she was clasping, then twisting around, then sliding up the straps up her arms. There was a frame for every step of the act that was supposed to be private.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Joshua gushed, stepping into the room.

Lowell gaped at him. "Dude, what the FUCK?"

"I know what it looks like, Lowell," Joshua told him. "But it's not that, okay? It's _art."_

Lowell gulped, looking down at the container of guns beside him. His fingers twitched with the sudden urge to grab one and arm himself. "I didn't know you collected guns," Lowell blurted out.

"It's a... _hobby_," Joshua answered. Waving his hand towards the rows of Tara's pictures hanging up, he added, "So is photography. As you can see, Tara's all too happy to be the subject of my artistic vision…you see that one over there," he said pointing towards a shot that looked as if it'd been taken outside a second story bedroom window. Tara's house didn't have two stories. Whose house was she in? It looked familiar. "Those are part of my new project. It's called _Voyeur beauty,_" he breathed. "Honestly, I was as shocked as you are when she agreed to pose nude. I was worried that…that _Joseph _would get angry with her for agreeing to do the project. He doesn't even like me tutoring her after all."

"Right." Lowell was nodding like a bobble head doll as he snapped the gun chest shut, slowly easing his way past him. "I'm sorry for uh…for invading your private…umm…_studio…._I'm gonna go downstairs and watch TV."

"Have fun," Joshua chimed, waving a hand at him when he looked back. He held a finger to his lips, whispering. "_Don't tell Joseph."_

Forcing a smile on his face, he pulled an invisible zipper across his mouth. "Lips are sealed, Bro."

As soon as the bedroom door was shut behind him, Lowell's legs wobbled—they trembled as he forced himself to walk, not run down the staircase.

* * *

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The room was tiny, stuffy. It smelled like pinesol and bleach, a hint of spice from the cheap, scented Christmas ornaments her mother always bought even though they made her daughter sneeze. The one bedroom apartment was clean, almost looked unlived in, which surprised her. Wendy tapped her foot impatiently, staring absently at the ugly area rug underneath the cracked, glass coffee table in front of her. Her head jerked up at the sound of the front door opening.

"Sorry," Courtney Case said as she twisted the locks on behind her when she walked inside. "They were all out of eggnog at the store across the road so I went a little farther. I remember how much you like it."

Wendy hated it—she'd told her so every year when she was a kid and her mom would force her to "just try a sip" because she'd been too high or hung-over or wrapped up in something her male visitor had been saying to remember she tried it and hated it the year before. Instead of commenting, she smiled her thanks, choosing to be touched by her mother's misguided effort.

"How are things at Gemma's?" Courtney asked casually. Or maybe it wasn't her casual voice. Wendy had nothing to compare to except her drowsy voice, the way she always spoke after she'd taken a hit of something, or her mouth was swollen from the latest beat-down her dealer-boyfriend gave her.

"Gemma moved out," Wendy answered. "Her and her Old man are going through some shit. JT's still letting me crash there but I actually spend most my nights over at my…uhh…well I spend the night with this guy Lowell."

"_Lowell."_ Courtney pursed her lips. "_Oh! _Ain't that the mechanic who fixed my car that last time before it got towed?"

"That's Senior," Wendy replied, smirking at her mother's assumption that she was screwing a guy almost twice _her _age. "I'm with Junior."

"Oh." Courtney nodded. "So, I've been working my steps," she announced, smiling sheepishly. "Promises was a great place. My counselor even got me in here at the sober living facility for half the rent we normally pay. Gemma's still helping me out a bit but I'm gonna pay her back soon as I'm back on my feet no matter what she says. Sounds like she could use it if she split from her husband…..the neighbors here are nice. I met this one guy….a recovering addict like myself obviously. His poison is _Bourbon…._says his favorite is _Old crow," _she mused, chuckling lightly. "I always thought that stuff was nasty but he knocks it back like it's apple juice…well he _used _to. Nice guy….name's Arthur. I was thinking of asking him to be my sponsor although I suppose I should probably have someone with more chips than him. Even I been sober longer."

"Good for you, Mom," Wendy said, her arms crossed. "How long do you think it'll last this time? Your last record was about two months—although I can't be sure since you ran off with some other _nice guy _you met. Next time I saw you, you were getting high again."

Courtney frowned. "I've put you through so much, Wendy," she said. "And you've stood by me no matter what. I've been an awful mother. This…this _addiction…._It's just been so hard to beat…it's been hard 'cause….'cause—"

"Because you _really _love crank," Wendy interrupted. She wasn't scowling, wasn't scolding or even talking down to her mother. She was simply telling it as she saw it, as she always did.

"I used to think your grandmother was abrasive," Courtney mused, smiling. "You get your attitude from her I guess." She waved a hand up and down Wendy's body. "Got your figure from your mama of course," she said, smirking. "Mama was flat as a board….a bean pole no matter how much she ate but the women on my daddy's side….we're all stacked. You got that from me."

"I guess I have _my _father to thank for this gorgeous face I'm working with," Wendy joined in, grinning.

Courtney's smile faltered, she nodded her head once, reaching over to grab one thick, curly, blonde lock of her daughter's hair. "Your hair, too," she muttered. She let her hair go, her knuckles lightly brushing against Wendy's face as she stared at her. "You were always a beautiful girl," she told her.

"I remember when I was younger," Wendy said, smiling despite the shift in her mother's mood. "You used to hold my face in your hands just like this….you'd tell me I was so beautiful it hurt to look at me."

Courtney's nose crinkled, the only sign of the smile she'd failed to conjure up. "It still does," she admitted quietly. "It hurts so fuckin much to look at you….it hurts because I'm your _mother_….you're my daughter and I know I'm not supposed to hate seeing your face…I'm not supposed to—"

Wendy slid away from her, narrowing her eyes in confusion. "I thought you called me here to make amends," she said. "This is supposed to be the step where you admit how shitty you've treated me, not feed me the same bullshit about how my father is the one that got you hooked on drugs and how I remind you of—"

"You remind me of _everything," _Courtney shrieked. It was a strangled cry compounded by the tears brimming in her eyes. "You don't understand….and that's _my_ fault, I know that. All I've ever done was hurt you…lie to you…lie to myself….I lied to myself every time I thought I could get past this…that I could kick the habit without coming clean…all those stints in rehab…the money your grandma left you wasted because I wasn't strong enough to…to….Wendy, you….you don't remind me of your father. I got no idea who he is….._I never saw his face."_

Wendy blinked hard twice, flinching as if she'd been slapped. "What?"

Courtney shook her head. "My eyes are _green_," the frantic mother stammered. "Yours are brown, the _prettiest _brown I've ever seen but those are not my eyes. They're _his. _You have his eyes and your _hair"—_Wendy knocked her hand away as she reached for her—"It's all wild and thick and long and gorgeous, you jump out of bed and run your fingers through it and it's perfect…you're _perfect…._you're a beautiful girl but you look nothing like me….or my mother….or any woman on my...you...you look like _him…._and every time I would….every time I'd be standing on line at the store and I'd…I'd see a handsome man with blonde hair and beautiful brown eyes I'd think, _is that him? _Is that guy who—"

"_I don't know what the fuck you're on,_" Wendy said, standing and sliding away from her at once. "But I'm headed over to office to deman a drug—_get off of me!"_

Courtney grabbed her arm, pulling her back towards the couch. "It's not your fault, Baby. I _know _that," she pleaded. "I've always known that but I couldn't shake it….I was…I was _seventeen _years old…I couldn't wrap my head around it. I couldn't understand how something innocent could come from what he did to me. But your grandmother…._God-fearing woman, _she didn't believe in it…she convinced me…she wouldn't _let_ me….and then you were here and I tried _so hard…._you gotta believe me, Wendy. I tried with all I had but then you turned three…and you…y-y-youu asked me who your daddy was…you wanted to know why he wasn't with us and I couldn't….I couldn't do it anymore, but I knew….I _knew_ you were blameless…you deserved all the love that someone could give you and your grandma loved you….when she looked at you all she saw was a pretty little girl, an innocent child…she didn't see the man that ruined her own daughter, she…._she didn't see him," _Courtney sobbed. "She didn't see the man who _raped _me….so I let you go…I gave you up and she kept you…and she raised you and she loved you like I couldn't….like I tried so hard but couldn't….then she died…and…and…and then my eight year old daughter was waking me up….helping me up off the kitchen floor…dialing 911 until she learned the difference between a hangover and an overdose…my fourteen year old was sticking her fingers down my throat when I took too _much….you've_ been taking care of _me_….I'm the mother and you've taken care of _me…._I don't des—_you _don't deserve any of this shit. You didn't ask for it but I've been giving it to you ever since that piece of shit social worker handed you over….f-f-for me…for me to _torture._"

_"Why are you telling me this?" _Wendy croaked. Her sleeves were dry, absent of the steady flow of tears she didn't bother wiping away. "Why _now?_ Why are you trying to hurt me? I didn't do _shit _to you, Ma!"

"I'm not, Baby," Courtney pleaded. She held her arms out, the dozens of track marks on full display. "I didn't want to hurt you anymore but it was the only way I could beat this...I want to stay clean…so I need to _come _clean…I need you to understand…and I need you to know that from here on out I'm gonna try harder….okay? I promise, Baby. You deserve to be loved and I'm gonna try…I swear to the God my mother raised me to believe in….._I'm going to try _really _hard to love you."_

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"You've got a funny way of watching TV..._Bro."_

For the second time, Lowell found himself jumping at the sudden appearance of Joshua behind him. He slid a hand behind his back as the proud photographer walked towards him. "I, uh…I was thinking I could use some popcorn to eat with the movie I found on cable."

"There's _Orville_ in the pantry," Joshua told him, nodding his head towards it as he inched closer. "I believe you were eating a bag of it the other day."

"Oh yeah!" Lowell clapped his free hand against his forehead. "Man, I completely forgot. But see…the thing is, I was kind of hoping to get some fresh air, too."

"That's what long walks are usually for," Joshua commented. "No need to steal my car keys out of my jacket. I gotta say Lowell, I'm a little disappointed. Going through my closet….stealing my keys. Where's the respect?"

"Hey, I'm sorry, Man," Lowell lamented, forcing the nerves out of his voice as he noted that he, too had a hand behind his back. He wondered if the agent parked in the driveway could make it inside before Joshua could use whatever it was. "It's just, me and mom…we've been locked up in this house for weeks. This is the first time she's left me alone. Wendy's sick of coming over here all the time, I know she is, even if she won't tell me. I just really wanna go see her for a bit. I promise I'll come straight back. One hour, tops."

Joshua squinted his eyes, cheeks rising, head shaking left to right slowly. "I don't think that's a good idea, Lowell."

Lowell reached up for the cordless phone mounted on the kitchen wall between the counter and cabinets. The hand behind Joshua's back flew out. The KA-BAR he gripped between his fingers glimmered, the beige cabinets reflecting in the blade as he softly pulling his hand away from the phone.

_"I don't think that's a good idea either."_

He didn't think, he reacted.

Lowell kneed him in the stomach hard as he could, knocking the knife from his hand before snatching the phone off the hook. Sadly, it hadn't been hard enough to leave him doubled over more than a second, or perhaps he'd missed the mark completely.

Joshua didn't when he kicked him hard in his lower back, yanking his head back by his hair, as he dragged him back towards the counter where the KA-BAR had scattered into the tiled wall. Lowell threw his elbow back hard twice, three time and again, waiting for a grunt of pain before instinctively stomping on his foot. He spun around, lunging for the knife himself, but Joshua was making his scalp burn with the grip he had on his hair against as he slammed his face into the counter. Pulling him back he repeated the assault, blood inked into the stoppered kitchen sink as Joshua kneed him hard, crushing his chest against the edge of the counter, holding his face down in the water. Lowell gurgled, twisted and thrashed, his attempts to buck him off futile until Joshua's focus steered towards the knife to the left of him. He miscalculated how far he had to stretch, how close to death his younger cousin truly was as he reached. With strength that only adrenaline could explain, Lowell finally bucked him off. He was wheezing, spitting up water, coughing and choking. He lashed out with his foot, sloppily kicking Joshua in the chest, falling backwards onto the floor from the labored effort. Fuck the house phone.

But no, he couldn't.

His cell phone wasn't in his pocket. It was on the charger all the way upstairs in the guest bedroom. What the Hell was wrong with his voice? He should have screamed. He wanted to scream for help, why couldn't he? Joshua was on top of him, crushing the air out of his chest with his knees, his hands squeezing his neck. Luck was on his side just once more as Lowell kicked his legs out, banging it hard enough to send dishes flying. He grabbed the meat tenderizer that had nearly broken several of his fingers when it fell. Ignoring the pain shooting through his hand, refusing to give into the darkness trying to swallow him as Joshua strangled him, he gripped the hammer hard as he could, swinging with all the strength he had.

Joshua cried, hands flying to his face as Lowell crawled under the table where the phone was. He moved to get up, to run, to get away, to make it outside where the agent was watching the house, to make it where he could shut the door and call for more help than the man sipping coffee while he listening to Frank Sinatra. But he couldn't get up, he couldn't move. His body felt numb. His back felt wet, soaking wet. Something was tickling him, tickling him all the way down his back. It was the knife, the blade Joshua was stabbing him over and over with. He didn't know when it started. He didn't know if it stopped. Lowell didn't know anything. He'd finally given in. He let the darkness consume him.

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Joshua Kohn had always been fond of whistling while he worked. Tonight was no different as he gently cleaned the knife in his hand under the water in his kitchen sink. Grabbing the oven mitten, he wiped it dry, humming his way past the sixteen year old bleeding out on his kitchen floor. He didn't want to rush, but he knew they'd be back soon. His aunt and the guy his father hired to protect her. But it was all good. He carefully, neatly packed away all his 'toys', emptying the chest full of guns into the suitcase laid out on his bed. He hummed his favorite tune as he packed, as he checked to make sure he didn't leave anything important behind.

There was lots carefree pep in his step as he walked out of his front door, swaying his hips to the rhythm of the song in his head as he walked down the driveway. He tapped lightly against the window on the front passenger side of the unmarked Sedan, drawing the attention of the preoccupied security agent squinting his eyes to read the funny pages in his newspaper with piss-poor lighting from the street lamps scattered throughout the quiet street. Agent Michael Palermo leaned over, rolling the window down slowly. "Hey," Palermo said, nodding his head up at him. "You're Kohn's kid right?" He looked down at the suitcase he was pulling, the duffel bag crossed over his shoulders, twisted the toothpick hanging out the side of his mouth. "It's a little last minute to be traveling for the Holiday's iddin't?"

Joshua glanced at the newspaper in his lap, eyes widening in delight. "Is that the Peanuts comic strip?" He asked. "I just _love _Charlie Brown. Are you almost finished? I'd love something to keep me entertained during my flight."

"Oh, yeah sure, let me just pull the sports sect"—Palermo made the mistake of looking down, looking away. Or perhaps it was better for him. He didn't have to be afraid, didn't see it coming. The bullet sliced through his temple, shattering the driver's side window.

"Happy Holidays, Mr…._Bro," _Joshua chimed, sliding the gun back into the holster on his waist, pulling the belt of his trench coat tight to conceal it. He resumed his zipadee-doo-da-worthy walk down the driveway, humming his way to the driver's side of his car. Tossing his bags into the back seat, he got in, twisting the key into the ignition. He adjusted the rearview mirror at the car's center, rubbing the dried blood on his forehead off with his thumb. He clicked the radio on, backing at out of the driveway to the tune of his favorite song. He didn't have to hum the melody any longer. Instead he cheerfully sang along. Pulling the glove compartment open, he took out his favorite picture of her—the only shot of Tara that she was aware of him taking. He'd snapped it suddenly, smiling at how adorable she looked trying to cover her face, scrunching her nose up as she told him "_Stop! I'm not photogenic at _all!" For such a brilliant girl, she sure said silly things from time to time. Ridiculous things like how she didn't look good in photos when she was beautiful in any frame, mental or physical. Or how she loved the sixteen year old boy who would do nothing but hurt her over and over again.

If he let her.

But Joshua Kohn wasn't going to let him.

"Won't be long now, Baby_," _Joshua whispered to the photo of her, kissing it before sliding it back into the compartment. He fell into tune again right in time for the chorus. His favorite part. "….._I can't get used to losing you no matter what I try to do….."_

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John Teller looked up at the sound of the Chapel doors crashing open. His sixteen year old son stormed inside, knocking the book he'd been writing in off the table.

"Jack—"

Before he could blink, Jax's wrist snapped back, his fist crunching his nose, sending his father flying to the floor, chair tipping over with him much like he had that one night months ago when Jax confronted him about threatening Tara. JT's son was enraged over another wrong—this time against yet another woman in his life. "_That's for my mother, asshole!"_

By the time the shock wore off, Jax was already peeling out of the Teller-Morrow parking lot—Piney, Chibs, Padraic and co. standing outside, watching in astonishment as JT dabbed blood from his nose while his son rode off.

No doubt to see the mother he'd been torturing for weeks.

"What the fuck was that about?" Chibs asked.

"_He knows," _JT replied.

"Shit."

Piney scowled. "I thought you told Gemma—"

"It's _Gemma, _Piney." JT shook his head, a wry smile spreading across his face. The begrudging amusement in his eyes confused his brothers even more. "I'm surprised she kept her mouth shut _this_ long. Gem doesn't do well without family. None of us do."

Piney sighed, nodding in understanding. "So what now?"

"I'm gonna give my son a chance to cool off," JT told them. "Let the momma's boy make peace with Gem like he been wanting to all along."

"Brutha!" Tig pointed at his bleeding nose. "That's a legit shot to the face."

"That's why he needs to cool off first," JT mused. "Before I break my foot again..._this time off in his stubborn ass."_

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"Dee?" Duncan shouted, peeling off his coat. "You home?"

"I'm in the bath!" Diane yelled back. Smiling, he was picturing her naked, and wet, surrounded by bubbles when she called out again. "_You should come join me!"_

"Be right there!" He happily agreed, pulling the vibrating phone from his pocket. _"Yeah?"_

_"She went by the clubhouse on her way from work….Morrow showed up a little while after. Looked upset when she left but no one came after her. Sir…..you _know _I don't mind the pay but I wouldn't have to watch her if you let me take care of—"_

"No more dead bodies," Duncan interrupted. "That was a one-off. If I change my mind I'll let you. For now just stay close…anyone even _looks _like they're about to—"

_"Not on my watch, Sir….._nothing _happens to her on my watch…..I also made contact with the deputy's nephew. _Kyle Hobart _is on board…Just waiting for my call."_

"Make sure _you _wait for mine."

Duncan snapped the phone shut, forgoing goodbyes as he shrugged out of his suit-jacket, unfastening his cuff links, his dress shirt, walked his way towards the bathroom. Pushing the door open, the sight of his wife sipping wine, her hair pinned up as she soaked in the Jacuzzi-bathtub was one of his favorites to come home to. He wasted no time, stripping down, kissing as she scooted up so he could join her. Diane leaned back against him, a satisfied sigh whispering past her lips as he kissed her neck.

"Dee," Duncan whispered against her shoulder.

"hhmm?"

"What if I told you I could make him pay?" Duncan asked. "_What if there was a way we could make Clay Morrow suffer for everything he put you through?"_

Diane sat up, turning around to face him. "_I found the files," _she whispered against mouth as he gripped his chin. "Let's do it, Baby."

Her words held more than one meaning. Duncan groaned as she lifted up, slowly lowering herself onto him, rocking her hips forward.

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"Jefe," Antonio whispered. "You sure you wanna do this? We're finally seeing eye to eye with the SONS and C—"

"Clay's not in charge, Primo," Marcus Alvarez told him. "He thinks he's king…but he's not. Our truce was with him, not Teller. I got a feeling Teller's back now."

"Si, pero—"

Marcus subtly nodded his head towards the crowd of Hispanic men huddled behind him, waiting for them to walk back over. " These pussies ain't Mayan material," he said. "I never thought they were. But as I've said…they serve a purpose. And right now that purpose is seeing just where John Teller is at…I need to know if he's looking to start a war or to keep one from breaking out, eh? These Calaverez clowns aren't linked to us. If we play this right, it shouldn't affect our business relationship with Romeo and SAMCRO. Now let's go," Marcus, patting his cousin on his leather-clad shoulder before walking back towards the men waiting for them. "Let's handle this shit so I can head home. I'm starving and my Old lady promised me some Tamales."

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Wendy was on the front porch, rocking back and forth on the bench of the porch swing as she pondered if she'd be willing to tell Lowell why her eyes were puffy and red, how she'd force the words out if she chose to come clean.

Clean.

Nothing about her life felt clean anymore. Except him. Even with all his family drama, the one slip-up where her mother had almost ruined the life of yet another innocent child, Lowell was still somehow pristine—unexplicably comforting with his naïve, glass-half full perspective on all the curveballs and stones life threw at you. She was going to tell him. Yeah. She'd tell him. She'd lean on him. No more sex with blue-eyed boys who pictured green-eyed girls when they were with her, whispering someone else's name hoping she didn't notice when she needed an outlet, and escape. She had a real one this time. She had Lowell. They had each other. He was going to help her through this in his own goofy, relentlessly infectious way. Standing, she slid her palms across the front of her shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. Chuckling at the silliness of her actions, she skipped the part where she checked her reflection, ruffled her hair. When did she start giving a shit how she looked to guys anyway?

Knocking twice, she twisted the knob, stepping inside when no one answered. It was dark. All the lights were off, light seeping in through the large bay window in the kitchen. "Lowell?" Wendy called out to him, slowly making her way through the living room. Something felt off. She knew why, immediately, mere seconds later. Two steps into the kitchen, her feet slid from underneath her. Wendy skidded across the floor, water spreading across her arms, on her hands, under her nails as she tried to stand up. Then she stopped. She stopped trying to move because the moisture on her hand wasn't water, this wasn't a flood from a bursts pipe underneath the skin. It was seeping into the denim of her jeans, it was staining the side of her white T-shirt.

It was blood.

There was blood everywhere. Her pulse pounded loud in her ear, her palms felt ice cold, her body numb as she reluctantly crawled around the counter. She didn't want to look, but she had to. She had to know it wasn't real, that she wasn't right, because the sneakers peeking out behind the counter were ones she recognize. Drawing in a deep breath, Wendy shut her eyes, whispering a silent prayer to God she didn't really believe in before she moved the final two steps. Her prayer didn't help. It was him. Lowell was lying on his stomach, house phone still captured in the loose grip of his hand. He wasn't moving. She wasn't moving either. She was breathing, she was breathing in and out, too fast. Her mouth was watering, her vision blurred, pain shot through her forehead. She knew it was coming. Wendy empty the contents of her stomach, dry-heaving when she had nothing, ignoring the mess she made, crawling across it on her knees to get to him. The lights flipped on as she reached out.

"What the Hell is—"

_"Stand back!" _a male voice yelled, interrupted Barbara Harland's outburst. Wendy didn't have to see her to know that the nervous mother did the opposite. Seconds later the bloodcurdling scream lodged in the shell-shocked blonde's throat ripped through the air, pouring from the lungs, the hoarse, high-streaking voice of Lowell's mother.

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"_Enough,"_ Gemma scolded, smacking his hand out of the bowl. "You're gonna make yourself sick."

Jax rolled his eyes, sucking the cookie batter from his fingers. "They wouldn't make an ice cream flavor out of it if you could get sick."

"They don't put raw egg in it," Gemma told him, leaning over to put the homemade chocolate chip cookies into the oven she'd barely touched since she moved in. She turned around, shaking her head at her teenage son. Jax had abandoned the bowl for the bag chocolate chips on the counter. "If you were a woman you'd be six-hundred pounds as much as you eat. Men and their goddamn metabolisms."

"I'm a growing boy," Jax joked, tilting his head back to pour the chips into his mouth. "I need nutrients."

"Yeah, you need _something," _Gemma mused, snatching the bag out of his hand. Twisted it into a knot, he put it back in the top cabinet, asking casually, "Where's Tara?"

_"I don't know."_

Judging by the tone of his voice, he didn't care much either.

At the moment.

Clearly him and his girlfriend had finally had their first fight since she gave him his _birthday present, _Gemma assumed. She briefly wondered if Tara's latest attempt to "talk to him" for her had backfired. Gemma still didn't trust her far as she could throw her, but she couldn't shake the feeling that Jax being there with her now had everything to do with Tara whether she meant for his anger to transfer to her or not. Frankly, she'd been so surprised he'd showed up (and happy he'd arrive before she cracked open the brand new bottle of Jameson she bought for the night) that she'd skipped past the heated argument, the hashing it out with him over what had happened earlier. There would time for that later. She'd damn sure _make _time for it. But right now, she needed to tread carefully.

"Are you okay, Baby?" Gemma asked him, ruffling his hair the way she used to when he was a kid. Jax nodded once, but his eyes flitted down at the floor. "You wanna tell me what happened with Tara?"

"Nope."

_Of course you don't._

Gemma sighed. "Alright."

Jax looked up, cocking an eyebrow at her in surprise. "_Alright?"_

"I'm not exactly in a position of influence," Gemma admitted, more so to herself than anything.

Jax snickered. "That's probably what's burning your ass the most," he teased. "You love feeling like you can boss everyone around all the damn time. Hell, Luann and the girls probably miss taking orders."

"Something's changed, Jackson," Gemma accused gently. "I'll let it go for now but eventually I'm going ask some questions. You will, too, Baby. And we'll take it from there. I _never _want to feel like I did today when….like I've _been _feeling ever since I moved out here."

"I missed you, too, Mom," Jax finally admitted, several moments. "I hate being pissed at you."

Gemma pulled him into her arms, kissing his forehead. That same forehead was stinging seconds later when she slapped the Holy Hell of him.

"Ouch, what the fuck?!"

Gemma pointed in his face, "That's for calling me a croweater you little asshole!"

"Shit, Ma," Jax winced. "_I can't see out of my right eye!"_ Jax smiled as he watched his mother laugh. He couldn't fight the guilt that twisted knots in his stomach as he acknowledged that it was probably for the first time in weeks. All this time, he'd been punishing her while his father watched, said nothing. He never once spoke him. Tara didn't either. They were happy to let him go on thinking his mother was the guilty party. The _only _guilty party. Gemma clearly had poor taste in men, especially Clay. But she didn't have any kids outside her marriage. "I'm kinda tired," Jax lied, leaning against the island counter. "Any chance I could crash on the couch? I don't feel like riding all the way back to Charming."

Gemma's smile didn't hide her appreciation, her excitement. It magnified it. Her hand quickly flew up, the flip of her hair a piss-poor attempt to hide the fact that she was really wiping her eyes with her sleeves. "I'll go make up your room."

Jax flashed her the smile that always got him out of trouble. "Want some help?"

"Who the Hell are _you?" _Gemma replied, widening her eyes. "Last time my son volunteered to help me with anything chore related, he was five years old and it was only being he wanted an extra five dollars so he could buy _Tara_ an ice cream, too when he went to the park."

"I always snuck one out of your bag anyway when you said _no," _Jax admitted, snickering. "Christmas is in two days. Maybe I'm shooting for more than coal in my stockings. Something dope, like mayyybe... a custom helmet to match my Harley…."

"Should have known there was a catch," Gemma mused, shoving him into the counter as she walked past him. "I'm not getting you _shit._"

Gemma lying of course.

She was already visualizing the design in her head, smiling at sound of her son's footsteps bounding up the stairs behind her.

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Federal Agents were in every corner of the house, searching, photographing, pulling samples. Kohn rubbed his ex-wife's shoulders awkwardly as his colleagues apologized and promised that they were on top of the case every time they caught her eye. "This shit is all your fault," Sheila Kohn hissed, glaring up at him. "You and your white trash sister turned my house into a fuckin episode of law and order. You wait til Gloria and the girls hear about this! I cannot _believe _I let you rope me into letting them stay here—"

"Calm down, She—"

"Fuck you!" Sheila snapped, shoving him in the chest. "Don't you tell me to fuckin calm down! There's blood tracked all over my fuckin house. Feds everywhere…. I can't even take a piss in my own bath—"

_"Hey, Kohn!" _someone yelled from the second floor. Robert looked up to see Bernie Pickett leaning over the banister, gaping at him. "I think you….you got come see this shit, Boss."

Sheila was slow to follow after him, arms crossed over her chest.

"Remember the Safe room we helped you install a couple years back?" Bernie said as he entered his sons bedroom. "Looks like some creepy fucker turned it into a shrine for his ex-girlfriend or something. Look at all these pictures…and theirs mail, too and papers looks like it'd been crumpled up, thrown away, like he'd been digging in her trash. This is a pretty small town, ain't it? Where's your—_oh never mind, _here she is." Bernie looked to Sheila soon as she entered the room moments after, holding out the envelope in his gloved hand so she could see the addressee's name. "You know this _Tara Knowles_ girl?"

Sheila gasped, eyes ballooning as she took in the clear psychosis hidden behind her nineteen year old son's bedroom closet wall. "He s-s-said…I asked him," she whispered, looking at her equally horrified ex-husband. "I asked him a-b-b-bout her when I saw him sketching—he said she was his photography partn—and, and, and when she started coming over I believed him. I had no….shit…_holy shit, _Oh fucking Hell!" Sheila grabbed Robert's hands in hers, squeezing the life out of them as she begged him with both her eyes and her voice. "You gotta protect him, Robbie. He needs help….he n-n-n-needs someone—God, you can't let him get…this can't get out….th-th-that girl has ties with SAMCRO….I've heard about her...you can't let this get out…you gotta find him before they…before he…...God, Robbie, _Please…you gotta protect our son."_

Protect meant cover up.

How the fuck was he supposed to contain this shit? Protect _both _his families and keep his badge?

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**Chapter ran longer than expected. (Surprise, surprise.) **More **is **_already_ **on the way so **please** don't post reviews saying that (if that's your usual shtick). Bums me out to see alerts and then no feedback. Just stay tuned, maybe leave a few words of insight of why you "loved it" if you did and you have the time...and the inclination. **

**Always appreciate it. **

|REVIEW|


	77. Chapter 70: Part I

Chapter 70: **Part I **

**FACEBOOK [slash] VeritableOldLadyCrow **

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_I've never looked for trouble,_

_But I've never ran,_

_I don't take no orders,_

_From no kind of man,_

_I'm only made out,_

_Of flesh, blood and bone,_

_But if you're gonna start a rumble,_

_Don't you try it on alone,_

_Because I'm _evil,_ my middle name is misery,_

_Well I'm evil, so don't you mess around with me_

_I'm evil, evil, evil as can be..._

* * *

**_CHRISTMAS EVE..._**

**12:56 A.M**

_"What would you like for Christmas?"_

_"An-official-Red-Ryder-carbine-action-two-hundred-shot-range-model-air-rifle!"_

Gemma nudged the sixteen-year old sitting on the couch next to her. "Remember when Tommy asked for a BB gun?"

_"Oh, no. You'll shoot your eye out!"_

Jax snickered, nodded. "I remember him shooting Kozik in the face with it."

"That was _you," _Gemma corrected, rolling her eyes.

Jax shrugged, his smile turning into a scowl when his mother snatched up the last chocolate chip cookie from the dish before he could reach for it. "You should be mindful of that, Ma," the greedy blue-eyed boy goaded. Sliding back to look at her waist he said, "A minute on the _lips, _a lifetime on the hips. Nobody likes a fat Old lady."

"Take it," Gemma said, throwing the cookie at his face. "Little shithead."

Jax chuckled, catching the cookie in his lap before it could fall. He laughed even harder when she slid away from him when he tried to hug her. "Why are you chicks so damn sensitive?" he said, stuffing the cookie into his mouth. "I was just kidding."

Gemma's eyebrows rose in challenge. "Oh yeah? Do you—"

It was déjà vu.

Wood splintered, the front door snapped from its hinges, the door was crushed under the pounding of multiple footsteps as the four men stormed inside. Jax was on his feet, nothing but the VCR remote in his hand, sliding in front of his mother as two guns were raised at them.

Gemma pulled hard on his arm, trying to yank Jax behind her. Her maternal instinct was futile. Jax didn't even notice, nor feel her struggle. In his mind's eye he didn't see a single gun pointed in his direction. It was her. It was all about the woman desperate to protect him. In the enraged sixteen-year old's eyes the men breaking into the house were no different then the men who'd done it six years ago—they were here to hurt his family. And he could never stand for it, couldn't let it happen. Teller men protected the people they loved at all costs, even themselves. It was engraved in every fiber of his being.

"_Don't you move, Bitch!_" The ringleader yelled. Gemma had given up on pulling Jax, sliding across the living room to run for her purse on the dining room table. The men screamed, the Spanish lilt of their voices unmistakable as they yelled threats, a string of Spanish and curse words, footsteps stomping into the freshly polished hardwood floors and she ignored it all. But not to her own detriment, not at all. They caught her before she reached the gun in her bag. The two of them grabbed her, roughly pulling her arms behind her back, dragging her backwards.

But no one pulled the trigger.

That was a mistake.

Big mistake.

Gemma could size a volatile situation up in seconds—it was the life she lived, it was who she was. This wasn't a hit, not an execution. They were here to take them. And if the gun-shyness was any indication, they weren't allowed to kill them. Not yet at least. Gemma Teller didn't have any restrictions, none she would adhere to even if she had.

Jax was running towards his mother, screaming, "Get the fuck off of her!" He swung the remote in his hand hard, striking with all the strength he had at the first man to reach him, the unmistakable crunch of a shattered nose sounding as one of the men still standing near the doorway pulled his weapon. Reflexively, the masked man reached for his face as he stumbled back into the man behind him. Jax launched himself at him, slamming the remote hard on the top of his head as he jumped. He knocked one man on top of the other. Both guns they'd been reaching for fell to the ground, but not before one of them went off. The man moaning at the bottom of the three male pile up cried out, wheezing as he pressed his hand to the bullet wound in his stomach. Jax crawled over both of them, picking one of their guns up as he rose to stand. Gemma was struggling, fighting with everything she had, elbows flying, nails scratching, teeth biting. He couldn't aim, couldn't shoot—not without risking hitting his mother. One of the men finally let go of her arm, Gemma sagged to one side from the sudden lack of support. "MOM!" Jax screamed. He watched in horror as the man kicked his mother twice, flinched at the sound of bones cracking as Gemma doubled over in pain. Red flashed, permeating his vision. Jax saw nothing but as he aimed the gun in his hand, fire two shots in the man's back. Three more bullets for the man still foolishly holding onto Gemma while reaching for his weapon instead of releasing her to focus on the latter.

Then someone kicked Jax, two hard blows to his lower back, one to the back of his head with the butt of the gun in the man's hand as Jax fell down, face slamming into the coffee table. It was Gemma's turn to scream as he watched the man aiming his gun at the back of her son's head, his free hand pulling the ski-mask off to reveal the blood pouring down his face. She should have screamed, yelled, pleaded with him, asked him not to do it. Those were all things any normal mother would do.

But Gemma Teller wasn't a normal mother.

Dangerous, split second decisions weren't a rarity in the outlaw life. They weren't as few and far between as her husband preferred when it came to his sons. But Gemma never let her emotions cripple her, she never choked—the matriarch didn't blink.

In the seconds it took for Jax to hit the floor, she was already there. She was back up on her feet with the gun she'd taken from one of the men her son shot before the cool metal of the pistol slammed against the back of his head, before the first drop of blood oozed from her son's scalp. And when the enraged man raised the gun in his hand she was already pulling the trigger.

She didn't stop pulling it.

Not until all the bullets were gone, not until the man had fallen on top of her son. And when he fell, she kicked the other gun on the floor at her feet clear across the floor before running towards them. She kicked at the dead man, forced all of his dead weight off. "_Jackson!_" Gemma reached for him, struggling to pull him to his feet as the pain shooting through her own chest came into focus. "You okay, Baby?" Jax nodded, blood dripping from his bottom lip. He felt dizzy, felt a headache worthy of one Hell of a hangover coming on as the adrenaline ebbed, but nothing was broken. He opened his bloody mouth to say as much when tires screeched outside the open front entrance of the house. Jax grabbed the gun underneath the shattered coffee table where he'd dropped it, jumping up. He ignored the pain in his back as he ran towards the door. When he was only twelve years old, his Godfather Piney Winston had told him, "_You're one helluva shot for someone who's never aimed a gun in his life." _It had been over three years since he'd held one in his hand, since he'd practiced—three years since his father took him out into the ravine to teach him. The finger on the trigger hadn't lost its touch. He fired four times, three bullets successfully slicing through the tires. The blacked-out van swerved to an inevitable stop, crashing into the utility pole across the street. Gemma hobbled behind him, clutching her chest as he yanked the driver's side door open, dragging the man caught up in between the front seat and airbag out of the van. Jax threw him on the ground, stomped hard on his chest, kicked him repeatedly in his side, until the cowering, whimpering man rolled over, shielding his face. Something clicked into place at the gesture. Jax blinked hard, leaned down to snatch the ski mask off of the man's face. He was looking at a face he'd recognized. _Emmanuel_. The asshole that beat Wendy. The man he'd beaten with a pool cue months before. Jax's smile was sharp, predatory, but a smile all the same as he noted the faint, faded scars he'd left behind the last time they met. Then Gemma's hand was on her shoulder, her words were tickling his ear as she whispered urgently to her son, "_Kill him."_

Emmanuel's hand were a tent in front of his face, folded in prayer, in a silent prayer as Gemma dragged him up until he was kneeling in front of them. His words were a flurry of Spanish neither Teller understood yet his plea for mercy was palpable as Gemma dropped the gun in her own hand at her side, looking over at the conflicted blue-eyed boy standing next to her.

"Him and his men tried to hurt you," Gemma urged. She gestured towards her aching chest. "They tried to hurt _me.__"_

Jax shook his head, eyes darting across the street at the woman standing on her front porch with a shotgun, two young men standing behind her. "What about witnesses?" He stammered. "The cops will be here any—"

"No, they won't_," _Gemma told him. _"Finish it."_

Looking down at the man on his knees begging, Jax raised his foot, kicking Emmanuel in the face. The first kick that connected, blood spurting from Manny Salazar's mouth. It was around the third or fourth kick that his teeth flew out with it. One final blow sent him crashing sideways to the ground. Emmanuel rolled over, choking on his own blood.

_"Jackson_," Gemma insisted, shaking her head as he reached to slide a hand in the pocket of his jeans. Jax jerked his arm away, glaring at his mother as he pulled his cell phone out. "_It's finished!" _the young teenager yelled. "JT and the guys can do whatever the Hell they want with him. This is _their _shit!."

Multiple footsteps sounded behind him. A woman's voice rang out over his shoulder, the thick Jamaican accent reminding him of the college dealer Wendy bought her weed from.

"Even after that blast the cops'll pull up bout two hours later," the woman drawled. "Make sure John an'iz boys come round here fi clean up your mess, ya hear?"

Gemma's eyes briefly touched on the two men standing on either side of her, stopping on the taller, larger of the two a moment before finally touching on the woman's face again. "Sure thing, _Viv_."

Vivica nodded. "Let's go," she urged, tapping both her teenage sons on their shoulders. Turning her head as she walked back towards her house, she added, "Tell Happy I'll send his mom some tomatoes!"

_Jesus Christ, Ma...Where the Hell did JT move you to?_

Walking away from his mother and the man moaning in pain on the ground, Jax flipped the prepaid in his hand open. He had twenty-three missed calls, all from Tara. He ignored the message to check his voicemail, scrolling through the contact list for the latest burner phone number his father was using.

John Teller answered on the third ring.

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

**1:34 A.M**

"_Opie,_" Donna mumbled against his chest. When he didn't answer, she sat up, nudging him awake with the hand on his stomach. Opie cracked one eye open, smiling sleepily at the Raven-haired girl wrapped up in his arms.

Opie shook his head at her. "I ain't got the energy, Donna," he grumbled. "You gotta give me at least another—"

"Your _phone!" _Donna hissed, rolling her eyes. She turned her back to him, snuggling up with her pillow in place of him when he finally sat up to reach for the prepaid cell phone that had been vibrating nonstop on the nightstand for the past ten minutes. "Take that shit outside," his girlfriend demanded, her voice muffling against her pillow. "You're not the only one that needs—"

"OPIE!" Piney's gruff, angry voice was followed by several loud bangs against his bedroom door. It was a chorus of kicks and fist-pounds. "How many times I gotta call for you to answer your _goddamn _phone! Get your ass up NOW! You should have already been at the clubhouse!"

"I'm coming," Opie yelled, lowering his voice before adding, "_Hold your fuckin horses."_

"Yeah, I bet you are," Opie sneered through the locked door. "Your dumb ass needs to focus less on _cumming _and more on handle your responsibilities like answering the fuckin phone when a patch calls you!" Opie shook his head, quickly pulling his jeans from the night before on, along with the T-shirt. "You know what, shithead? _We're not waiting for you. _You better be at Gemma's by the time we—"

"_Hold on a second," _Opie interrupted, moving faster to put on his shoes and PROSPECT Kutte. "I don't remember the addr—"

"Then I suggest you figure it out, _GRUNT!" _Piney kicked his bedroom door one final time before his heavy footsteps faded at their front door which he slammed behind him.

"He's being a dick for no fuckin reason," Opie grumbled, looking at the half-sleep girl in his bed. "I'm sick of his shit. He doesn't give none of the other Prospects Hell like he's been giving me."

"_Suck it up,_" Donna mumbled, cracking her eyes open slightly when she smiled at him, "You're the one that asked Clay to sponsor you behind his back."

"I didn't—"

"_I love you, Opie," _Donna interrupted, turning her back to him. "But right now I love sleep more. See you later…._Grunt."_

Opie snorted, rolling his eyes as he walked over to her side of the bed, leaning down to kiss her goodbye instead of crawling back under the covers with her like he wanted to.

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

**2:13 A.M**

Wendy hadn't let go of his hand since the doctor let the two of them into his room. As they walked in together, Barbara's eyes widened in shock when the sixteen-year old blonde rushed ahead of her, all but clotheslining his own mother to run over to him, grabbing his hand, laying her head against his hospital gown-covered chest. Barbara surprised herself. She didn't feel disrespected, violated, not even the slightest bit offended. She was his mother, she was the one who should have been by his side, holding his hand, gently brushing his hair back from his forehead. Yet the anger, the annoyance she should have felt wasn't there. An eerie calmness fell over her as she stood at the foot of his bed observing—listening as Wendy whispered to him. Initially, the devastated mother couldn't understand what she was saying, couldn't make anything of it other than the fact that it sounded like the same words over and over again. The heels of her Mary-jane's clicked lightly against the floor as she made her way towards the reclining chair by the window. Wendy didn't even notice as Lowell's mom edged the seat closer until it was directly behind her. Barbara was looking over her shoulder, eyes flitting back and forth between her son and the teenage girl looking down at him. Her eyebrows threaded together in confusion as she finally honed in the young blondes words. _"I hate you, too," _Wendy kept murmuring. "I _hate _you," she quietly chanted over and over. But it wasn't hate in her eyes, the tears pooling in the corners of them wasn't from joy at seeing him as he was now. The way she was looking at him was the very opposite of hate. And without thinking twice about it, Barbara found herself lightly pressing a hand against Wendy's shoulders, guiding her son's distraught girlfriend into the chair she meant to be for her. She sat on the arm of it, holding Wendy's other hand. They were linked, together, the three of them. And they remained that way until the blaring started. Until the beeping sounded. Until Lowell's body began violently shaking. Until a team of nurse's and doctor's came running in, absently shoving the two of them aside. Wendy ran from the room, disappearing down the nearest staircase.

Agent Robert F. Kohn arrived just as the horrified blonde fled. The guilt-ridden agent caught his younger sister Barbara right before she collapsed at the sight of them rolling her sixteen-year old son out of his hospital room.

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

**3:02 A.M**

The sound of the house phone ringing felt like déjà vu. Tara opened her eyes, laying there as the phone on her nightstand blared. This was around the time she used to get the call to come pick up her dad from whatever bar he'd passed out in. Over two months had passed since she'd been woken up out of her sleep by anyone other than the boy who usually filled the empty space on the other side of her bed, the imprint-less spot she was currently staring at while the phone continued to ring behind her. Tara smirked, blinked her eyes against the slight blur of her vision, wincing and hissing a curse when she stumbled into the wall, banging her toe into the metal threshold lining the entrance to her bathroom. _She _was the drunk Knowles tonight. Or the hung over one at least.

_He hates me. _

It was the thought that had crossed her mind after listening to the generic voicemail box message on Jax's phone for the tenth time. It was around that time that she cracked open the bottle of whiskey she'd swiped from Piney's house when he wasn't home and Opie wasn't paying attention at the behest of a very persuasive blue-eyed boy. From the moment she twisted the cap off, Tara took knocked back a shot for every time she lamely redialed his number. She took two for all the pitiful, pleading voicemails she left after her twelfth time hitting the END button without speaking. Every message was a heartfelt plea for Jax to answer the phone, to come over so they could talk, so she could apologize—explain. She needed him to understand why she'd kept the truth from him, why she would have probably never told him had he not demanded she come clean. Sure, he was angry now. But he'd see clearly later. Jax was reactive. When he was pissed there was no reasoning with him.

Tara scowled at the phone still ringing on the nightstand when she walked back into her bedroom. She picked it up, ready to launch it across the room in frustration. She briefly scanned the caller I.D first. St. Thomas' hospital number had her quickly clicking the phone on instead of throwing it. Tara braced herself for the news about her father needing his stomach pumped. Or worse, Jax hadn't been ignoring her after all—he'd been in a terrible accident, laid down his bike when he took off in a rage. _"Hello?" _Tara half-whispered.

"Finally," Diane gushed. "Gracie, I've been calling you nonstop. Listen….your friend who slept over the night I came back to Charming—"

"_Lowell_." Tara's eyebrows rose. "What about him?"

Diane sighed. "EMT's brought him in a couple hours ago," she told her. "I didn't call right away because I didn't want to worry you without any real information to go on. I have no idea what the Hell happened but someone attacked him last night."

"Oh my God," Tara gasped. "Where did—I mean why did—_who—"_

"I don't know, sweetheart," Diane explained. "If the police have a suspect they're not putting it out for the public. I'm not even supposed to know anything about his case. I'm still in Ped's but I'm not working his corridor. I heard the other nurses talking. He was stabbed seven times—"

Tara clapped a hand over her mouth. "_OhmyGod—"_

"I'm so sorry, Tara," Diane said quietly.

"Is he….is he going to be okay?" Tara squeaked.

"_I don't know," _Diane answered. There was a pregnant pause where the only sound from either end of the phone conversation was Tara's sniffling. Then Diane gently mentioned, "Your other friend Wendy is here."

Tara nodded. "I'm coming up there," she announced, walking towards her closet. "I'm getting dressed now."

"I know I should have sprung this on you over the phone," Diane lamented quietly. "To be honest, you not answering scared me. I guess I just needed to hear your voice…know that you were okay. Anything could happen at any moment, you know? I don't care how pissed you still are at me or if you hate—"

"I'd never _hate _you, Di." Tara stopped shuffling through her closet, standing still. "You gotta know that."

A dry sob cut through the receiver pressed against Tara's ear before Diane mumbled, "I already sent Duncan to you. He should be there any minute now. He'll bring you up here and take you back home when you're ready."

Tara smiled. "Thank you."

No matter how angry and wary she was of her aunt, Tara couldn't deny that ever since she'd come back there wasn't a single time she needed her that Diane wasn't there. And as she listened to Diane graciously try to distract her with the boring day-to-day she'd been missing with them having spent very little time together lately, Tara couldn't help but feel the slightest bit guilty. Not for being angry with her—she deserved that. She felt bad because she couldn't ignore her heart telling her that right now there was someone else she needed more.

Tara knew how fuckin pathetic it was. It had only been a few hours since he'd rode off, leaving her all alone, crying in the middle of her driveway as she watched his Harley disappear around the corner at the other end of her block. She was wrong—she'd done the wrong thing. She'd hurt him, she knew she'd done it. She wasn't shying away from that fact. But ever since those three agonizing weeks alone while he sat in Juvenile Detention, Tara hadn't gone more than a few hours without hearing his voice, no more than a day without seeing his face and this was killing her. It had to be killing him, too.

Right?

* * *

**3:07 A.M**

Jax glanced at the Jameson Irish bottle in his hand. Then back up at the glass of water on the dorm room's nightstand. It was a brief back and forth, an internal confliction about whether or not he should ignore Chib's instructions not to mix booze with the Oxy he'd been given for the throbbing headache he had. _"Not so sure ya heart can take all of that, Jackie boy," _Chibs had warned him. Gemma immediately agreed, threatening her son with just her eyes as soon as Jax took the pills from his hand. Jax had shrugged his shoulders, quickly sulking off before they could notice the whiskey he'd swiped from the top shelf, tucking it into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie. Filip "Chibs" Telford was an army medic, not an actual doctor. What the Hell did he know? Part of Jax wanted to wash the pain meds down with some good ole Jameson just because he'd been told not to but he couldn't stop hearing her voice every time he went to screw the cap off. _"My heart….I don't want it to stop."_

Jesus Fucking Christ.

Tara was everywhere. She was on his mind when his mother demanded he pull the trigger. He kept picturing the way she flinched away from him in David Hale's room after he'd beat the guy who tried to rape her. How terrified and unraveled she was as she watched Unser drag him away in handcuffs after beating Kyle within an inch of his life for calling JT suicidal.

It was so easy to be that guy—the one she feared, the one she didn't ever want to recognize as the real him. He didn't want to be that guy. He didn't want it either. But once again, just like with every fuckin thing else Tara Knowles was a big part of the reason. Fuck, she was _most _of the reason. When the Hell did he decide that every aspect of his life should revolve around one person? One smart, beautiful, frustratingly selfless person. A person who influenced him without even trying to. This shit was really fuckin with his head.

When was the last time he even rolled one up? Smoked a cigarette?

Shit, he needed to smoke something. There was no rule about mixing Oxy with weed, right?

Where the Hell was Wendy?

His head was pounding and yet his mind was still in overdrive, working through the pain, driving him crazier with every second he tried to avoid thinking about her but couldn't. For every moment he tried to think of something else only to bounce back to his father's secret family—the reason he didn't want to think about her in the first place.

Tossing the bottle on the bed, he snatched the pills off the nightstand, washing it down with the glass of water next to it. The distinct smell of baked goods wafted into the room through the crack underneath the door. Jax shook his head, smirking. Bobby was back. And as usual he was making banana bread and muffins, something the club always gave him shit for even though it never stopped them from stuffing their faces with it. Standing up, he headed out, hoping to snatch up a loaf or two before Tig and the guys inhaled all of it. A conversation in the lounge between the four new prospects had Jax stopping just before the corner, leaning against the wall at the mention of his name.

_"So are you ever going to tell us what's up with Jax?" _Eric Miles questioned.

"You want to know something about Jax?" He heard Opie respond, burping right after. "Ask him yourself."

"I heard he's not prospecting because his _girlfriend _told him not to." Jax recognized the voice, but couldn't put a name to the face that popped into his mind when he spoke. He was more than ready to put a fist to his unnamed nose when the young, gabbing prospect continued with, "What's that they call it when you put off college? _Deferring. _Yeah, that's it. He's deferring his legacy right now. Guess the Prince is have too much fun following that Tara chick around like a puppy. Where's his owner at, anyway? I'm surprised she's not here with him right now. I guess she'll _whistle _for him to come back home later."

Jax clenched his hands into tight fists at his sides, a pang that hurt more than the pain in his back twisting knots into his stomach when he recognized Opie as being part of the chorus of laughter.

"Give him a break, Man," Niko commented. "He finally found a girl that gives good as she gets. I don't blame him for holding onto her long as he can. But his Old man's not just first nine. He's the_ founding President_. Y'all better stop talking shit about him. You know the walls have ears and somewhere down the line we'll be sitting in for Church with_ him_ at the head of the table."

"I think it's more than just some hot chick," Eric mused. "_What? _She _is _hot. Come on, Jason, tell me she's not! She's the definition of jailbait, Bro...Oh so none of y'all got nothing to say? Why? Cause _Opie's _sitting here?"

"Ain't nobody scared of this asshole," Jason answered, cluing Jax in on his name then. "I just don't think she's all that. I mean, yeah, she's cute but she's not Maggie fuckin Siff. And she's definitely not worth skipping out on your family over. He basically gave the club that helped raised him the finger because he's sprung like a goddamn bear trap on some tutor-pussy."

"_Hey_," Opie warned, his voice dropping along with the temperature in the room. "Keep talking that way about Tara and watch what the fuck I do to you."

"_Oooooh,"_ Jason taunted, snickering. "Uh-oh. I think _Jackie-boy _better watch out. His best friend's having wet dreams ab—_OWW! _What the fuck, man?! I'm just fuckin around with you. Why you so goddamn touchy? She's a _chick _man! You think they don't talk shit about us when we're not around?"

"They probably talk shit about _you," _Eric teased. "You desert-dick motherfucker."

Everyone was laughing again. Everyone except Jason.

"_Desert dick?_ What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means you stink worse than _Skeeter's," _Eric taunted.

"He's smells worse than all the dead bodies Skeeter buried _three_ years ago," Niko added, snickering. "Words getting around. You got the croweaters ready to start a union to defend their rights and shit. You know Racquel? She told Jury she's never sucking your cock again. Said you're nasty as Hell. And none of the girls want to _take care _of you because you like to reuse condoms you done emptied into with other broads."

"That's fuckin disgusting man," Eric said, groaning in repulsion.

"No blowjobs for you Desert dick," Opie taunted, chuckling. "Your shit's staying dry until you learn how to wash your ass."

"Maybe _Tara _can teach me," Jason goaded. "How long you think before little miss tutor gets bored with Jackson the mall-grunt and decides she wants to revisit her bad boy phase? Something tells me that girl ain't as innocent as she is _perky._"

Jax heard barstools shuffle, glass shatter and several bodies slamming into each other. He walked forward, stepping out where he could be seen just as Eric yelled, "CHILL THE FUCK OUT, BRO!" pushing Opie back while Niko and another prospect stood nervously in front of Jason. Both of them were shuffling their feet as if they were reading to dive the Hell out of the way, the second Opie got around Eric.

He didn't get the chance.

The chapel doors flew open, the elder, official SAMCRO members flooded out, Piney standing at the front of the pack. As to be expected, his disapproving glare zeroed in on his son.

"What the fuck is going on out here?" Piney barked. "We're in the middle of a fuckin meeting and you girls are out here pulling each other's hair like a bunch of high school kids."

"Opie _is _a high school kid," Kozik declared, shaking his head.

Piney turned, sneering at him. "And who's idea was it to let a _sixteen year old _Prospect?"

The debate went on long after Jax left. He'd went in and out of the kitchen through the revolving doors behind the bar without a single patch (not even Opie) casting a glance in his direction. He was completely invisible, irrelevant to the Club he'd walked away from. Throwing caution to the wind, Jax leaned back against the pillows chugging from the Jameson bottle he'd screwed the cap off of the second he reentered the dorm room.

If luck was on his side, the two loafs of banana bread he'd swiped from the kitchen would soak up most of the booze. If it didn't? What was one more trip to the hospital? The Teller's should have had their own person wing by now.

* * *

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**3:12 A.M**

"This was _Clay," _Barbara Harland muttered through clenched teeth as she glared up at her brother.

Robert Kohn forced the guilt-induced lump in his throat down as he shook his head at her conclusion. "We don't know that, Barbie," Robert lied, frowning.

_They _didn't know.

_He _knew.

Robert Kohn knew exactly who was responsible for the nephew he'd barely gotten to know being in the hospital. But he couldn't tell her. He couldn't even begin to explain, and certainly not in a way that would warrant even an inkling of understanding from the scorned mother. Her sixteen-year old son, her only child, her baby boy was fighting for his life. There would be no understanding shit. And Barbara Harland would be out for blood not justice. She'd cast aside any notion of working on their strained sibling relationship. Coming clean, trying to spin the truth in a light that favored the welfare and best interests of his estranged son would do nothing more than give Barbara yet another reason to hate law enforcement the way she always resented it growing up with a father who ran his household like an army unit. It had taken over sixteen years to realize it, to admit it, but he missed his sister. He didn't want to watch her walk out of his life again.

But he couldn't walk out on his son either—not when he needed him. He was a shitty husband, an even crappier father but he did his job well. And when doing his job meant the same as protecting the family he always put last it was the one instance he never failed them. He hadn't eleven years ago and he wouldn't let them down now. This he could do.

This he would do.

"Lowell was stabbed," Barbara reminded him. "Someone tried to kill my son. They stabbed him in his back _seven _times…fractured his skull…left him to drown in a pool of his own blood. This wasn't random….this wasn't burglary….the agent _you _hired to protect us was dead in the driveway…no one witnesses….no evidence…nothing missing from the house…the police haven't told me _shit _and according to you it's because they have nothing to tell. Lowell is my son. He's my _son, _goddamn it! And for all I know he could end up being another _cold case _stacked right next to that trifling bitch Stahl."

_"Excuse me," _Dr. Namid interjected, stopping beside them. "Are you Mrs. Harland?"

Barbara disregarded the question. "Where is my son?"

"He's on his way back up now," Dr. Namid answered, sighing. "We took him down for a CT."

Barbara pinched the bridge of her nose, swallowing hard. "And?"

"Under normal circumstances we would have taken him down for scans soon as he arrived at the hospital," Dr. Namid. "When patients come in with—"

"I worked here," Barbara interrupted. "I don't have to have an M.D to remember the drill, Doc."

Dr. Namid nodded once stiffly, eyes flitting down to the manila folder in his hand. "Dr. Nelson, our head of Neuro already left for vacation with his family in Florida. We're trying to get in contact with him for a consult—"

"Consult on _what?" _Barbara barked, losing patience as quickly as the color draining from her face.

Dr. Namid sighed. "We'll need Jim to confirm," he explained, frowning. "But it looks like a subarachnoid hemorrhage….he's bleeding into his brain. That's what's causing the seizures."

"So," Barbara swallowed hard, tears welling in her eyes. "He needs more surgery...He needs…._brain _surgery."

"Jesus Christ," Robert hissed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Barbie—"

_"Don't Barbie me!" _Barbara screeched, squeezing her eyes shut. When she opened them, the emotion reflecting back at him was pure steel—cold and detached. Yet there was resolution in them, a decision she'd made in the seconds it took to blink away the glassiness. "Can I see him?"

"Of course," Dr. Namid answered quickly. "You can stay with him long as you like. I'll come by to update you as soon we hear back from Dr. Nelson. Barbara….I'm very sorry for all of this. But I _promise _you….we're going to do everything we can."

* * *

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**4:52 A.M**

"You're full of shit, Duncan," Diane accused quietly. Her expression was a scowl of annoyance but it couldn't hold up—especially when her husband's own look of feigned innocence finally wavered. "I hate it when you try to manipulate—"

"I'm not manipulating anything, Dee," Duncan argued, smiling at the redhead sitting next to him in the St. Thomas cafeteria. "The trip really _was _for the two of us but I've got business that I need to handle overseas. A company I've been trying to acquire for—"

"I didn't believe it the first time you said it," Diane interrupted. She giggled when Duncan actually had the audacity to pout. "How many times has she told me—not just my brother—she told _me _she needs her space…that I'm…I'm suffocating—"

"There's a difference between giving her a curfew and inviting her to go on vacation with you," Duncan insisted, shaking his head. "A vacation for _two _that I already paid for. Something's come up. I can't go and I doubt you want to spend the week in Costa Rica with your _brother._"

"She doesn't even have a passport," Diane said lamely.

Duncan rolled his eyes. "Do you want me to ask her for you? I can say it's a gift from me to both of you."

"It _is _a gift to both of us," Diane clarified, narrowing her eyes at him. "Your scheming ass was never going in the first place!"

Duncan sighed. "Dee, you have to…."

Diane followed her husband's line of vision. Turning towards the cafeteria entrance doors, she stood up abruptly, walking around the oval table with Duncan on her heels. She met her niece half way, swallowing against the lump that began forming in her throat the second she caught the anguished expression on Tara's tearstained face.

"What happened, Gracie?" Diane asked.

"Mrs. Harland's got security blocking the whole floor," Tara said, crying. "It took forever for them to even let me in and when I did…LJ….h-h-he started having seizure before I could even get in his room good. They kicked me out….God….It was _awful, _Di…the scariest shit I've ever seen. I couldn't even….I mean…._and I want to be a _doctor? I couldn't even handle—"

"He's your _friend,_" Diane told her gently, pulling her into her arms. "That doesn't mean anything, Tara. Trust me, baby girl. There's a reason doctor's aren't allowed to treat their family and friends. That doesn't mean—"

_"There's something wrong with his brain," _Tara whispered against her aunt's shoulder. "It's more than just stab wounds….he's bleeding into his brain. It's getting worse and…and—"

"Who's the head of neuro, here?" Duncan asked.

Diane turned her head to look at him, shrugging. "I'm in peds," she answered. "I'm not familiar with all the other departments yet."

"It doesn't matter who he is," Tara mumbled. "He's not _here. _If he was maybe the staff could do more than lie to Mrs. Harland, telling her they're doing everything they can when they're not doing _shit!"_

"Everything is going to be okay, Gracie," Diane murmured. Pulling back, she cast her husband a smile of deep appreciation as she watched him quietly walk off, holding his cell phone to his ear.

* * *

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**5:12 A.M**

"Are you freaking kidding me?" Derek Shepherd grumbled, glancing over at the alarm clock on his nightstand. "_Richard…_Listen to me—wait, what? New state-of-art Telsa MRI machines?_ Wonderful._ Sounds like it'll be a very Merry Christmas for you and your hospital. What about _me?_ Are you going to let me camp out in one of them when my wife kicks me out of the house for missing our first Christmas with our children? That's not fair. You _know _I don't—_Richard, _I understand but its Christmas Eve."

_"Derek," _Meredith mumbled, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. "What's wrong?"

Derek pointed at the phone he held to his ear. "Richard wants me to fly out to California because some rich guy with a sick kid because he wants fancy new MRI machine."

_"That is _not _why!" _Richard Webber yelled. Meredith could hear him from her side of the bed where she was leaning up on her elbow. _"Never mind hospital equipment! There's a sixteen year old boy who might not get to spend Christmas with his family because some sick son of a bitch attacked him!"_

Derek frowned. "He was attacked?" he questioned. "I thought you said he had an aneurysm."

"I said it _sounds _like an aneurysm," Richard explained. "Sounds like he was attacked at home. A robbery gone wrong or something. Stabbed the kid about a dozen times and fractured his skull. All I know for sure is he's bleeding into his brain and he doesn't have much time before it's too late to do anything to help him. The man who called me isn't even his father. He's not a part of his family. He's just a _selfless_ guy looking to help out in any way he can so that this innocent boy gets to ring in the New Year with all his loved ones…like _you _will."

Derek sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the flashback, the bone-chilling memory of his own father's death—a robbery he didn't survive. Opening his eyes, he tried looking over at the bassinet on Meredith's side of the bed. The beautiful, sleeping child didn't help much with the unsettling feeling in his stomach. It hurt to even imagine a world where someone would attack his newborn son Bailey at any age. And no matter how disappointed his daughter Zola might be if her daddy missed Christmas, he knew he wouldn't sleep easy knowing he could have possibly saved someone else's child from a fate that damn near crippled him just at the mere thought of it.

_"Derek?" _Richard said. "You still there?"

"Yeah." Derek nodded even though he couldn't see him. Sliding off his bed, he walked around the foot of it, stopping to peer down at his sleeping son. Gingerly, he picked him up from the bassinet, rocking him in his arms, kissed his forehead. "Have his hospital fax me copies of his chart and every single scan they took. If the patient is stable I want another scan done right now and they need to make sure CT and MRI are available as soon as I get there. I won't know what I need until I get there."

"You're doing the right thing, Derek," Richard commended.

Derek rolled his eyes. "I'm assuming this _selfless _guy doesn't expect me to get there on a magic carpet."

Richard smirked. "His company plane is already waiting for you at the airport."

"Good," Derek said, sifting through his closet for clothes. "I better have those scans in my hand before I get there."

* * *

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**8:53 A.M**

_"Thanks for the ride," _Tara said, clicking her seat-belt off. Duncan pulled his Escalade to a stop at the curb, parking in front of her house.

"No, problem," he said, smiling at the brunette in his front passenger seat.

Tara moved to tuck her hair behind her ear, forgetting it was pinned up in a messy ponytail. She pulled at the ends of it, smiling bashfully at the billionaire sitting next to her. She'd never really noticed before. And yeah, it might have had a lot to do with everything he'd done for her friend but Duncan Kane was gorgeous. The deep blues of his eyes were almost prettier than the pair she'd been longing to look into ever since the night before.

Almost.

"Thank you again," Tara said, blushing. "I know you're rich and you can probably get people to do stuff for you easily but you didn't have to Lowell and his mom. Diane says all the other doctors are fawning over this surgeon guy you flew in. Even the guys. Sounds like he's very good at his job. It's nicest thing someone's done for...well, I know it wasn't really done for _me _but..Anyway, I see why Diane married you." Tara nodded at the Cartier watch on his wrist. "It wasn't just for your money after all," she added, winking at him.

Duncan laughed. He sobered up a bit before saying, "Listen….Tara….there's something I've been wanting to ask you. Your aunt's going to kill me when she finds out I even brought it up—"

"Is it about my Dad?" Tara interjected, unable to help herself. She didn't know if the shock in his expression was the result of her guessing correctly or something else and she didn't wait for him to clarify. "I didn't know about his liver. I can count on one hand how many conversation's I had with that man before you and Di showed up and they were all about what he wanted me to get from the grocery store. I would have donated," Tara admitted. "If Di changed her mind I would do it now. Even if I never spoke to him again after that I'd still do it. He's a shitty father, but he is my dad, you know?"

"Yeah," Duncan replied, pursing his lips as he nodded at her. "I do. You're selfless without billions of dollars to back it up. You're a lot like Dee. I just hope you learn not to let people take it for granted….take _you _for granted."

Tara smiled. "You make your billions of dollars being a life coach?"

Both of them turned to look through his windshield at the man walking past the front of his car. Arthur Knowles was mumbling to himself, eyes cast down towards his feet as he walked the path up to the front steps of his home, completely unaware that they were watching. Tara watched as he walked up and down her front steps three times, making it as far as the door, raising his hand to knock before walking back down the steps again.

"Looks like you've got company," Duncan mused. "And I agreed to take my wife out for breakfast at the diner _taste of Charming. _She insist that they make the best red velvet pancakes I'll ever taste. I was going to invite you…."

"You mean since Diane was scared I'd bite her head off if _she _asked?" Tara surmised, smirking when his eyebrows rose.

"You Knowles women are so damn abrasive!"

Tara giggled, jutting her thumb towards the pacing man in front of her house. "Can he come, too?"

"If you want," Duncan hedged, eyeing her warily.

Tara laughed harder. "Maybe another time," she said, showing the anxious man some mercy. He didn't want pancakes with a possible side of ulcer-induced blood-puking and she didn't blame him at all. She was nervous the first few nights they'd had their schedule family dinners.

Tara was pulling the handle to the truck door when Duncan said, "_How do you feel about Costa Rica?"_

* * *

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"You're a little early for family dinner, Arthur," Tara joked.

Arthur Knowles looked up, surprise shining in his eyes at the sight of his daughter walking towards him as a truck he hadn't even noticed drove off.

"Hey, Grace," Arthur said, waving his hand awkwardly. In the hand at his side, there was a square jewelry box wrapped with a red and green bow. "I wasn't sure if you'd be up this early since you're on break from school. But then I sort of remembered you always leaving the house in a rush even during the recess weeks and Dee told me something about you taking college courses? So, I uh….I was hoping I could catch you before you left for one of them, though I guess you've just come from—"

"The classes are in January," Tara told him, smiling. "I'm taking them in addition to my regular school courses. I decided to get extra credits instead of getting another part-time job. That way I can graduate early and just get one when I'm college."

"That's smart," Arthur said, nodding in agreement to his own words. "You always were a smart kid…"

"It feels strange asking you since this _is _your house," Tara mused, her smile slightly nervous, "But umm…..what are you doing here?" Tara followed his eyes to the velour box in his hand. "You didn't get me a gift, did you? I thought we agreed—"

_"I know," _Arthur said, finally meeting her eyes. "You said you didn't want me buying you anything. And I listened…for the most part. This isn't me trying to buy your love back, Tara. This is me trying to fix the mistakes I've made that I'm able to fix. And tech…technically I didn't get you a gift. This isn't really mine to give…" Tara's nerves were on high-alert, pores pebbling her skin as he held the box out to her. Slowly, she took it from him, drawing in a deep breath, releasing as she forced herself to take a look inside. The lid opened with a pop. Tara gasped, eyes darting back and forth between the necklace in her hand and the man observing her reaction with bated breath.

Gingerly, Tara pulled it from the box, holding up, watching it flit back and forth in her hands. A rose-gold heart with a beautiful gemstone set in the center of it hung from a thin, diamond-accented chain. The gemstone was emerald—the birthstone of May. Her mother's birthday. The day after she was born. When she was a kid her mother always joked that she'd gotten her birthday present a day early.

She was holding her mother's necklace.

Or maybe it was one that looked eerily like it.

"Christmas is tomorrow," Arthur muttered, shoving his empty hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I know Friday's our dinner night but I figured you'd probably want to skip it to be with your…your loved ones…I remembered it was your favorite. And I remember….I remember how angry you were when I pawned it after all my legal troubles and…and…everything with the mortgage before that whole incident with the counc—_Uh, _I just….look, I just remembered how much you loved her necklace…and when I couldn't track down the shop I sold it to I cracked open the phone book and got a hold of the jeweler who made the original….It was the first piece of jewelry I bought your mom. The first _real _jewelry anyway….I got it our first Christmas together in Chicago..."

"I know," Tara admitted, smiling at the necklace in her hand. "I used to make her tell me the story over and over."

"I know it's not the original," Arthur argued gently. "But I'd hope you won't look at it as me going against your wishes. Your mother always meant for you to have her necklace….this is just me trying to….to make up for taking a piece of her when…when it was the only memory I couldn't ruin."

Tears shined in Tara's eyes when she looked up at her father. "_Thank you," _she choked out. Stepping towards him, her movements hesitant before she finally ignored the part of her that wanted her to fight was she was feeling. Arthur's hand slowly crept out of his pockets, easing their way around to his daughter's back when she finally gave in and hugged him.

* * *

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**10:37 A.M**

It wasn't there usual approach, not even remotely. The prospects weren't the only SAMCRO members scratching their head at John Teller's plan to casually walk up to a house full of Calavarez patches to "talk to them." They were the ones doing the walking of course. Whatever therapy JT had been doing clearly wasn't helping much on the being crutch-free front. It was an observation Clay was sure to make every time John would weigh in during Church despite the fact that when it came down to it, he didn't have an official vote because he still couldn't ride.

Both Chibs and Padraic's hands dipped inside their Kuttes. Opie, Miles, and Niko followed their leads, gripping their guns, too as they watched JT knock on the front door with the ease of a next-door neighbor wanting to borrow a cup of sugar. As expected, the former SAMCRO President was greeted with a pistol pointed in his face.

"Are you out of your mind, homes?" Hector Salazar sneered. He briefly glanced at the five men standing several feet behind him at the edge of the dirt-road, hands gripping something underneath their leather. Realization dawned on the visibly rattled Latino, prompting him to reassess the situation. John Teller hadn't lost his marbles after all. Cripple or not, he'd come with backup—a crew of men who looked more than ready to start shooting if it came to that.

When it came to that.

"You Salazar?" JT asked, nodding his head up at him. He didn't wait for the answer he already knew before telling him, "I met your cousin a little earlier today. He says hi."

It was almost reflexive how swiftly Salazar clicked the handgun into lock and load position. The same could be said for the men pulling guns from their waist as they walked up the pathway. JT turned his head, shaking it slightly until his men, and Hector soon after slowly lowered their weapons.

"I don't know what the Hell you're talking about," Salazar lied.

JT craned his neck to peek inside. "You want to have this conversation on your front porch?"

After a pregnant, calculating pause Hector stepped aside, allowing him to walk into his house. The door shut behind the two of them while a group of SAMCRO watched, fidgeting nervously under the unspoken command to stay where they were.

"Hey, it's the cripp—_ouch!" _The twenty-three year old on the couch had a striking resemblance to Hector, especially when he scowled at the woman who'd just finished smacking him on the head. A bald-headed man with a handle-bar mustache and an older man with a greying goatee both snickered as they looked up from the Nintendo game he was playing. Their laughter died when they finally spotted the 'cripple' their younger cousin had been talking about.

"_Oh shit," _and "_What the fuck is this?," _were the automatic reactions of the two men as they automatically reached for the guns tucked in the back of their jeans.

JT didn't even react. Instead he looked at Salazar. "This what's left of your crew?"

"I got another charter in Tecate," Salazar. "They're on their way here now. Manny's Old man is the MC Prez and I think he's going to have a problem with his son not being—"

"Let's not talk about _sons _just yet," John Teller warned. "I need to focus on what I came for and thinking about what you"—JT took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. The subtle jump in his jaw was the only indication that he was anything less than calm—"I've got _thirty _charters worldwide, most of them Stateside and just a couple hours away if _I _have a problem," John Teller stated simply. Tucking the crutches under his arm, he pointed a finger at Salazar. "But you already know that," he declared. "You know what would happen to your MC if you start a war with SAMCRO. We have a saying in Redwood. _Brain over Bullets. _You acting alone? Trying to go head to head with us without backup? I don't give a shit how pissed you are about what my….my _son _did to your cousin. It's not a smart move for you or your club. That's why I know someone's backing you. Is it Alvarez? Who sent you after—"

"Are you kidding me with this shit?" Hector snapped. "You hobble your ass up here to play detective? I don't know shit about any—"

"Manny's still alive," JT told him. "Your crew is down by four but I didn't kill him…_yet."_

"You're _lying,_" Salazar sneered, showing his hand, admitting his involvement jut that quickly.

"Hear him out," the woman sitting on the couch implored. "Ask him what he wants."

Salazar turned to glare at her. "Cayate, Luisa!"

"_Fuck you, _piece of shit!" Luisa screeched. "He's _my _brother!"

"Let's just kill this asshole," Hector Junior suggested.

JT smiled at him. "You look just like your Old man," he told the trigger-happy youngin. "Not even a _hint _of your mother in you," he added, looking at Luisa. "_Just like my son."_

Salazar blinked once and he was on the floor, holding his eyes. Junior, his cousin and Mr. Goatee jumped up, quickly aiming their guns.

JT was faster.

The crutches fell from underneath his arms, those same arms crossed over his chest, pulling a gun from each side of his waist, firing three times before any of them got a round off. Three men clutched the gaping holes in their wrists and shoulders while Hector stumbled, falling into a nearby end table when JT kicked him hard square in the center of his chin when he moved to jump up with the gun that scattered underneath the coffee table at his wife's shaking feet.

"_Ah, ah, ah."_ JT shook his head at her, warning her with his eyes not to try reaching for it as the front door to the house was kicked in, Chibs and the rest of SAMCRO pack rushing in at the first sound of bullets flying.

"You good, brutha?" Chibs asked, scanning JT head to toe, checking for injuries.

JT ignored him, stepping closer to the man glaring up at him from the floor. The lack of even a limp as he walked towards him wasn't lost on anyone. "I'm going to try this again," JT threatened. "Who sent you after my family? _Was it _Alvarez?"

"You _know _it was, man!" Hector growled, scowling up at him. "You didn't have to come in here shooting to figure that shit out. You think you the only MC with charters all over the fuckin states? Mayans been stepping on my business ever since they moved into Lodi. I gotta make some hard choices, Mano. Whatever happened with your kid and Manny was settled. This shit wasn't personal. I'm not looking for a fuckin war. I'm trying to figure out what the fuck I gotta do to today that keeps me alive _manana_."

"I know all about being between a rock and a hard place," JT mused, nodding. "My beef's with Alvarez. You and your crew? You're just a mouthpiece."

"Well if you know that what the fuck you doing here, then, eh?" Hector Junior spoke out again.

"What Jackson did to your cousin," JT said. "That debt wasn't really settled…not the way I'm sure you wanted it. I'm out a couple thousand dollars in repairs for the house your crew shot up but other than a few bumps and bruises my kid's all good. No pool cues lodged in anybody's crotch. Coming after my family was a bad call but I'm willing to let the two affronts cancel each other out…_if_ you apologize."

"_Apologize?" _Goatee echoed, his voice ringing with incredulity.

JT nodded, slowly walking towards his club brothers and Godson. Effortlessly turning on his heel, he stood in front of them, gesturing towards them. "My crew had to spend the morning digging shallow graves and picking up shell casings. And now they're out here instead of with their Old ladies…stealing cookies from the plate they always tell the kids they're leaving out for Santa. You _ruined _their Christmas Eve." JT gestured towards his own chest. "You ruined mine too," he declared. "That's why I'm going to need an apology for what you put my wife and kid through as well."

Hector Junior smirked, rolled his eyes. "You're kidding me, right?" Junior looked over at his cousin. "This asshole is w—"

Luisa screamed, eyes squeezing shut against the blood splattering across her face as the bullet sliced through his neck. Everyone in the room with a gun raised it high, but they all still watched in horror, Luisa curling into a sobbing ball as her oldest child choking on his own blood before finally keeling over, falling into the coffee table.

"YOU KILLED MY SON!" Salazar screamed, charging towards him despite the guns being raised. The crutch JT swiftly bent down to pick up off the floor was waiting for him. As soon as he was within range, JT swung hard, kept swinging, beating him down to floor, swinging until he was sure to become a permanent part of the carpet. His two-man crew stood there, helpless to do anything as they looked at the five guns being pointed at them. When JT finally finished his vicious assault, one of Hector's eyes was completely purple, swollen shut, he was spitting blood and teeth on the worn carpet of his living room floor.

"A member of your crew _tried _to kill _my _son," JT retorted, speaking through his teeth, nostrils flaring, tilting his head to one side to glare at him. "Looks like your men don't know how to follow orders. Alvarez sent you to take them and one of them tried to put a bullet in my son's temple. I'm never been one to dwell on what _could _have happen but in this case I'm going to go ahead and call us even."

_"EVEN?" _Luisa bellowed, her eyes narrowed to slits, her body violently shaking.

JT barely looked up, wordlessly aiming his gun at her, shooting the grieving woman in her shoulder before turning his attention back to her husband. "That one was for Gemma," he clarified. Looking over at the men backing him, he shrugged his shoulders once. "_Principle." _

"I'm going to kill you, you son of a bitch," Hectort declared, crying. "I'm going to gut your whole fuckin family!"

"Maybe," JT said, smirking at the empty threat. "Maybe tomorrow…or next week. Not today though. _Today," _JT seethed, leaning over just enough to grab a tight hold on his throat, yanking him up. "Today you're going to apologize. And you're going to do it _right_ now because you don't want to watch your Old lady die the same way your son did…..or do _you_ think I'm kidding, too?"

Blood and spit splattered JT's face. Hector made it the wettest, nastiest, most nasally apology ever when he hissed out, "_Sorry."_

"Sorry for what?" JT prodded, providing the answer when the angry Mexican neglected to respond fast enough. "You're sorry for ruining Christmas Eve for my family," he coached, looking over at his crew, "_All _of my family."

_"I'm s…I'm sorry for ruining Christmas Eve," _Hector bitterly forced out. "For you and your family."

JT smiled, slowly released the iron-grip on his neck, stepping back slightly. "Thank you," John Teller said. There wasn't even a second between the two words and the moment he raised he raised his gun once more, firing two shots—one in the forehead of each of the two remaining members of Hector Salazar's Lodi crew.

"I DID WHAT YOU ASKED!" Salazar yelled, flinching at the sound of their bodies falling to the floor.

"I don't know about my crew," JT sneered, re-holstering his weapons. "But that apology didn't sound sincere to me at all..._Feliz Navidad._"

* * *

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Chibs and Padraic didn't say a word as they followed JT out of the house, leaving a grieving wife and husband to mourn all they had lost. The prospects were speechless too. At least until they stepped out onto the porch.

Miles was looking down at the blood-stained crutches in his hand—crutches JT should have been using instead of casually strolling towards the van he'd driven him up there in.

"_Holy shit,"_ Niko mused, shaking his head at the man climbing into the Van parked at the end of the road. "The Reaper's back."

Miles looked up at him. "_Reaper?"_

"Yeah," Niko replied. "I heard that's what they called him when he served. One of the men in his unit, dude he went to high school with…_Jury, _I think they called him. Every man in JT's unit was either captured or killed. Only two others had made it out. I hear John Teller doubled back against Colonel's orders. When he went M.I.A during an ambush they all thought he was dead or taken like all the others. He spent three weeks on his own, hiding out in the day, creeping up when it got dark. My cousin thinks the story's bullshit but—"

"It's _not," _Opie interrupted, rolling his eyes. "Piney was part of his unit, too. JT got them out singlehanded…eviscerated every one of those assholes one at a time, sometimes two. Took him weeks and he almost died himself but he got them out. Of course in _real _life, soldiers don't get rewarded _or _commended for breaking command even if they saved the day. They threw him out of the army. Asshole even threw him in jail. Lucky _Jury _had a cousin who was a judge. Called in few favors and he ended up with just a dishonorable discharge. Pop and Jury both served time for refusing to report for duty after. They eventually got the same punishment. And it wasn't Jury. It was _Piney _that called him Reaper. JT was the reaper behind him...always had his back. That's why we wear one on our backs."

"Man, I can't _wait _to get my ink!" Niko gushed.

"YOU GRUNTS WAITING FOR AN INVITATION?" Padraic yelled across the road as he and Chibs revved up their bikes.

The three of them started walking.

"Well_ fuck me," _Jason exclaimed. "I thought _Clay _was the ruthless one. But after the shit we just saw?"

"I know, right?" Miles agreed. "I know he's founding President and all but we were in diapers when SAMCRO was coming up. I never questioned JT being hardcore outlaw….but…I don't know, bro. He always seems so..._passive. _More like a laid-back hippie or some shit. I don't want to say I thought he was _harmless_ but—"

_"Harmless," _Jason repeated, nodding in agreement. "I thought the same shit, Dude."

"JT _is _harmless," Opie told them as they finally reached the end of the road, "_Until you fuck with his family."_

* * *

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**6:45 P.M**

Seriously, what the fuck was her problem?

Tara Knowles went three years without so much as a "Hello" from him and she'd been just fine. Fine was a relative term of course. She couldn't argue blissful happiness but three years ago she could certainly get through a chapter of advanced psychology without waiting for him to playfully stick the eraser of his pencil in her ear. Or his lips on her neck when she was trying to finish her math work. Or his arms around her waist, spooning with her, making fun of the novel she was reading, whispering each anti-anything-that-isn't-Shakespeare insult in her ear until she finally tossed the book aside to focus all her attention on the boy lying in bed with her. This shit was fuckin ridiculous. Hadn't she been the one to tell Opie she wouldn't put up with his shit? Even after he'd found out about David she'd swore that even when she messed up she refused to let anyone, especially Jackson Teller torture her because of it. She was human goddamn it.

Tara got nothing but his voicemail for the fifth time. Pressing the END button on her house phone, the hand clamped over her face muffled her scream of frustration as a word she'd often used to describe the teenage boy ignoring her calls came to mind. _"ASSHOLE!" _Tara growled. She launched the phone in her hand across the room, watched as it slid down her bedroom wall, crashing to the floor. "Fuck this shit," Tara hissed to herself as she charged towards her closet. She yanked the door open, sliding her clothes across the metal rack. She briefly paused, staring at the Christmas lingerie Chastity and Donna had to practically hold a gun to her head to persuade her to buy. Scowling at the lacy, red bustier top and matching boy shorts, she snatched the hat that came with it off, pulling it on her head before grabbing the red, sweetheart neckline cocktail dress buried in the back of her closet. It was old, something Gloria Hale bought for her. Three years ago. The extra height and added hips and ass her almost-sixteen year old frame had developed made the dress hug her body tight like a second skin. The black, strappy four-inch sandals she put on, the only dressy shoes she owned made the dress look even shorter, her legs even longer when she eyed her reflection in the mirror. The Santa hat was a nice touch. The word _naughty _sewn across the front in French script. Her outfit (or rather the way it fit her three growth-spurts later) definitely fit the description. Tara quickly ran a mascara brush through already-thick lashes, primped and fluffed the soft waves in her hair from being twisted into French braids all day. Her makeup was done with one final dabbed of strawberry lip-gloss over the red lipstick she'd lined her lips with first. The gloss made her lips pop. Tara couldn't help smiling at the end result of her makeup and her dress. When she walked into the room she had no doubt in her mind that all things male would spend only a minute on her lips. And a lifetime on her hips—and all the curves that came with it.

She could do this.

Jax would have to come around eventually, and when he did she'd be right there to apologize again. But until that time came, Tara Knowles wasn't spending another minute moping around her house. It was Christmas Eve. And she happened to know about a party—one she'd been invited to the day before.

* * *

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**10:15 P.M**

Tara had the right attitude walking in. But after an hour and twenty minutes of watching all the couples—young and old—twisting and turning on the dance floor the knot in her stomach returned. The first half hour was easy. People had been coming up to her left and right, wanting to talk about homecoming, trying to find subtle ways of asking if all the dancing Tara and her stand-in for Homecoming court exile Jackson Teller was really just a friend like she and Pierce had insisted every time someone commented on what a cute couple they'd make. Mrs. Palmer was there—and that woman was happy to talk Tara's head off, oozing with excitement about her prized student signing up for more college courses. Girls from her school (friends from Stephanie's circle) tried and failed to hide their jealousy as they grilled her about how she managed to tame _the _hottest, most unobtainable guy at Charming High.

That was earlier.

Eventually the adult fan club Mrs. Palmer had swarming around to listen to her gush and coo over Tara dispersed to do and talk about other things. Her female pairs lost interest once they realized Jackson Teller wouldn't be making an appearance after all. And the guys were either too afraid to approach her (probably because of Jax) or they were already part of a couple. Even Pierce Reynolds hadn't bothered to do more than wave at her.

Tara was standing outside—in a yard full of people, yet all alone. And the worst part of it was, even if they all were to gather around her again—talk to her, fight for the first dance with her she'd still be thinking about the blue-eyed boy that was ignoring her. The boy that wasn't home when she'd swallowed her pride and drove over there on her way to Stephanie's to see if she could corner him and force him to listen to her. Tara had her awful sense of direction to thank for her not stooping any lower. She didn't know Gemma's address and had never paid enough attention during the ride there on Jax's bike to find the house on her own. So she'd proceeded to Stephanie's instead. But suddenly her thighs were too chunky for the hip-hugging dress she wore. Her makeup wasn't worthy of a drag-queen and the heels that always made her feel sexy when she put them on felt like spikes stabbing into the balls of her feet. Sitting the champagne flute in her hand down on a nearby counter, Tara slipped around the side of the house without so much as a goodbye to the couple that had invited her. David and Stephanie were having too much with each other to notice her rude, abrupt exit anyway. She stopped in front of the porch, rummaging through the oversized clutch in her hand for the keys to the Cutlass.

_"You can't leave now," _said a familiar voice. Tara looked up to see the smiling faces of Chastity and Donna. "We just got here."

Tara managed a smile despite her foul mood. "What are you guys doing here?"

"What?" Chastity mock-scowled at her. "I'm not cool enough to get invited to parties?"

Tara giggled, shrugging as she looked over at Donna. "I figured you'd be, well _Donna _would be with Opie."

Donna rolled her eyes. "_Club shit_," she explained, her voice dripping with boredom. "He took off God knows where to do God knows what so I just left him a message telling him where he can find me. No way I'm sitting at home to watch my mother fawn over the new car _Sargent Step-Daddy _bought her as if she won't be the one making the payments on it two months from now."

"Is Wendy here?" Chastity asked Tara, nodding at the house behind her. "She was supposed to pick me up tonight so I could help her with _operation: sneak Lowell out of the house…._she never showed and it's not like she has a phone number I can reach her at, so I just called Donna instead."

"You called _Opie," _Donna corrected.

Chastity rolled her eyes. "Same shit."

Tara frowned "I don't know where she is," Tara admitted. "But she's probably with Jax. Listen...last night Lowell was—"

Donna's eyebrows scrunched together. "Jax isn't here with you?"

Tara frowned. "He's not talking to me," the brunette admitted quietly.

Donna rolled her eyes. "I don't even want to know," she said. "I don't even _need _to know. Whatever it is, he's wrong. And I know someone who _does _want to talk to you."

Chastity smirked, nodding her head at something over Tara's shoulder. "Are you talking about me or the guy that's breaking his neck to look at Tara from around the corner?"

Tara spun around, instantly locking eyes with a smiling Pierce Reynolds. The second he caught her eye, he began walking towards her. He was stopped briefly by an adult couple walking up to him.

"Seriously?" Tara heard Chastity whisper behind her. "What's he got that I don't I have?"

Tara heard Donna's muffled giggled as the pint-sized teenager laughed into her hand. "A _penis."_

Chastity scoffed. "That's what Dil—"

"Hey, Tara," Pierce said, stopping in front of her when he was finally able to break away. "I've been trying to get to you all night. Every time I try someone else's father is coming up to me to talk about football. _You're not leaving already are you?"_

Tara tucked her hair behind her ear. "Uh, Yeah," she admitted. "I guess I'm not really in the Holiday spirit."

"Aw, come on. I'm sure Santa will still bring you a little something," Pierce teased. He pulled at the white-puff dangling from the end of her hat, adding, "You couldn't have been _that _naughty."

Tara blushed, green eyes flitting up towards her forehead as if she could see the word scrawled across the front of the hat. "I was worse than you think."

Pierce smirked. "Well I've been _very _nice this year," he boasted. "I deserve everything on my Christmas list."

"What'd you ask for?" Tara wondered.

"Ex-_squeeze _me," Chastity chanted, easing past the two of them, Donna's giggling figure walking two steps behind her towards the backyard.

"Full scholarship to Penn State," the Charming Senior told her. "Academic _or _Athletic…doesn't matter."

Tara smiled. "_Nice._"

"I also wished for a higher score on my SAT's when I retake them in January," Pierce said, grinning mischievously at her. "More specifically, I want to beat out a certain _someone's _score from November..."

"I don't think you've been _that _nice," Tara taunted, smirking. "Hope you had a backup wish."

"I did actually," Pierce replied. It was the way he said it, the deep baritone of his voice and the way he looked at her when he said the words that kept Tara from asking what it was. But her shying away didn't matter. "Although I gotta admit this one's been on my list for a while now….I actually thought Christmas came early at homecoming a couple months back."

Tara looked away, blood flooding her cheeks. "_Pierce—"_

"And when I saw you here tonight," Pierce continued. "When you came here…._alone. _I was hoping I'd finally get what I've been wanting…that he'd finally screwed up for the last time."

Tara shook her head, frowning. "It's not like that."

Pierce was suddenly close enough to lightly brush the back of his hand across her cheek, to softly press his fingers underneath her chin until she met his gaze. "You want to tell me what it's like?"

What it felt like to kiss her? That seemed to be the question he was really asking as he gripped her chin.

Tara stepped back slowly, quickly as she could without offending him or hurting his feelings. "I have a boyfriend."

_"Jackson?" _Pierce shook his head, his expression solemn. "I don't get it, Tara. You're better than him."

Tara scowled. "Who the Hell are you to judge me _or _Jax?"

"I'm sorry, Tara," Pierce stressed. "I'm not trying to offend you, but that's just how I see it. I'm the only boy in my family. I've got two older sisters and one a year younger. And all of them date the same type of guy. They look over the dude that fits, the one they can trust, can rely on for the guy who can't keep it in his pants—the self-absorbed, immature asshole that can only show he cares by sleeping with them or balling up their fist to punch any guy that smiles in their direction."

"You don't even_ know _him," Tara argued, frowning.

"I know he _dated_ my sisters," Pierce told her. "And I hope you caught the 'S' at the end because I do mean _plural. _And when I say dating of course I mean _slept with _and never called back."

"I'm sorry he did that," Tara said, eyes briefly looking down at his feet. Then she met his eyes, forced conviction in her tone. "But—"

_"_It's _different _because he's with you_," _Pierce interjected, finishing her thought for her. "_He's _different because he's with you. That might be true, Tara, and if it is I can't really blame him for being a better guy for you. You're definitely the kind of girl that's worth it. I can see you being the one to change him instead of like all the other girls like my sisters who got burned trying. I just think you deserve someone that won't make you try so hard. And to be honest….it really fucks with my head when I see a beautiful, intelligent girl like you looking over the right guy for the dude that needs molding…and cropping…or more color. Your boyfriend shouldn't be an arts and craft project, Tara. I really wish you'd put down the scissors and glue, stop trying to _make _it fit…and choose what already works for you."

Tara cocked an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile twitching the corners of her mouth. "Are you the guy that _works?"_

Pierce shrugged. "I might be," he answered. "But maybe I'm _not. _Either way I'd rather root for a guy that won't ditch you on Christmas Eve or leave you alone and miserable for even a second….especially in that dress."

Tara smiled. "I _hate _glitter," she admitted. "You use it once, it's still in your hair and on your forehead five years later. When I was in Kindergarten my teacher wrote a note to my parents, demanding they send me to school with _fifteen _sharpened pencils because I wrote so hard I broke the points over and over…ended up spending half of the day at the front of the class sharpening my pencil. No one _but _Jax and Opie would dare let me borrow their crayons or their markers. I ruined them. And somehow my desk always ended up with more watercolors than the picture I was supposed to be painting. I was _three_ reading levels ahead of my class. And I could solve math problems most kids my age would need a calculator for. I was the brightest student in my class….until it was time for arts and crafts."

Pierce snickered. "I know," he told her. "I was in your class. You were awful."

"But my homework book was _always_ neat," Tara boasted, smiling. "After the first time my mother didn't even help me. She'd come home and sit a stack of old magazines in front of me. A picture for the color red, an item or place that starts with the letter 'G'. I'd find them all by myself. I'd cut the images out perfectly. I'd roll the glue on real smooth…even the liquid glue was a cake walk. My homework book and all the pages and pictures I put into it…it was _flawless._ I got four-pluses every time I turned it in." Tara's voice softened, her features gentle even as the smile vanished from her lips. "I've never been a fan of arts and crafts, Pearson. But when I find something I like, something I want to _fit, _I _make_ it work."

"Tara—"

"I know what I want to fit," Tara said, simply. "I know _who _I want to fit and I'm not afraid to crop out what doesn't. He's arrogant, he's annoying, he makes me want to punch him in the face and he's probably slept with every girl in this town that has pulse. It's something everyone _loves _to remind me of, as if I didn't grow up watching him run through them." Tara sighed. "There's more to him than what he lets everyone else see. You and everyone else already cropped out all the parts of him you want to focus on. I see the whole fuckin picture. And I _love _it. I'm not trying to offend you either but until you can see the full picture you and everybody else needs to shut up. I don't give a shit what you think—about me _or _him. Jax_ is t_he glue…we're _both _the glue. We hold each other together. And I'm not saying it's simple like cutting and pasting pictures into a marble notebook. I'm just saying it's worth it so _fuck you _to whoever disagrees."

"_Damn it, Santa," _Pierce hissed. The smile spreading across his face was playful, admiring even. "And I was so good this year…."

Tara giggled, pointing her thumb over her shoulder. "I'm gonna head home," she announced. "I hope you get everything else you wanted, Pierce. I think you will though…._as long as we're not up for the same scholarship," _she added, winking.

Pierce's scowl held up for two seconds before his playful grin returned. He really did have a gorgeous smile. And pretty eyes. He was six feet, four inches of handsome. A jock with a brain that he used on a regular basis. As he fell in step beside her, walking her to her car, Tara couldn't help musing that on paper Pierce Reynolds was the ideal guy for her. Even more so than David. He even loved all the same things she loved.

Almost.

He didn't love Jackson Teller, but she did. She probably loved him more than she should, but God help her she loved that blue-eyed boy so much. Even when it hurt. Even when he hated her. Tara Knowles was in big fuckin trouble. And there was no amount of molding or cropping that would help her.

"This is me," Tara announced, stopping in front of her father's cutlass. She gasped, green eyes widening slightly when Pierce's palm pressed against her waist, when he leaned down towards her.

He kissed her cheek.

Then he let her go.

All the panic was for nothing except Pierce's own amusement when he caught her initial reaction before she could mask it. Chuckling lightly, Pierce gave the white ball dangling from the Santa hat on her head one final tug. "I hope you have a _very_ Merry Christmas, Tara."

"Same to you," Tara replied, looking down at the driver's side door she was twisting the key in to hide her blushing face behind the thick, wavy curtain of her hair. "Good luck with the scholarships."

He stood there in the middle of the street jam-packed with parked cars. Pierce watched as Tara disappeared at the end of the block. Tara waved at him, smiling as she turned the corner. She didn't notice the truck speeding down the street behind him. Pierce Reynolds didn't see it coming either. He heard the screech of the tires, spinning around but not sliding out of the way. He tried to, but it was too late. Before his eyes could blink against the blinding headlights the truck was slamming into him. He flipped up, rolling across the hood, banging his head of the left bumper of the car parked directly in front of Stephanie Eglee's home. Only one thing was certain as the truck peeled off, as the crowd of guests in her backyard ran towards the front, as people ran out from inside their homes.

If Pearson Reynold survived, he'd need that academic scholarship. Any form of athleticism was sadly out of the question.

* * *

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**10:35 P.M**

Barbara stood at the end of her driveway, staring up at the house she used to call home—the house where her family lived peacefully once upon a time.

Doctor Derek Shepherd was a renowned neurosurgeon, published and sought after before he'd even completed his residency. Diane's husband couldn't say enough about him. When he'd arrived, one look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. It was everything she needed to feel in order to let go, to let the doubt in her mind dissipate. This wasn't a man flying across the state on Christmas Eve because of a hefty financial payout. The man who stood before her wasn't missing the holidays with his family for the sake of his wallet or even his career. She could see the pain, the war-scars, the empathy in the half-smile he offered her, in the brief shake of her hand as he introduced himself. Somehow, without asking a single question about his personal life she knew two things about him that she was never told.

He had a son—or maybe it was a daughter.

He knew pain just like hers—perhaps worse than what she'd had to endure and he showed up for those reasons alone, not because someone bullied him into it, not because of a bribe. He really wanted to help her son. And when he promised to do absolutely everything he could to save his life, Barbara believe him without hesitation.

_"I will do everything I can," _Derek Shepherd vowed to her before walking off to scrub in for Lowell Junior's surgery.

It was time for Barbara to follow the lead of the man her son's life now depended on.

Twisting the key into the lock on her front door, Barbara Harland made a vow to herself.

It was time for her to do everything _she _could.

For her son.

For her family.

* * *

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**10:56 P.M**

Tara circled his block, driving past his house six times. On the seventh, she kept driving straight instead of turning the corner again. She made it four blocks up before she finally caved. Swallowing what little was left of her pride, she turned the Cutlass back around, parking at the curb in front of his house.

Luck was really on her side tonight.

Gemma answered the door instead of JT like she'd expected. Two men Tara didn't recognize in leather Kutte's stood behind her. She didn't miss the guns they'd dropped at their sides when Gemma opened the door to reveal only a fifteen year old threat.

Gemma smirked at the surprise in Tara's eyes, the slight gape of her mouth at seeing Jax's mother standing in the doorway of the house she'd been kicked out of over a month ago.

"We had issues with the plumbing at my place," Gemma said, smiling. "Decided to exterminate while I'm at it. So I'll be staying here a while."

Tara nodded. "Is Jackson here?"

Gemma nodded once, her lips pursing. "He's in his room," she answered. Jingling the keys between her fingers, she tapped her hand against the purse tucked against her waist. Tara's eyes narrowed as she noted the way Gemma winced in pain at the slight movement. "I'm headed out to the store now," the wounded matriarch announced. "Only thing John's got in the fridge is beer, cheese and baking soda. I'm guessing _you're _the one that's been feeding him."

Tara smiled. No need to ask who 'him' was. "I like cooking," she admitted. "Used to help my mom when I was—"

"Well, you know where he is," Gemma interrupted, walking past her. Her smile vanished so quickly, Tara was sure she'd imagined it. "Go say hi. _You're with me _Lenny! Ace can stay and watch out for Jackson…..and his _girlfriend."_

* * *

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**10:57 P.M**

_"Yo!" _Devon Wayne shook her shoulders. "You aiight?" When she didn't respond, he smacked her across the face twice, one for each cheek, exhaling a heavy sigh of relief when Wendy finally opened her eyes to glare at him.

"I'm fine," Wendy said, rolling her eyes. "And if I wasn't, slapping the shit out of me wouldn't help. You can't smack the dead back to life, Dude."

Devon eyed her nervously, flinching, arms flying out to catch if she lost her balance. Wendy Case didn't look fine at all.

She looked like shit.

Her hair was a bird's nest, her blouse was soiled with dirt and dust from the floor she'd been sleeping on. Her jeans were stained with dried blood that he couldn't believe his cousin didn't bother asking about before letting her in here. He didn't know what the fuck this white chick was involved with. He just knew he'd never seen her in here before and the unblemished skin of her arms and wrists suggested she was a new customer for his line of business. Her makeup was smudged, the bottom lids of her eyes baggy yet somehow sunken. Whoever she was, she looked like Hell.

Devon looked to the right of him, shaking his head at his older cousin.

"You good, ma?" Traquan questioned, looking her up and down. When she stared blankly at him, cocking a single eyebrow, the only groomed attribute of hers at the moment, the dealer was quick to tell say, "_Hey, _I gave you a _taste. _That's the only free—"

Wendy silenced his sales pitched, pulling a twenty from her back pocket, holding it out to him.

"The fuck you doing, _Cuz?" _Devon said, knocking his hand down when he reached for the money. "She looks like she's in high school. Laroy said we ain't allowed to sell to—"

"I know what the fuck he said," Traquan barked, glaring at him. Turning towards a deeply amused Wendy, he nodded his head at her. "How old are you?"

Wendy smirked. "Do you _really _give a shit?"

"See!"

Traquan scratched at the fine hairs starting to grow back into his shaved chin. "Listen," he said. "You're just a kid. I ain't looking to catch a case for busting a cap in some redneck that thinks I turned his little girl into a Junkie."

Wendy's laughter was dark, hallow. "My daddy's a _rapist," _she told them, giggling. "What's that saying about the kettle and the pot? Yeah…I really don't see him judging you."

Devon sighed at the calculating expression on his cousin's face. "Tray—"

Traquan held a hand up, ignoring him. "You know better than to use too—"

Wendy was laughing again and this time there was a touch of sincerity in her amusement at the nineteen year old drug dealer's pretend concern for her wellbeing. He couldn't give two shits if she fell out and started foaming at the mouth. As long as she didn't do it on his doorstep—or at his 'place of business' for that matter it wasn't the least bit his concern.

"These _ain't _the drugs that need a prescription," Wendy mocked, rolling her bloodshot eyes. "You can keep your instructions, Dr. Dre. I don't need an adviser. My Junkie mom's been training me for this my whole life. You selling to me or not?_"_

_You're not the only dealer in Cali._

* * *

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**11:00 P.M**

Tara knocked three times.

"_It's open," _Jax answered, flipping to the next page of the Harley manual in his lap. He looked up as his bedroom door opened. And his initial response to the sight of her was a wide smile that reached all the way up to his eyes until he remembered why he was so fuckin happy to see her face. It was because he hadn't seen her since he'd rode off the night before—hadn't talked to her since she told him about his….his _sister._

Tara didn't even wait to reach the bed where he sat, his back resting against the headboard. She was apologizing for the millionth time her whole way over to him. He barely noticed the thin, neatly wrapped gift box in her hand. Tara didn't give him a chance. She'd already dropped it to the floor next to his bed, crawling over his legs to sit on the bed next to him, angling her body towards him.

"You can't just avoid me, Jackson," Tara urged. "That's not how we get past this. I have been calling you over and over. I barely got any sleep. There's so much going on right now, I've got so much on my mind and the one person I want to talk to is pretending I don't mean shit to him. Baby, I know you feel like I betrayed you but I didn't. I didn't _ask _to find out about them. It caught me off guard the same way Clay and your mom in the Chapel—"

"You really think I wanna talk about that shit right now?" Jax barked. "You really thought it was a good idea to bring up the _first _time you—oh wait, that wasn't even the first time. The first time was with that fuckin douche bag Hale. You're quite the _secret Queen, _Tara. I'm afraid I might wake up next to you one day and you're going to tell me you were born with a dick or some shit."

Tara narrowed her eyes to slits. "Are you really going to sit there and pretend you've _never _in your life kept the truth from someone to protect them?" Jax fidgeted on the bed next to her, blue eyes flitting back towards the book in his lap. She didn't notice anything but him reopening the book—to tune her out just as she'd done to him the first day they had detention together. Tara gently tugged it out of his grip, tossing it aside the way he usually did with her school books right before he pinned her down to the mattress and kissed her until her bones were Jell-O and her mind was focused on anything _but _her education. "I'm _sorry," _she said again. "I didn't want to tell you….things were going so good with your dad I thought that if there _was _something to tell he would have come clean by himself. But Gemma? Jax, you know I don't like _or _trust that woman. But she's your _mother. _And you were being awful to her. Treating her like some...some random person on the street that shoved your bike over. I couldn't stand to see that, knowing she wasn't the only one who…who….I mean, _did you talk to your dad? _God, I really hope I didn't upset you for no reas—"

"_Really, Tara?" _Jax growled, glaring at her. "So you're hoping that it _is _true my father has a bastard kid? Real nice, Babe. I'm glad you showed up. I feel so much fuckin better now that we've _talked."_

"I didn't mean it like that!" Tara argued. "I just," she raked a hand through her hair nervously, "I just don't know what to say to stop you from being so pissed at me, okay? You're not the only one that doesn't know what to say or how to say it sometimes…..you're brand new to me, too."

Jax smirked. "That was cute."

"Cuter than when you do it?" Tara joked, a hopeful smile slowly spreading across her face.

He didn't return it, extinguishing hers with the frown her formed instead.

"I'm _sorry," _Tara said yet again, placing a hand on his thigh. She slid her hand up and down, nudging his clenched jaw aside to press a kiss to his bare shoulder. "I know you're mad but I didn't hide it from you to hurt you. You gotta know that, Jax. And I've been trying so hard to make up for it by trying to fix things with your mother. I didn't want to fix it by you hating me."

The hand caressing his thigh was gradually inching up further, teasing the leg of his boxers as she whispered directly against his ear. "I'd _never _do anything to hurt you," Tara vowed, sucking the lobe of his ear into her mouth. "I don't just want _you _to feel better," she said, slipping her hand into the slit of his boxers, rubbing him, stroking him softly, lips tingling from the groan vibrating in his throat as she sucked and nibbled on his neck. "_I_ need to feel better, too Jax. I want us to _be _better," she told him. Tara curled her fingers into the elastic waistband of his boxers. Jax's hips rose, allowing her to pull them down to his knees. She struggled with trying to stroke him, kiss him and slide her panties off all at once for a minute before reluctantly releasing him from her grip. Jax's eyes flew open, unable to shutter the frustration, the disappointment of the absence of her touch. It was short lived when Tara quickly yanked her panties off, snatching them off when they caught on the heel of her sandals. She climbed onto his lap, hoisting the skin-tight dress she wore up over her hips, grinding against him slowly as her mouth captured his. His hands were all over her, groping every curve she had as if he needed to refresh his memory, frantically as if it were his first time having the pleasure. "I want you to trust me," Tara breathed against his mouth, hissing in delight as she rubbed his throbbing cock against her slickness. Jax reluctantly pulled back, reaching over to pull the drawer to his nightstand open to get a condom. Tara grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her—to see every fleck of brown hidden in her emerald eyes when she pressed the tips of their noses together once more. "You said I was the only one you could trust," she whispered against his lips. "I don't want that to change, Jackson," she urged. The slow, steady rock of her hips, the rise and fall of her ass was pure torture, pain and pleasure as the tip of his cock drew closer and closer to her entrance.

He needed that condom now.

Jax reached blindly, pulling the drawer out. Tara grabbed his arm, reached for the one gripping her waist, guided them both to her breasts, moaning when he flicked his thumbs across her nipples, rubbing the rosy buds until they were twin peaks poking out through her dress. "I _need _you to trust me," Tara implored. "I need you to trust me like I trust you….completely," she whispered against his ear, kissing the spot in front of it, "_With all of me."_

Tara eyes snapped shut or she might have caught it when his crossed. Their moans of pleasure were loud, completely in unison and unlike any sound they'd ever made before. Jax could barely contain himself, stop himself from losing it the second she lowered herself onto him, the moment he'd first experience just how fuckin amazing it felt to be inside her with nothing between them. Tara's thighs were spread wide, straddling his hips as she slowly began to ride. _"You feel so good, Jackson," _Tara moaned, rolling her hips. "_You always feel good…._so _good, Baby….you make me feel good everyday….all the time…That's all I wanna do for you," _Jax bit down on her shoulder to keep from crying out when she clenched around him, squeezing him like a vice, tighter than she ever had. She was panting in his ear, he was gripping her ass hard, palming it, pushing her down every time she eased her way up, the hand alternating between her breasts squeezing her just enough for the pain to feel good, so good when she took her sweet, precious, torturous time gliding her way back up with each twist of her hips. "_I want to make you feel good, Jackson," _Tara moaned, squeezing the nape of his neck, nails digging into his skin as she knocked his hand away, pressing, rubbing her breasts against his chest. The friction wasn't enough for either of them. Jax released the imprint-making grip on her ass, Tara stopped moving just long enough for him snatch the dress over her head, the _Naughty _Santa hat flying off with it. In the same motion, he bumped his way to the center of the bed, knees pointing out, his legs taking the shape of a diamond. Tara's hands gripped his shoulders as she rode him harder. He sucked her nipples in and out his mouth, groaning loudly as they bounced in his face, as she rode him harder, as he lifted up to meet her stroke after stroke, ignoring the pain and soreness in his knees from the exertion. His legs were shaking, but he refused to stop, even when the weakness, numbness starting to spread from his kneecaps down to his sweat-drenched calves. Tara grew impatient with the sudden unevenness, the loss of rhythm. She pushed against his chest, pinning him on his back, her hair tickling his chest as she leaned over him, circling her hips harder and faster, pushing back against him, pushing him deep inside her.

_"Fuck, _Tara," Jax moaned loudly, his eyes rolling back. "That's it, Baby…just like that…._ride my cock."_

"Do you love it, Baby?" Tara moaned, riding him faster, clenching tight around him every time she glided forward, tugging hard on his dick with her tight, wet heat.

"I _love _it, Tara," Jax groaned. His nails were digging into her ass again, one actually pierced her skin. "I _really _fuckin love it, Babe...Go faster... _Ride my cock like you love it."_

"I _love _it, Jackson," Tara cried, speeding up. "But I love you more, Baby. I love you _so fuckin_ much. You and your cock….._my _cock...I need you to tell me it's mine, J—"

_"It's all yours, Baby," _Jax groaned, catching her nipple between his teeth. "_Fuck..._it's alll yours..._OH, FUCK!"_

Jax wasn't breathing in oxygen, his lungs weren't pushing out carbon dioxide. Every inhale and exhale was a moan that penetrated the walls of his house, loud enough to drown out all the neighbors Christmas displays, to make the SON watching out for him downstairs feel extremely awkward, jealous or both.

Tara was screaming his name as she clenched around him, the tight grip of her pussy holding steady through every spasm that passed from her, shooting straight through his throbbing cock until he was exploding inside her. But Tara always screamed his name at the end.

It was him screaming hers at the top of his hoarse, overworked lungs that was unexpected.

To both of them.

* * *

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**11:15 P.M**

John Teller winked at the three prospects sitting in the Chapel behind the side of the table where Chibs and Padraic sat. Clay tried and failed to deduce why both SAMCRO patches and the three top rocker-hopefuls were swallowing smiles as they watched JT hobble his way to his seat next to Piney with the crutches underneath his arms.

"Everybody's here," Bobby announced, pulling the doors shut. Tig did his usual, circling the room, scanning for bugs before joining the rest of them at the table. "You were in Stockton all day, brutha," Bobby started in, addressing JT directly instead of the men who'd been with him. "Clay, Tig and I were getting a little nervous. Even Piney popped his head in to see what the Hell was up. You plan on cluing us in?"

"I went to visit an old friend of mine," JT said, his face its usual undecipherable expression. "Ran into a few old _enemies _along the way," he added, smirking with the rest of his partners in crime. "Nothing to bring to the table. I did hear something about Alvarez killing off the rest of the Lodi Calavarez charter. I guess he didn't want word getting back to us about him being the one that sent them after my family."

"Salazar's dead?" Clay questioned.

JT nodded. "Sounds that way," the poker-faced man lied.

"I guess that fucks any chance of you settling the score for the attack on Gem &amp; Jax," Clay mused, eyeing him. It was a testament to never-ending arrogance that he had the audacity to speak either name in the prescence of the club, namely JT.

"So, what did you guys do today?" Miles spoke out abruptly, cheer laced in his voice. Everyone laughed when Clay turned to glare at him for speaking out instead of being seen and not heard as was expected of propsects whenever they were allowed to sit in for church.

The chapel doors flew open suddenly.

Every head turned towards the entrance. Hands automatically on their guns, they didn't have to wait long before she slowly stepped into the room.

"Jesus Christ," Piney hissed, dropping his hand from his gun. "What the Hell is wrong with you, Barbara? Don't you know not just barge in here like that. I could have shot you dead."

"I supposed that would have been a more merciful death than stabbing me seven times." Barbara Harland's reply came slowly, barely above a whisper but it reverberated off the walls, off the large oak table between them as she slowly slid a hand into the purse hanging from the bend in her elbow.

No one missed.

JT spoke out first. "Barbara," he said. "What's going on?"

"You should ask Clay," Barbara replied, staring at the man in question. "Go ahead, John. _Ask him. _You all should ask him about all the _shit _he's been doing behind your backs….for _years. _ASK HIM!" She screamed, pulling a revolver from her purse. Several people jumped up, everyone's hands were up except Tig and Clay. Clay leaned back in his chair, Tig raised the gun he'd pulled from his waist. JT's fingers were tapping against the holster hidden beneath his Kutte as he remained seated.

"Whoah!" Miles yelled, jumping up with the other prospects. They all looked to each other, then back at all the members without guns raised, then at the one man who did have one, and then at the man the deranged woman was aiming her gun at. It was a relentless circle as they struggled with what they were supposed to do. Clay was the President, wasn't he? And his Sargent at Arms was raising his gun to protect him. Should they follow his lead or fall in line with Piney and the others who were too busy trying to reason with her, yelling over each other, pointlessly trying to talk her down as if she could make sense of anything they were saying if she wanted to? All it was to Barbara Harland was a chorus of loud chatter not unlike a high school cafeteria or an auditorium.

"What the Hell are you doing, Barbara?" Clay asked flatly. "I'm not Gemma. This isn't some Old lady you're pointing a gun at."

Barbara nodded fast, her chin shaking, eyes squinting. "That's right," she said. "Because women don't mean shit to any of you. Even the women who's snatch you were pushed out of come in second to the _almighty _club…the _gavel. _I knew _Old ladies _didn't matter. I know how you assholes treat women but _children….._children were your on redeeming quality. You'd never hurt a _kid…YOU'D NEVER HURT A_ KID!" she bellowed, crying as she waved her hand at all the men surround him.

"What the Hell are you talking about, Barbara?" Piney asked, gently as he could. Looking at Tig he said, "Put it down, Tigger. Nobody's getting shot tonight."

"You tried to _kill_ my son," Barbara sobbed, never taking her eyes off the guilty man. "Lowell's in a coma. I don't even know if he's ever going to wake up…and it's because of you," she screeched. She looked around, waving her gun at all the faces the barrel of the gun touched on, prompting the men to finally, reluctantly pull their own guns from their holsters.

JT's was resting against his thigh, underneath the table. "Talk to _me," _he urged. "We need to talk this through, sweetheart. You say he hurt LJ? Let's put it all on the table. We'll figure it out."

"_Please, _Barbara," Piney pleaded, shaking his head at her. "Let's just talk about this. Put the gun down…._please don't make us shoot you."_

Barbara smiled—her smile actually brightened her eyes, the dry, bitter chuckle hissing past her lips cut through the air. It was light, it was measured and the sound vibrated within the tightened chests of every man in the room as she pulled the trigger.

JT's hand flew from underneath the table. Tig's gun clanged to the floor seconds after, the crazy-haired man howled in pain as he clutched his bleeding arm.

Barbara fired three times while the men around him stood there frozen with shock—the bullets aimed by a rattled, desperate housewife slicing through the leather Kutte on Clay's back. After the third shot, Barbara dropped the gun.

She dropped the gun when she lost her grip.

Barbara Harland dropped the gun when JT finally aimed the gun in his hand at her, the bullet he shot cutting clear through, exactly where he'd wanted it to.

Straight through her wrist.

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

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**Part II **of Chapter 70 coming soon... (so any of the spoilers/sneak peeks/Riddles I posted on Facebook that weren't resolved are coming up.)

**|REVIEW|**


	78. Chapter 70: Part II

**Part II **of Chapter **70**.

**\- vERITABLE oLD lADY cROW**

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_I hurt myself today _

_To see if I still feel _

_I focus on the pain _

_The only thing that's real _

_The needle tears a hole_

_The old familiar sting _

_Try to kill it all away _

_But I remember everything _

_What have I become _

_My sweetest friend _

_Everyone I know goes away _

_In the end _

_And you could have it all _

_My empire of dirt _

_I will let you down _

_I will make you hurt _

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"_Can I at least get twenty minutes?"_

Tara giggled at the hungry expression on his face as he shook his head, blue eyes fixed on her breasts as he pulled the towel wrapped around her body open. Water shimmied down from the ends of her hair, dripping onto her damp shoulders. Her brunette locks were shiny, silky and ultra-soft from the conditioner he'd massaged into her hair.

Jax and Tara were making up for lost time—that is lost _hours, _not days apart. It had started on his bed when Tara straddled his lap, whispering how sorry she was while she rode him without the condom he'd been reaching for. And if his behavior was any indication, Jax had clearly missed her just as much as she'd missed him.

Sure, Tara would have preferred he used his words as she had, but she'd pacified herself with the notion that there would be plenty of time for them to talk things out. That was why she didn't worry when he hadn't whispered her favorite words to hear from him into her ear like he always did after.

It was because after hadn't truly arrived yet.

After had yet to come because Tara and Jax weren't done making each-other cum. Tara had slipped his T-shirt on, tiptoed outside of his room, down the hallway to use the bathroom. One knock on the door later, her back was against the wall of his shower.

He'd washed her hair after, something she often accused him of enjoying more than the sex. Tara's hair had gotten one Hell of a deep conditioner, too. Jax gave her scalp a thorough massage with both hands while she was on her knees giving him one Hell of a deep-throat.

Tara was pulling out all the stops and Jax knew it—he knew it because he could vividly recall every moment she'd given him head. Jax knew it made him an asshole for even thinking it but Tara's _"I'm sorry"_ blowjob was even better than the one he got for his birthday. And the one she gave him in the dressing room after his first shift at the mall, coincidentally the same day he'd practically shoved his History midterm exam in her face to show her that the low-cut top she was wearing when she helped him study wasn't distracting enough to stop him from scoring a seventy-nine (which was pretty much a ninety-five where his grades were concerned.)

"_Fine_," Tara said, knowing she wouldn't have much time before he pounced on her. She nodded at the discarded gift box she'd placed on the floor when she first arrived. There was a teasing glint in her green eyes as she asked him, "Don't you want to open your present first?" Jax opted to respond to her question physically, gripping the soft skin of her thighs to spread them open. Tara locked her knees, smirking when he scowled. "Present first," she demanded. Tara cocked an eyebrow at him when he refused to budge. "Open it," she directed, nodding towards the box again. She tossed one leg over the other, tapping the knee on top. "Then I'll open _these_."

Jax rolled his eyes, sighing as he bent down to pick up the box. "I told you not to get me anything, Babe," he complained, pulling the bow off. "All the shit you did for my birthday was more than..."

"I think I got the size right," Tara commented as she watched him pull the top off the box. "Oh my _God,_ you should have _seen_ the one's Donna—"

It was just a joke.

Jax was supposed to laugh, pretend to be offended, maybe even model them for her, walk back and forth a few times before his pride led him to bury them in the back of his closet before anyone saw them. When he looked up from the box, Tara's sentence faltered, her playful mood halted. His earlier glare, the same one he'd fixed on her when she first walked into his bedroom was back tenfold.

"What the fuck is this?" Jax barked, snatching them from the box.

"It's just a _joke_, Jax," Tara hedged, shaking her head at him. "It's not like I expect you to—"

"Find it funny?" Jax sneered. "Well I _don't."_

"Message received," Tara replied, frowning when he turned his back to her. "I guess I'll return mine, too."

Jax didn't even hear her.

Another voice was ringing in his head—blaring in his mind.

_"I heard he's not prospecting because his _girlfriend _told him not to…"_

Jax flashed back to the smile spread across her gorgeous face after their first round of 'making up'. Tara looked so proud—so fuckin pleased with herself, as if that was all there was to it. She could lie to him, ignore him, cheat on him even—she could do anything to hurt him, to disappoint or upset him and all she had to do to make it up to him was take her clothes off.

Tara thought all would be forgiven if she slept with him because that was all that mattered to him—that was all she needed to do to keep him in check, to control him.

_"….Guess the prince is having too much fun following that Tara chick around like a puppy…..I guess she'll whistle for him to come back home later."_

To own him.

Tara truly had no clue what was going on in his head, but the stony expression on his face, the way he slammed his dresser drawers shut after pulling a T-shirt and boxers out of them spoke volumes.

She didn't know how they'd gotten here, but she needed to find a way out.

"If we were at my house it would be fine," Tara said, getting up from the bed to walk towards him. Stopping behind him, she wrapped her arms around his waist, smiling at him through the mirror. "But you know how much Gemma likes to barge in without knocking," she continued, kissing his neck. "You plan on giving me a shirt to sleep in? I can't sleep in that dress. I could barely walk and breathe in it at the same time."

Jax didn't return her smile. Instead he raised both eyebrows at her. "You're staying over?"

Tara blinked hard twice, certain she just wasn't seeing his expression clearly.

Nope.

Her vision was every bit as clear as her hearing—She'd read him loud and clear. Yet she couldn't resist wishful thinking when she found herself asking, "You don't want me to?"

Jax shrugged, turning to walk past her, making himself comfortable at the top of his bed, the Harley manual he'd been flipping through back in his lap. He looked down, eyes scanning the pages as if his girlfriend wasn't standing in the middle of his room, naked.

Jax's head jerked up, blue eyes widening briefly when the book was snatched from his arms. Tara hit him over the head with it before tossing it across the room. _"What the Hell is your problem?" _Tara snapped, finally losing her patience. "I thought—"

"_I was over it?" _Jax interrupted, leveling his own glare at her. "You think everything is good between us now because you let me _fuck _you without a condom?"

Tara flinched, eyes blinking shut at the bite in his tone as if she'd been the one hit over the head. "I let you _fuck _me?" she fumed. "I thought it was _always love."_

Jax shrugged. "It _was."_

Tara shook her head at him, eyes widening. "You're overreacting," she told him. "I'm not saying you don't have a right to be angry but that doesn't mean you get to treat me like shit. I'm done apologizing. Either you forgive me or you don't."

Jax sighed, his glare disappearing. He scrubbed a hand across his face. "This is why I didn't call you back," he admitted. "Or come over. I don't _want _to be a dick, Tara. I just wanted my space. I'm trying to wrap my head around this shit and I can't do that with you breathing down my neck, telling me what I should do or how I should feel like you always do."

"You could have just _said_ that, Jackson," Tara responded, frowning. Jax pulled the SAMCRO T-shirt he'd just finished putting on over his head, handing it to her. "You always give me my space when I need it. But I _never _shut you out. You can't just ignore me and expect me to get the message. I thought you were just pissed because I didn't tell you as soon as I found out. I know it was wrong. We agreed. No secrets. That's why I've been trying to make it up to you."

Jax cocked an eyebrow at her. "That's what the whole _no condom _thing was about?" When she didn't answer right away, he scowled. "That's your solution, huh? When I behave, you _reward _me. When you fuck up, you _kiss it better."_

Tara climbed over his legs, settling next him, leaning on his shoulder. "Sex is the only part of our relationship that's always perfect," she admitted quietly. "It's not like you had to wait a year for me but given what you're used to I guess I've just been trying to make up for—"

"Don't try to twist this around and make it about my past," Jax accused. "That's not all it is, Tara, and you know it."

Tara sighed, raising her head to look in his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Jax rolled his eyes, pointed towards the white boxers he was wearing. "Should I take these off so you can _show me?" _he challenged.

Tara groaned. "How do I fix this?" she asked. "Why is there even anything to fix? I thought you liked—"

_"I don't want you to stay."_

Tara's breath hitched, eyes scanning his face for the moment his solemn expression would crack, giving way to the teasing smile she loved so much.

It didn't happen.

Tara nodded, her body trembling as she fought to contain her emotions—to keep the conflicting anger and sadness from piercing through the surface. She threw her legs off the bed, her back facing him as she leaned forward to reach for her discarded clothes, leaving the Santa hat on the floor as she swapped his shirt for her dress and panties. She was buckling her left sandal when she felt the bed dip under the weight of his knees when he crawled behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Tara looked back. Her lips were greeted with a kiss—it was soft, short but not quite sweet. It seemed he couldn't resist running his hand through her hair once before sliding around her, getting off the bed. "Good night," he said, heading towards the door.

The wait seemed longer than the couple steps until his hand was on the doorknob. He pulled the door open, and that was when she released her tongue from the death-grip between her teeth.

_"I love you," _Tara said, her back still facing him.

Silence.

Her words were met with silence.

No verbal response, no sounding of footsteps. He hadn't left the room without saying it. He wouldn't do that. Jax never left without telling her he loved her, not since the first time he'd said it—the first time they both said it. And those rare moments when it was her leaving him, he always made sure he told her, that he reminded her of it every single time.

Tara stood up, turning around to face him, swallowing against the lump forming in her throat. Jax had a lot on his mind. He'd admitted as such. And when she'd spoke out her voice was low. So he probably just didn't hear her.

"_I love you," _Tara repeated, staring at the shuttered expression on his face. Jax never looked more like his father than he did then.

Jax nodded, absently tapping against the door between the one foot out and one foot still inside his room. "Yeah."

Tara squinted her eyes at him, tilted her head to one side. "You're _that _mad, that you can't even tell me—"

His smile was one Tara recognized, but not because of her own personal familiarity with it. She'd come to know it as the expression he always wore when he was talking to or about her ex-boyfriend David Hale. Or Kyle Hobart. "I'm sorry, Tara," Jax sneered. "Are _you _mad at me for not telling _you _something?"

Tara's eyes darkened, nostrils flaring. "Oh I see," the angry brunette growled, nodding her head. "It's not _love _right now but you can _fuck _me. You're too angry to say I love you but you can tell me how much you _love it _when I suck your cock?"

Jax pushed the door all the way open, leaning back against the jamb, his arms crossed. "Who climbed on top of who Tara?" he taunted, raising his eyebrows. "I don't remember forcing you to your knees either. I wish you'd stop pretending you didn't get _exactly _what you came for." Tara gasped as she watched him grab his crotch. "_This _is what you missed, right? You can't go a night without it. You're hooked just like every other girl that's ever spread her legs for me. Hell, even that snotty bitch Lauren begs for it every time she sees me…always finding excuses to walk by my department of the store when hers is on the other side. She's been part of the Jackson Teller fan club ever since I fucked in her in the back of that van at the fundraiser. You remember that?"

Tara was frozen where she stood. Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides, legs shaking as she contemplated which one she wanted to do first—punch him in his stupid fuckin mouth or play soccer with his dick. Jax stepped closer to her, ignoring every warning the glare she leveled at him.

"Are you mad at me, Tara?" Jax taunted, smirking. "You _look _mad. I'm sorry, Baby. Come here, let me"—Tara shoved him back, stepping away from his attempt to grab her waist—"let me make it up to you. The way you _want _me to. I'll make it worth every angry word, I promise." Jax cocked his head to one side, smiling. "But I don't really have to, do I? I don't have to _promise _you. You already know how much you're gonna love it. _That's all I'm good for, right?"_

His head veered left, cheek burning red from the sting of her palm when Tara slapped him hard enough to rattle his teeth. "I am…._so sick," _Tara seethed, speaking through clenched teeth. "Of you putting words into my mouth. How many times do I—"

"Because you'd rather put—"

"_I swear to God, Jax if you finish that sentence," _Tara threatened, squeezing her eyes shut. "I will _never _do it again." Tara opened her eyes, head shaking, lip quivering, green eyes blazing. "_Never."_

"Sure you will, Tara," Jax sneered. "When you move on to the next—"

"Do you _want _me to move on?" Tara challenged. Tears suddenly glittered in her eyes as she shook her head at him. "I have done _nothing _but love you….and _defend _you. I told my aunt to fuck off because of you. And when she tried to tell me to be careful, I said I wouldn't regret this no matter what happened. _Four whole months..._it's been almost perfect..._almost,_" she told him, wiping her eyes. "I don't…..Jacskon, I can't…..I _don't," _Tara choked out, shaking her head. "I don't want to regret it. I don't _want _to but…._God, _Jax….I make one mistake and it's like _you _regret it. You _cannot _regret me! You can't regret _us," _she fumed, green eyes pleading. "You can't because….because then I'm going to regret it, too. And I can't….._I can't take any of it back."_

Jax looked away, cowering away from the steady stream of tears he caused, knowing he was wrong. Knowing he should fix it, but he couldn't. She already had his heart. She already influenced his mind, his every thought, she affected his relationships with everyone in his life, even the brothers he was supposed to be sharing a patch with. Tara had everything else.

His pride was all he had left.

Jax forced his apology down, swallowed his plea for forgiveness—struggled free of the chest-tightening urge to kneel in front of her and try to explain all the reasons why, to answer all the questions reflecting in the hurt swirling in her emerald eyes. Instead of meeting them again, he glanced down, blue eyes flitting towards the side of his bed—locking on the crisp, brand new boxers she'd bought him, zeroing in on the words _PROPERTY OF TARA KNOWLES _that were printed across the waistband.

The trigger Jax couldn't explain because he knew her response would only make the feeling twisting his stomach worse.

It was several minutes—felt like several hours before one final sigh blew past her lips. Jax met her eyes finally, just before she walked past him, walking through the door he'd opened.

Jax stood there.

He just stood there and watched her leaving, one foot finally stepping forward when she stopped in the hallway in front of the door.

Tara was looking at someone.

He couldn't see, couldn't hear a thing.

Then he neared the entrance to his bedroom just as Tara finally spoke.

"_Merry Christmas, Gemma," _Tara said to his mother. "At least one of us is getting what we wanted, right?"

Tara didn't wait for a response.

Jax stopped walking, coming to a stop beside his mother.

Both Teller's watched as Tara made her way down the stairs, wishing the two SOA members on guard for the night the same Merry Christmas before snapping the front door behind her.

Jax didn't even attempt to decipher the weird expression on his mother's face. Instead he quietly shut his bedroom door behind him, walking over to pick up the boxers he'd angrily tossed to the floor. Plopping down on the bed, he laid them out across his lap, fingers tracing the four letters of her name, a distant part of his mind finally registering her words.

The one's he'd neglected to notice until then.

_"I guess I'll return mine, too,"_ Tara had told him when he dissed her Christmas present.

It was supposed to be a joke.

Why the fuck didn't he take it that way?

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"MOTHERFUCKER!" Tig Trager screamed, clutching his bleeding forearm. His crazed, ice-blue eyes bounced back and forth from the man who shot him and the gun that had fallen from his grip as a result. "You shot"—Tig turned, eyes touching on all of the other men scattered around the room—"_JT fuckin shot me!"_

Chaos. Absolute chaos ensued.

Niko and Miles both looked at each other briefly before both prospects followed behind Jason who was already being shoved aside by an enraged Clay Morrow. "Get the fuck off of me," Clay bellowed, glaring at the hysterical woman on the other side of the room. Clutching at the blood oozing from the side of his neck, he yelled, "It's through and through, both of them! _Chibs! _Get me a fuckin towel and SOMEBODY KILL THAT _BITCH!"_

Kozik shook his head. _"Nobody's killing any—"_

"She aimed at ALL of us!" Happy bellowed, gun raised at Barbara.

Padraic grabbed Happy's arm and the gun in it, falling back into the wall when the latter man fought against his restraint. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"Lowell sent his _bitch _to do his dirty work!" Happy growled.

Chibs and Bobby were busy holding Barbara Harland steady—failing miserably as the woman writhed, wriggled and thrashed like she was having a grand mal seizure. "Get off me! Get off—GET THE FUCK OFF ME! I DON'T GIVE A FUCK WHAT YOU DO TO ME JUST AS LONG AS _HE'S _DEAD FIRST!" Barbara screamed, kicking her legs out towards Clay.

"_You think you can come in my clubhouse and kill me?!"_ Clay bellowed. "YOU STUPID BITCH!" Adrenaline temporarily abated the wounded man's pain, Clay jumped up from the chair at the head of the table, charging towards her in a blind rage that sent him falling back on his ass from the force of the chest he couldn't have anticipated had he even been paying attention.

Piney made three—Him, Bobby and Chibs finally subdued her enough, shoving Barbara's ass in a chair, pushing it hard underneath table, one man at the back, two on either side of her.

Opie snatched Tig's gun off the table, removing the clip, body-checking the dark, crazy-haired man before he could lash out in protest. "The fuck you think you doing, you little grunt-bitch?!" Tig sneered.

"Calm the fuck down!" Kozik barked, bravely sliding back and forth between the flying fists of Happy and Padraic.

"Tell _him!" _Padraic shrieked.

Happy pulled the KA-BAR from the sheath at his waist. Kozik lost his patience, elbowing him hard in the face, knocking him sideways into the table. He kicked the army knife underneath it before Happy could reach for it. The hard kick Padraic sent in Happy's direction landed him on the floor when Kozik shoved him back hard. Both men on the floor lunged for the spiky-haired blonde that put them there.

"_Enough."_

It wasn't the his voice, nor was it simply the man speaking out himself.

It was what they found when their eyes flitted to where he stood.

Stood.

John Teller was standing—he was up on his own two feet, glaring disapprovingly at all of them. Then he was holding a hand out to the shocked man who'd noticed him first. The ma that had been staring up at him, gaping ever since he'd bounced off his chest and hit the floor.

JT helped Clay off the floor and into the chair he'd vacated. Everyone, even Barbara watched as he effortlessly made his way towards her, absent of the crutches he'd been using several minutes prior.

Of course, the only surprised faces were the ones who'd missed John Teller's visit to the Salazar household.

JT looked over at a wide-eyed Tig. "I'm sorry," he said simply. Then he nodded at the Scotsman in front of him. "Chibs'll take care of you though."

"Aye." Chibs nodded. He clapped a hand against Barbara's shoulder. "But what are we gonna do about her?"

"Fuck _her," _Happy spat, glaring. "What are we gonna do about her Old man? Lowell put her up to—"

"Your _President _put my son in the hospital!" Barbara screeched, nostrils flaring, a growl rumbling from deep in her throat when the three men restraining her shoved her ass right back down onto the chair they held her in before she could fly off the handle again.

"I don't know what the Hell you're talking about," Clay choked out, leaning against the table for support.

JT observed him closely—quickly assessed the bullet wound tearing through his shoulder, the gaping flesh wound oozing blood from the side of his neck.

"This didn't happen _in here_," JT declared, shaking his head at Clay. "You were riding back and you got ambushed, barely made it to the garage before you collapsed. Kick your bike over, let the prospects take a wrench to it. I don't give a shit how you sell it. The cops come around asking questions, you know the drill. So does _Unser._ Romeo has concerns? Put this shit on the rival Cartel beef he's got going on." He looked over at the prospects huddled together on the other side of the table. "_Ope," _JT instructed. "You and Miles ride with me," he said, glancing over at the three men beside him, touching on each of their faces as he addressed them. "You and _Kozy _stay here, make sure everything"—when Chibs nodded before he could finish his sentence, JT felt no need to continue, instead turning his attention to Piney. "You good with Opie riding with me?" Piney nodded once, eyes flitting down towards his best friend's legs, bewilderment clear in his expression. "Good," he answered, smiling as he looked over towards the other prospects. "_Hap _can ride in the back of the van, makes sure Barbara behaves while…._" _JT smirked at the murderous expression Happy shot Barbara before saying, "On second thought, _you're _driving Hap. Bobby and Padraic can—"

_"Hold me down until you take somewhere you can get rid of me?" _Barbara surmised, narrowing her eyes at him.

JT's signature, undecipherable expression resurfaced. "If I wanted you dead, Tig wouldn't be holding his arm right now."

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Jackson Teller was problem enough. He couldn't afford another distraction, he didn't want any more competition. Not that Pearson Reynolds could compete with all he had to offer her. Sure, there was that one time he'd defended her at the diner when all those asshole jock friends of his and all those jealous, spanky-wearing sluts harassed her. But Pierce didn't know her, not like he did. No one understood Tara Knowles better than him. And no one would ever love her more.

But Tara couldn't see that yet.

That was why as much as it hurt, he had no choice but to end him. He had to put a stop to the next boy who would end up breaking her heart just like Jackson did. Just like Jackson was.

Tiny droplets of blood dotted the cracked windshield of his truck as Joshua Kohn sat several houses away, parked along the curb on the other side of the street. He was watching her like always.

She was crying.

His Tara was wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, tripping over the sandals on her feet as she made her way to the Cutlass parked in front of his house. Joshua looked up, murder in his heart as he watched the blue-eyed bane of his existence stare at her through his bedroom window. His fingers twitched with the urge to reach for the revolver at his waist, to pop the trunk and get a semi-automatic or the sniper rifle and put an end to the asshole that caused her pain.

But he couldn't do it.

Not yet at least.

Tara still needed time to realize that Jackson wasn't really the one for him. If he killed him now, she'd spend her whole life mourning a love that was never real to begin with. No, Jackson was safe for now. But it wouldn't be long. Tara was the smartest girl in the world—she was even smarter than him. She didn't _really _need tutoring. All those hours they spent together wasn't about math at all. It was a sign, Tara was throwing him a hint that took so long for him to pick up on that he'd nearly missed his chance. She loved him, too. She was just too afraid to act on it. That's why he would act on it for them.

He would act on it now.

Joshua pushed the driver's side door open, walking up the street towards her.

He was only one car away when Tara pulled off from the curb, driving away without the slightest clue that either boy was watching him.

The sixteen-year old too preoccupied with her leaving to notice the nineteen year old standing in the street in front of his house.

Or the nineteen year old too busy visualizing the _Just Married _wreath that would hang from the back of his car (or hers) when they finally rode off to their happily ever after to notice the woman watching him through her living room window.

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"Doctor Shepherd?"

Derek Shepherd nodded, still scribbling away at the chart on the counter he was leaning against. "It's Tracy, right?" the neurosurgeon responded, recognizing the woman's voice. "Tell your boss I've given his offer an _extreme _amount of thought like he asked but I'm _still _not interested."

"He told me you'd say that," Tracy Eglee told him, smiling when he finally looked up at her. "He also told me to ask if you'd mind giving it some _more_ thought while also handling the incoming trauma case ten minutes out," she said. "Unfortunately it's another teenage boy. One of our star football players at the local High school. _Got hit by a car. _Happened at my mother's Christmas party. Said Pearson was barely hanging on when EMT's got there."

Derek sighed. "That's very unfortunate," he said. "And I wish the very best for his family but I need to get back to mine. Where the Hell is your head of Neuro? I flew here for one case, a case I can monitor without—"

"It wasn't a hit and run," Tracy interrupted, frowning. "Some sick bastard mowed him down with his truck while he was crossing the street. I guess the Chief is hoping you haven't lost your _giving _spirit. This kid's got a bright future ahead of him_…if _he makes it."

"_Seriously?"_ Derek shook his head, disbelief and outrage marring his features. "You've got teenagers getting stabbed and run over by cars on Christmas Eve. I know violence happens everywhere but Jesus Christ. Someone named this town _Charming? _Seriously? _Seriously?_"

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"And you say, you got all except the first two letters," Deputy Byrd repeated for the fourth time. Clearly, Adrian was overdue for some coffee to wake him up during his late night shift.

"Yes," Chastity Palmer answered. "It was some kind of truck….a _SUV…_looked blue…or maybe gray…grayish blue, I think."

"It happened too fast to get a real good look," Donna added, rubbing at the chill in her shoulder. "But I'm pretty sure it was gray…it looked familiar, too. But I can't place it right now…."

"All but two," the nodding Charming Deputy mused, looking down at the partial plate number he'd been given. "That's pretty impressive, Chastity. You've got a good eye."

Donna sucked her teeth. Chastity settled for rolling her eyes, arms crossing over her chest. "My cousin's a cop," she said, stating the obvious. "So was my mom before she died. And my uncle is Chief of Police back in my hometown. I guess it's just in me to pick up on certain things. _Can we go now?"_

Deputy Byrd's eyes briefly scanned the notes on the pad in his hand before finally nodded his head at the two sixteen year old girls waiting impatiently to be given permission to leave the horrific scene outside of Stephanie Eglee's house just like all the other guests—the ones who hadn't witnessed one of their peers rolling off the hood of a speeding car. "If we need anything else—"

"Katy sleeps _right _down the hall from me," Chastity interrupted, smirking despite the darkness of her mood. "I'm sure Deputy _Palmer _will let me know."

Adrian Byrd smiled at her. "Right," he grumbled, yawning as he turned to walk off. "You ladies get home safe."

"In this town?" Chastity said, looking at Donna. "_Yeah, right."_

The front pocket of Donna's jeans beeped. She pulled the phone out, answering before the second ring cleared. "Take notes, _Opie! _This is what you're _supposed _to do when I call _your _phone. _Answer….._where the Hell are you?_"_

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

The lights were on in the house when he got there. Jax pulled his bike to a stop at the edge of her driveway, too preoccupied with the speech he'd planned, the one he'd already forgotten during the ride over. If he wasn't so busy going over his thoughts—so distracted by the gift in his hand he might have made the connection that while someone was home, it wasn't Tara.

The car parked in her yard wasn't the Cutlass she rode off in.

The Knowles' front door open before he cleared the top step. Jax stopped walking, confusion etched in every handsome feature he had as he watched Arthur Knowles step out onto the porch.

Jax blinked hard twice. Clearing his throat did nothing to dispel the awkwardness lingering in the midnight air as the two men stared at each other, the older of the two wiping sweat from his brow with the wash cloth in his hand.

"You moved back in," Jax said, finally breaking the silence.

Arthur nodded stiffly. "I didn't want to risk Gracie changing her mind," he admitted, grinning sheepishly at the teenager eyeing him warily. "Last time I was here she told me she was ready for me to come home. I didn't want to wait until she got back so I'm—"

"_Get back?"_ Jax shook his head, glancing behind the man at the top of the steps, frowning when he didn't see who he was looking for anywhere behind him. The man carrying a large cardboard box through the Knowles' living room was not Tara.

Maybe she was in her room. Where else would she be?

Arthur cocked an eyebrow at him. "She went on vacation with her aunt." The elder man's tone suggested he expected the confused sixteen-year old in front of him to already be privy to this information. "Dee's husband got her some kind of spa trip for two. I guess the Christmas spirit's got Gracie in a forgiving mood. She actually took her up on her offer. It was kinda last minute but Dee was so excited when she called me! Kicked that stuffy ass husband of hers to the curb without thinking twice...Should be nice. I hope they take lots of pictures. The most recent one I have of her was when she was—"

"Tara's _gone?" _Jax interrupted.

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"Thanks," Deputy Katherine Palmer said, smiling up at her partner as she reached for the steaming cup of coffee he held out to her. She took a measured sip, placing it on the desk when she noticed the file tucked underneath his arm. "Are those the results from—"

Deputy Adrian Byrd nodded, opening the folder before turning it towards her. "I ran the partial your cousin gave me—_kid's good by the way. _Real sharp. Pays attention to detail in stressful situations. Watching someone get hit by a car and taking the time to get the license plate number is impressive for a sixteen year old. You think she'll follow in her big cousin's footsteps? Head off to the academy?"

Katy shrugged, frowning. "My aunt Evelyn made Detective," she answered. "Chaz used to want to be just like her….but ever since she died—"

"I'm sorry," Byrd told her, rubbing her shoulder.

"Now all my mother does is guilt _me," _Katy mused, sighing. "_We live in a town run by criminals and crooked cops," _Katy shrieked, mocking her mother's stern 'guidance counselor' voice. "_You see what happened to my sister on the job and you still insist on wearing a badge!"_

Byrd smirked, solidarity clear in his strained expression. "Darlene gives me the _My heart stops every time the phone rings _speech every time I take the night shift. I get it, Kat."

Katy smiled, flipping through the pages in front of her. "Well at least theirs only _fourteen _possible matches," she commented.

"Even less when you take out all the vehicles that aren't trucks," Byrd amended. "According to the girls the truck looked blue or gray. Or blueish-gray. It was dark so they could have—"

_"Oh you've gotta be fuckin kidding me," _Katy hissed, looking at something behind him. "Not this shit again."

Both Deputies watched as a crowd of men and women in suits, FBI windbreakers emerged through the once quiet Police station entrance. This time around it wasn't ATF's biggest pain in the ass Stahl leading the invasion. Agent Robert F. Kohn walked in front, stopping in front of Katy's desk where Chief Wayne Unser met him.

"What the Hell is this?" Unser asked, waving his hand at the crowd of Feds setting up and invading the personal space of all his Charming PD subordinates.

Agent Kohn held a single white sheet of paper in front of him. "This gives me free reign to conduct my investigation—"

_"What investigation?"_

"—My team will be relieving anyone from your department that can't be used and because of your documented affiliation with the criminal organization under investigation I've been given permission to keep you in custody until—"

"CUSTODY?" Unser shoved the two FBI agents grabbing at his arms. Then two more joined the effort, the four of them successfully subduing the startled Police Chief, cuffing his hands behind his back, leading him back towards the jail cells in the back of the station, walking in silence as Wayne Unser yelled and cursed at the top of his lungs.

"What the Hell is this about?" Katy demanded to know as soon as she watched her boss being taken away.

Robert Kohn looked down at the badge on her chest. "Deputy Palmer, right? I hear you and your partner Byrd are the only cops on the job with integrity. You're not on SAMCRO's payroll, you just prefer to…keep the peace."

"You plan on Charging, Wayne?" Deputy Byrd cut in. "You can't contain him indefinitely. You don't have that kind of pull and I'll be giving your superiors a call to confirm that."

Agent Kohn smirked. "I don't doubt it," he said, nodding. "But until you _do _I'm in charge here. You two are free to go home for the night. Enjoy Christmas with your families. I'll call you when I need you."

Katy snatched her coat from the back of the chair she'd be sitting at, knocking the coffee she'd be drinking all over the desk as she flung it over her shoulder, shrugging her arms into it. The glare she shot him served as the only 'thanks' he'd be getting from her as she stalked past him. Her partner followed suit mere moments later, his gaze a little softer, but no less trusting even though he was happy he'd get to enjoy the Holidays with his wife and kids.

Robert Kohn watched as the last of Chief Wayne Unser's staff cleared the building. He was walking off to head for Unser's office when the something caught his eye.

It wasn't the spilled coffee spreading across the desk. And it wasn't the junk-food stash in the middle desk drawer Katy Palmer left cracked when she left. It was the folder open on the desk—more specifically the four letters peeking out at him on the second page, the one underneath the paper drenched in coffee.

K-O-H-N.

He pulled the soaked page on top off, casting it aside before picking the folder up.

_KOHN, SHEILA R._

It was the license and registration information for his ex-wife's car. Bewilderment twisted his rugged features of his face as he reached the for the cover page that he'd cast aside. The color drained from his face as he deciphered the poorly written cursive handwriting on the paper. It was a folder of possible matches for a car involved in a hit and run.

_Attempted murder of Pearson L. Reynolds. _

"Hey, Boss!" Robert Kohn looked up from the paper in his hand, fighting the urge to ball it up and hide in behind his back as a member of his team approached him. "Something's going down with SAMCRO. They got a _Clarence Morrow_ just turned up at St. Rednecks. Two GSW's to the neck and shoulder. Unser must have been keeping it quiet."

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

_Bleep. Bleep. Bleep._

He'd lost a lot of blood. Barely made it to the hospital in time.

The steady beep of the machine at his bedside was the first sound that came into focus—the very first thing his senses picked up on as Clay Morrow slowly regained consciousness.

Then there was the tapping.

And the whistling.

The light thump against the railing at the edge of the hospital bed, the hearty screech of a harmonizing man standing in the room—watching him, waiting patiently for him to come to.

Clay gasped at the sharp pain shooting from the side of his neck and shoulder. Slowly opening his eyes, he squinted against the bright white surrounding him. All the stark white walls, the light above his head and the dark figure contrasting with the room. The dark blob smiled, stopped whistling as Clay struggled to ease his back further up.

Clay's vision cleared, gradually, then completely as the young, handsome man walked around the bed, pressing the button for him—adjusting the bed so he could sit up straight.

"Bullets ain't so fun when the doc's pullin'em outta you," the young Irishman mused, smirking. "Cammy sends his best," Edie Hayes told the confused, bedridden man staring at him. "Da' couldn't make it Stateside. Too much…_excitement _around these parts lately. Doing business with the Mexican Cartel_….._JT laying his bike down….and now you're lying in a hospital bed….gunned down by the wetbacks you're supposed to be working with? Jimmy's starting to get nervous….about _everything _that's been going on over here in Charming…..and that was before he heard about your plan to move the MC out of guns. You know that can't happen, Clay. The army relies on—"

"_SAMCRO deals guns!" _Clay growled, ignoring the burn in his throat and the pain in his shoulder as he leaned forward. "I don't know who's been whispering in Jimmy's ear but it's all _bullshit!"_

_"Is it, _Clay?" Edie tilted his head to one side, a single eyebrow cocked. "Jimmy's got eyes and ears everywhere….knows all about your plan to hand over all our West Coast business to _Henry Lin…._McKeavey swears it's just a misunderstanding…My uncle's convinced Jimmy to hear you out before bringing it to the table with the Kings."

"It's that rat bastard _JT," _Clay spat. "Him and that fuckin priest!"

JT had been playing him all along. He saw proof of that as he watched the 'cripple' who hadn't made a single attempt to vote for months ride off on his Harley as if he'd never been in an accident.

As it was, he really hadn't.

The attempt on his life was calculated, yet poorly executed. Had it not been for John's neurotic wife, JT would have gotten two in the back of the head—quick and painless for the fallen President.

And the man who'd taken the gavel in his stead.

Edie Hayes glanced over at the leather Kutte laid across the chair by his bed—the President's patch sewn on the front of it.

"That's _right," _Clay barked, following his line of vision. "The gavel's _mine _and I'm the only one making big picture decisions around here. The Cartel was my action and I made the deal to _expand _our business not trade it off to some chink. JT's got the sympathy….the _pity _from my brothers. But when push comes to _blood _they always fall in line. John's been off ever since his kid died. Even his Old Lady's lost faith in him."

Edie chuckled. "I hear she's got plenty of faith in you.."

Clay smirked. "That's where the problem started."

Edie frowned, shaking his head. "This about more than you and JT's Old lady," he declared. "Jimmy's got real concerns about where power lies here in Charming….who's calling the shots….policy _changing…_things won't—"

"I'M THE FUCKIN PRESIDENT!" Clay bellowed, banging an angry fist against his own chest. "Tell that Irish prick nothing's gospel unless he hears it from _my mouth _personally. _I'm _the one calling the shots here in Redwood."

"_Aye." _Edie nodded once, eyebrows raised. "But does your _club _know that?"

* * *

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**NEW YEAR'S EVE**

_One Week Later..._

* * *

**_Dear Tara,_**

**_These past few days have been fuckin Hell! I missed you so much, Baby. I love you SO much and I'm sorry for every_**

**|## ## ## |**

**|## ## ## ## ## ## #######||## ## ## ## ## ## #######||## ## ## ## ## ## #######|**

**_Hey, Babe_**

**|## ###|**

**_Merry Chris_**

**|## ## #|**

**_I hope your Christmas was better than mine, Babe._**

**_But just in case it wasn't, I hope the gift I got you for Christmas makes up for it. I should have given it to you before you left._**

**_But then you should have never left at all. I shouldn't have told you _**

**## ## ## ## ## ## #######||## ## ## ## ## ## ###`#########`###########**

**_I hope you like this gift more than I liked the one you g_**

**## ## ## ## ## ## #######||## ## ## ## ## ##**

**_It's not that I didn't like your present, Tara. I just_**

**|## ## ## ################|########**

**_Dear Tara,_**

**_Your Old man told me about your trip to Costa Rica with your aunt. I stopped by your house and he was there. I hope everything works out for you and him. These past few months you've been trying so hard to help me fix things with my folks. JT first and then even Gemma. I never thanked you for all the shit you did for my Old man either. If I did I know it wasn't enough. _**

**_I hope you believe me (or Arthur likes me enough to confirm I'm not full of shit) but I came straight over as soon as you left. I should have never let you leave like that, Tara. And I NEVER want you to move on because I_**

**|## ## ## ## ## ## #####|`########|#####``#########|#########`#######'####|**

**#########`#######'####||## ## ## ## ## ## #######||## ## #|**`########*`#####**

**_Tara,_**

**_Babe….I've been fuckin miserable without—_**

* * *

"THIS IS _BULLSHIT!_" Jax swiped his hand across the dining room table, knocking every crumpled paper he'd tore out of the book, the pen he'd been writing with and the notebook itself onto the floor.

He was sick of crossing shit out only to write something ten times worse.

John Teller never went anywhere without a pen and a journal to scribble into for as long as his son could remember. And Jax knew all about the love letters his father used to write to his mother—every heartfelt word she'd pour over as she drank her morning coffee, as she got him and Thomas ready for school while JT was on a two, or three week run to some other charter. His mother always rolled her eyes when JT handed her the envelope, kissing her goodbye, ruffling both his sons' hair before riding off to handle club business.

But Jax knew.

Even as a kid Jax knew the letters made her happy—they were something for her to hold onto, to think about whenever Gemma dared allowing herself to worry that he wouldn't make it back in one piece.

Johnathan Teller—the fortune cookie.

Everyone, even the man himself was always telling Jax that he and his father were cut from the same cloth.

If that was true, why didn't words come naturally to him?

Why couldn't he manage to write something as simple as a letter apologizing to his girlfriend for being a Grade-A dickhead? Why couldn't he put it into words just how much he loved her? Say something better than just _I love you, _a sentiment Tara probably didn't even believe anymore.

JT made it look so fuckin easy.

How the Hell did he do it?

Glancing up towards the foyer leading into his living room, Jax watched as the man in question sat on the leather recliner next to the couch, pulling a pen and journal from inside of his Kutte.

Could he ask his father for advice? Certainly. Jax knew he could.

Should he ask? Every disastrous attempt crumpled and scattered around his feet next to the table meant more than probably.

But _would _he ask?

_"Fuck him," _Jax mumbled under his breath. He knelt down, grabbing the notebook and pen off the dining room floor. He'd do it on his own.

He'd do it his way.

He'd win her over the same way he had when they first started.

All he had to do was figure just how he did it.

* * *

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_"I missed you," _Duncan said, kissing his wife as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Next vacation really _is _going to be for us."

Diane smirked, lightly bumping the tip of her nose against his before turning to study the reflection of the two of them in the mirror mounted on the wall in the Penthouse Suite's front entrance hallway. "You look like Casper the ghost standing next to me," she joked, noting the gorgeous sun-kissed hue of her normally pale skin.

"That's because of all the sunbathing you and Tara did," Duncan commented, eyeing the faint tan line peeking from under the thin straps of her tank top. He couldn't wait to strip her down and discover all the others.

Diane frowned. "It was like pulling teeth to get that girl to even come out of the hotel," she admitted, sighing. "All she wanted to do was order room service and watch movies. I swear to _God, _I feel like strangling him!"

"Him?" Duncan's eyebrows furrowed. "Him who? Arthur?"

Diane shook her head, glaring. "That spoiled, cocky asshole Jackson fuckin Teller. I _knew _this shit was going to happen. That is _exactly _why—"

"Wait, hold on!" Duncan grabbed her before she could storm past him and start pacing. "How'd we go from talking about your vacation to—"

"You didn't think it was a coincidence did you?" Diane asked, rolling her eyes. "You thought Tara just had a last minute change of heart about wanting to go with me? That little skirt-chasing asshole she's dating might be charming, Baby but you are _not. _You didn't convince her to do _shit. _The only reason she showed up is because she was running away from whatever he did to make her spend the whole vacation crying and trying to kill herself with _Ben &amp; Jerry's. _Wait until I see him! I got some chunky monkey for his ass! I got _two _whole days. Two out of six. By the time she finally started having fun we had to leave. One look at the jet bringing us back _here _and she went right back to being miserable."

"You could have stayed longer if you wanted," Duncan said. "I gave Sampson the rest of the week off but I can book a flight for whatever Island you guys want to—"

"Gracie's not _going _to another Island," Diane interrupting, sighing. "She tried it the first time and the distraction didn't work. I wish I'd known the real reason she changed her mind before we left. I know just what would have made her feel better. Batting practice with that idiot's brand new Harley."

"I've been meaning to ask you about your juvenile record," Duncan commented, smiling. "I read something in those files….you really set his bike on fire?"

A smile broke through the contempt in Diane's eyes, the look on Padraic's face when him and his _what happens on a run _for the night came outside the SAMTAZ clubhouse to see his Harley up in flames flashing in her mind. "Some men are from the show-me State," she mused. "They need a _visual _aide to help them understand."

"You know I can take a punch, Babe," Duncan teased, grinning at her. "But I draw the line at my Maserati."

Diane sighed, her smile faltering a little. "What am I supposed to do here?" she asked him. "I can't say I told you so because that would hurt her more….I can't bash him…_or his head in _because I'll be back out in the cold the second they make-up...what do I do here? She's _miserable, _Duncan. I didn't even want to leave her at home alone. The only reason I'm here is because my brother moved back in. I'm trying to give him a chance. Give them some time, but he's probaby just as lost as I am."

"You were a teenage girl once," Duncan said, pulling her closer to him. "You love to remind me _and _your niece of it all the time. What made it better for you?"

_The only thing that made it better was when me and Padraic kissed and made up._

"Setting his precious bike on fire helped," Diane said, smiling.

* * *

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"You okay, Gracie?"

Tara pushed the freezer door shut, glancing over at the man watching her from the other side of the kitchen. Okay probably wasn't the best way to describe herself considering she'd been staring absently inside the refrigerator freezer as if she had the power to make ice cream materialize inside of it with her mind.

Tara forced a smile on her face, hoping Arthur didn't yet know her well enough to catch the insincerity. "I'm fine," she lied. "We're out of ice cream…I was trying to think of what else to get when I went to Monroe's. Do you need anything? Pack of sm—"

"Actually, I quit that, too," Arthur admitted. "I figure one malfunctioning organ is plenty….not like Deedee can donate her lungs to me..."

Tara's smile brightened just a little. "Good for you," she said, meaning every word. Jax might have looked sexy as Hell doing it, but Tara was still happy when she'd finally convinced him to stop smoking so much.

Or at all.

"You can tell me if I'm pushing," Arthur said, noting the way his daughter cringed at whatever she was thinking, "But you seem like you have something on your mind."

Her boyfriend thought she wanted to control him. Jax thought she was going to fuck around behind his back just like his parents did to each other. He thought she'd fuck him over the minute she found someone who….

Someone who didn't need "_Molding…and cropping…or more color," _Tara thought, her frown deepening as she recalled Pierce Reynold's words.

Hadn't she been the one to admit herself that she wasn't afraid to crop out what didn't fit? Is that what she was doing to Jax? Fixing him? Molding him into the kind of guy she could spend the rest of her life with?

_NO._

He was already that guy, even without all the changes…all the choices he made, and it didn't matter that it was what she wanted because he wanted all the same things she did.

Right?

"You're not pushing," Tara told her father, trying for a smile again—managing a tiny one. "It's just something I want to figure out on my own."

Arthur nodded. "Oh," he said. "Okay, well...if you make a list of what you want from the store I can go—"

"It's okay," Tara interrupted, shaking her head. "I don't mind doing it."

Arthur raked a hand through his hair, rubbing at the nape of his neck. "Uh, Grace," he mumbled. "I actually needed to take the Cutlass for an hour or so….I'm starting back working the late shift so I plan on going to afternoon meetings instead nights…and I'm supposed to pick your aunt up a little later. She's _insisting _on being there for my doctor's appointment to make sure everything's okay with my liver. Well…_Okay enough…"_

Tara nodded. "I left the keys on the coffee table," she told him. Walking past him, she surprised the both of them when she stopped briefly to kiss his cheek and embrace him in a quick, half-hug before continuing on. "If they have it get Rocky Road or Chunky Monkey…_both _actually. And some twizzlers…and mountain dew."

Tara froze.

She was a Coca-Cola girl ever since she was a kid and her father used to sneak her a soda while her mother wasn't looking. She couldn't even appreciate the memory—the rare burst of nostalgia, an instance where she could actually smile at something her father had done in the past, even if it was years ago. Tara frowned at her final two requests—Twizzlers and Mountain Dew. Lately they had been an automatic addition her shopping list whenever she went to the grocery store. Tara didn't even like Twizzlers.

They were Jax's favorite.

Was this what it meant to be a teenage girl in love? Did they always become so wrapped in a boy they couldn't be happy when he wasn't there? Couldn't see, taste, feel or hear anything without it reminding them of the one they loved? Even when it hurt like Holy fuckin Hell?

If this was what it meant to be young and in love, Tara really wished she'd listened to her aunt.

Before she let him have all of her.

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"You idiots still not done unloading this shit?" Piney barked. He was staring at the idiot he raised naturally. Opie scowled, placing the box marked _Albums _on top of one marked _Dishes _before stalking up the porch, past where Gemma sat overseeing the young, strapping men helping her finish moving back in.

Bakersfield was in her rearview mirror, and judging by the poorly-concealed smile twitching the corners of Gemma's mouth, the SAMCRO Matriarch considered her cracked ribs and the minor concussion her son had suffered from last week's attack worth it now that she was back at home.

Even if it was only for Jax's protection.

Jackson decided he was Team Momma's boy again just in time.

After she'd heard the news of Clay getting shot she'd stormed the clubhouse demanding to know what happened. Jason Owens, the most arrogant of the Prospects made the mistake of telling her to keep her nose out of club business. She didn't need Kozik, Happy or Tig backing her up to put the little grunt in his place but the knee-jerk response of JT's brothers and even the disapproving glare John himself shot the smart-mouthed SAMCRO-hopeful was enough to let her know her status wasn't as dismal as she'd assumed all those weeks she'd avoided stepping foot on the _Teller-Morrow _lot.

JT had given her orders, just like before only without the warmth his requests used to hold back when they were a team. Still, until she could truly get comfortable on the throne she'd nearly lost she had to play her role the right way. That meant falling in line like a good Old lady should, showing no fear and no tolerance for disrespect as she always had. That also meant busting that little tart Cherry's nose with her six year old's skateboard when she made the mistake of thinking Gemma's temporary exile to Bakersfield meant she could speak out of turn when Gemma told the Old lady's what she needed done for the New Year's Eve party JT tasked her with hosting at the clubhouse later on.

Back in her old house (even if it was the guest bedroom), her son was talking to her (even if he was moping about the girl she'd warned him off of from the very beginning), and all the women she ran before her dirty laundry was aired out were back in line, taking orders just like before.

Gemma Teller was feeling a lot like her old self again.

Fan-fuckin-tastic.

"Your son turned our dining room into a shrine of crumpled love letters to Tara," JT mentioned from behind her.

Gemma looked up, smiling. JT hadn't even noticed his slip, but she did.

He'd said _our _dining room.

"He's trying to be just like his _Old man," _Gemma teased, brushing her hand against his leg.

JT rolled his eyes, kneeing her arm away from him. "Prospects!" he yelled, looking past her at the three young guys unloading the _Unser Trucking _Semi-truck parked in front of the yard. "Wrap it up! Bobby's needs us in Stockton! _Diosa!"_

"The party tonight is about celebrating the grand opening of your _whore house, _isn't it?" Gemma questioned, cocking an eyebrow. "Why not just have it in Stockton instead of—"

_"When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it," _JT interrupted, walking past her, down his front steps.

"O-kayy, _Reaper," _Gemma muttered under her breath, smiling as she watched him walk over to where Piney was glaring a whole into Opie's face.

No wonder her son was such a fuckin mess.

He was just like his Daddy.

It always took a threat to his loved ones to get his head screwed on right.

_He's back._

The fearless, ruthless, abrasive Reaper she married was slowly coming into his own again. There was only one part missing—the side of him that he normally let no one _but _her see.

Love letters.

JT used to only be hard on the outside—outside of the house he was a fierce, relentless MC leader with his own self-righteous sense of street-justice.

But inside—behind closed doors, back at home where he could take his Kutte off, clean all the grime of the day off of it—that was when he'd let her in.

JT hadn't let her in.

For the longest Gemma thought she didn't want him to.

But he wasn't the man she grew to resent anymore.

The Reaper was back.

That was why she had to get him back.

She had to.

If only Gemma had been paying more attention to her husband's best friend. She might have noticed the cardboard box in his hand. She would have seen the letter he pulled from inside of it—realized the grave mistake she'd made pulling the contents of that box out of storage the day she'd decided to take Clay down for threatening her son. The box full of letters in Piney's hand weren't Gemma Teller safe yet.

She hadn't removed all the ones that could hurt her.

Gemma really should have been paying attention.

Because right then, as she gazed longingly at her husband with the wheels of grand scheming churning in her head….

Piney Winston had unearthed Pandora's Box.

And shit was about to get really fuckin ugly.

For everyone.

Especially Opie.

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

_"Jesus Christ," _Jax whispered, his voice smoky and breathless. "_…..you're so fuckin tight….so wet. God, you're so wet for me, Tara….You feel so good, Baby….so _fuckin _good….I love you Tara….I love you so fuckin much… … … Fuck, Tara….you don't how good you feel, Babe…..so fuckin good…you're _so beautiful, _Baby…..I love you…I love your eyes….so fuckin perfect…so pretty…she's…..she's….._fuck, _our girl's gonna your pretty eyes….beautiful just like you….Shit, Tara…..I'm _cumming, _Baby….I LOVE you Tara Grace….I love you SO—_

"TARA!"

Tara's eyes snapped open, fingers stopped moving. Snatching her hand out of her panties, and the other caressing her breasts through the baggy T-shirt she was wearing.

His shirt.

Tara sat up straight, smacking the back of her head on the headboard of her bed.

The banging started then.

Someone was banging on her front door like the fuckin police.

Glaring, she slipped her slippers on, yanked her robe around her body.

"HOLD THE FUCK ON!" Tara growled, changing gears to head for the bathroom. She couldn't wipe what she'd been doing from her mind. The shame and embarrassment, and the annoyance at being interrupted would surely linger long after she finished cursing out whoever was knocking on her front door like they didn't have the good sense God gave a fuckin Billy-goat. But she could at least wash the evidence from her hands.

Tara glanced at the clock on her way to out of her bedroom door.

8:47 P.M.

Her first day back from the most un-relaxing vacation ever and she'd slept the whole day through. If there were such a thing as a Ben &amp; Jerry's hangover, Tara Knowles had the worst case of one. The empty carton at the foot of her bed next to the Romance novel she shredded several pages of (Fuck you, Charming Public library!) was proof.

Tara nearly tore the door off the hinges, swinging it open—face contorted with the rage dancing on the tip of her tongue.

All the anger melted away when she saw his face.

In a matter of seconds she found herself consumed with worry and guilt. How could she even focus something so obtuse? A broken heart could never measure up to the pain she saw reflecting in the pale-blue eyes staring at her in desperation.

"I'm so sorry to bother you," Joshua Kohn rambled. He raked his hands through his hair, pacing back and forth on her front porch. "God, I don't even know why I came here. It's just my mom didn't call—didn't tell me _anything _about…and when I heard I just…._Shit, _I was _right _there, Tara," Joshua croaked, glassy-eyes imploring her to understand, to forgive him. "I was at the house when…and I saw this guy….he was standing in front of my house…_my dad is a fuckin federal agent for crying out loud! _You would think I'd know to….Jesus, I should have….Tara, I should have….God, maybe if I would have stayed and kept him company like he asked. Instead I left…I went on vacation with my—SHIT! No wonder my family's not telling me anything. They think it's my—they _know _it's my f—"

"_Calm down_," Tara urged, gripping his face between her hands. She pressed her thumb to his chin just hard enough until he finally stopped moving, stop talking. He simply stared at her, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes. "Listen to me," Tara demanded. "What happened to LJ wasn't your fault," she told him, shaking her head. "There's no guarantee you could have stopped it from happening if you stayed. You might have gotten hurt, too, Josh. And I'm really sad for Lowell but I'm happy you're okay. Your family...right now they're worried sick about LJ….My aunt, her husband flew in one of the best neurosurgeons in the country and they still don't know if he'll wake up…or what his quality of life will be like if he does…your mom and Barbara and _Wendy…_everybody's grieving, Josh. They're not shutting you out. They probably didn't call because they had a lot on their mind. And your _Dad…._he's a cop right? I bet he's doing what cops do. He's investigating, okay?" When Joshua nodded, Tara smiled. "He didn't call because he's too busy out trying to catch heartless bastard that tried to kill your cousin. And if he's half as good at his job as you were at tutoring me he'll be reading him his Miranda rights any day now….Okay?"

Joshua finally smiled, sniffling, rubbing the tears that fell from his eyes away. "If I'm such a good tutor," he asked, "Why you'd quit our sessions? I mean, I know you said you didn't want to rely on your aunt to pay for anything but I was willing to keep helping you out, no charge."

The truth was, she got tired of Jax complaining every time he showed up at her house and saw him there. The arrogant prick actually had the audacity to tell Stacy Wilson he'd _think about it _when she asked him if he would take her for a ride on his Harley one day. _"Just as friends," _Jax had taunted her smiling. "_It doesn't matter if she likes me, Tara. I don't give a shit about her. Her mother finally gave her permission to get her motorcycle license. She wants someone to help her practice. So what if she _flirts. _I'm just her _tutor, _Babe_."

Jax knew damn well Stacy was interested in more than riding lessons for that ugly ass Ducatti her mother's new husband bought her to ease the guilt of breaking up her parent's marriage. He also knew how much she _hated _when other girls even _touched _his bike let alone asked for a ride on it.

Tara compromised.

And the joke was on him, really. Firing her tutor just meant she'd have to study more on her own, something Jax complained about every time she went to the library—the only place he couldn't corner her and distract her with his hands and mouth (that one lapse of judgement in the Men's bathroom notwithstanding.)

"_Tare_?" Joshua called, placing a hand on her arm. "Where'd you go just now?"

Tara was too busy grinning at the memory of when they broke the door of the stall Jax forced her into—that and the shocked expression on that old man's face when they came out after.

"I'm right….."

Joshua eyed her, confusion twisting his eyebrows. "_Tare?"_

Tara looked down, embarrassment reddening her cheeks. Jesus Christ, she couldn't even have a conversation without thinking about him. She couldn't say the words "_I'm right here," _without "_Jax". _

Jax didn't deserve to have those words be exclusively for him.

It's not like she'd managed to convince him that it was true as many times as she'd said it to him.

"I'm sorry," Tara mumbled, cringing at yet another phrase that made her feel like a tragically broken record. She tucked her hair behind her ear, finally noticing the hand on her arm.

And the deep gash across his arm.

_"Oh my God!"_ Tara grabbed Joshua's hand, pulling him forward so she could get a better look directly under her porch light. "_What happened to you?"_

"Oh, wow." Joshua gently pulled his arm away, looking down at the deep cut zig-zagging along his forearm. It was nowhere near superficial. A little deeper and it would have surely needed—

"You're gonna need stitches for that!" Tara gushed, glancing over his shoulder. "Shit, My dad still has the—wait a minute, you drove here right? We can take your—"

"_I walked," _Joshua lied, shaking his head. He shrugged, grinning sheepishly at the disbelief flashing in her eyes. "I might have _ran _a few miles. Well…most of them. When I got home…I _rushed _home, Tara. I didn't want to believe what I'd heard was true but…but then I saw all the yellow tape…my house ransacked like something out of an episode of CSI. I just….I just wanted to get away from all of it…._I'm sure you don't know what that's—"_

"I do," Tara admitted. "Running is kind of my go-to….I even ran to Costa Rica for the—"

_"So that's where you went."_

Tara's eyes narrowed. "Huh?"

Joshua blinked hard, then he gestured towards her exposed wrists peeking out of her robe. "Tan lines," he sputtered quickly. "I know it's always sunny in Cali but you look a little more sun-kissed than usual."

_At least _somebody's _kissing me, _Tara grumbled to herself.

"Yeah," Tara said, looking down at his arm again. "You know what? Maybe it's not as deep as I think it is. I'll go get my kit and see if I can—"

_"Listen to you!" _Joshua chimed, smiling. "_Your kit! _You are going to be such an amazing doctor, _Tar-Tar_. You care so much about people—always wanting to take care of everyone."

The compliment and vote of confidence in her future—the first instance in a long time where someone was excited about her dream career instead of depressed and bitter because they hadn't figured theirs out—it was enough to allow Tara to suppress the annoyance that had surged through her body when she heard the awful nickname she'd asked him _so many _times to stop using.

Tara couldn't resist shaking her head at him though.

Or rolling her eyes before turning around.

"I'll be right back," Tara told him, shutting the door just as he stepped forward to come inside.

She probably should have let him inside to tend to his wound.

But given the messy state of the house due to her lack of cleanliness lately, Tara opted to save herself the embarrassment.

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

He'd finally done it—all by himself, too.

After hours of agonizing over what to say, Jax finally put it all on paper. He didn't aim for mushy, didn't try to write down what he thought he needed to say, or what she wanted to hear. Instead he'd finally put a pen to paper and wrote down only _exactly _what Tara would expect from him.

It was all he had.

And he wasn't Shakespeare so it would have to be enough.

It had to be, because folded into the tiniest square he could manage was a letter he'd written from his heart—it was tucked away inside the gift box in his hand. The gift box his mother had shocked him by helping wrap (after sneaking a peek inside and complaining that he never got his own mother thoughtful shit like that, of course).

Jax's heart wasn't quite in his hand.

And it wasn't really in the box inside the duffel strapped on the back of his bike. Tara knew where it was—she had to know.

And if she didn't, the letter he'd written would tell her.

It was fear and rattled nerves that had Jax parking all the way on the other end of her street. He didn't want to tweak her, give her an opportunity to lock her window, shut all the lights off and pretend she wasn't home. Seven days were seven too many. He missed her too fuckin much to let her turn him away.

Staring down at the neatly wrapped box in his hands, Jax was too preoccupied with what he would say to stop her from slamming the door. Or punching him. Or both. He was strategizing just how he could would get from groveling to gift giving—and then of course there was the making up.

He had something really special for her, and despite him being old enough to know crossing his fingers didn't really work, Jax crossed his toes as well hoping she'd know he was being genuine instead of mocking her when the time came.

"_Hey, Joseph!"_

Blue-eyes left the sidewalk he'd been absently walking across to meet the taunting smile of the last person Jax expected to see standing in front of Tara's house.

"Tara gave you your walking papers weeks ago," Jax fumed, glaring at him. "What the Hell are you doing here, _Bundy?"_

Joshua's smile widened, or perhaps it only looked that way because he was walking closer to him. "Do you like _anal_, Jackson?" Joshua sneered. "_Tar-Tar_ does," the crazed nineteen year old taunted. "_That's _why I'm here," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "She invited me over because she wants me to shove my cock up her ass and fuck her real—"

Jax lunged at him faster than a bullet's trajectory. Two seconds flat, Joshua was on his back, the back of his head banging against the asphalt. He was lying there, arms and legs still as a dead person, taking every blow, every angry fist and elbow Jackson Teller laid into his face.

He was snickering—Joshua Kohn was laughing like he was having the time of his life getting the shit beat out of him.

Then he heard Tara's voice.

"JACKSON!" the startled brunette screamed, dropping the kit in her hand, tripping on her way down her front steps.

That was when the laughing stopped and the desperate cry for mercy started.

"Please!" Joshua moaned. "I'm sor—"

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKIN MIND?!" Tara bellowed. It was the utter shock of her raising her foot—kicking him backwards that kept Jax's ass planted on the sidewalk when he fell down. "YOU HAVEN'T BEAT ENOUGH PEOPLE BLOODY IN FRONT OF ME?!"

"Tara!" Jax yelled, jumping up—pointing down at the bloody heap of Joshua Kohn on the ground. "I told you this asshole is a fuckin—"

"OH, I SEE!" Tara screamed. "You're here to _tell me _something now! You don't think you've said enough?"

"Tara—"

"You don't think you've _done _enough?" Tara screeched, shoving his arms away, stepping back from him.

"_I'm so sorry, Tar-Tar," _Joshua moaned. Tara caught his arm, helping him the rest of the way up before he could keel over after his failed attempt to stand on his own. "I didn't mean to cause trouble…I just asked him what you got him for Christmas and he flipped out on me. I didn't know you guys were f—"

"It's not your fault," Tara told him, glaring at the blonde-haired boy standing at the front of her yard. "Hold your head back," she instructed. She yanked her T-shirt over her head, holding it to Joshua's bleeding face.

Jax was too busy watching in stony silence as crimson bled into the |SAMCRO| tee to notice the way the wounded boy breathed in deeply, inhaling the Vanilla-honey scent he loved so much from _his _fuckin shirt.

"Just keep holding it back like that," Tara coached. "Think you can make it to—"

"_Ib fine Tare," _Joshua mumbled, pressing the shirt to his nose. "Can I use your—"

Tara nodded. "You remember where it—_Okay, go ahead…._I'll be there in a second…._leave the kit! _I'll bring it when I come inside."

"Tara—"

As soon as her front door closed, Tara spun around, green eyes blazing.

"You are _unbelievable," _Tara seethed, glaring at him.

Jax didn't even know where to start.

"_That asshole said you invited him over to _fuck _you in the ass!" _Jax exclaimed.

He probably should have thought about it a little more.

"_Really?_"

There was that nasty smile she flashed him when he walked into Mr. Whitman's office several months ago. If only cheated off her math test was the current offense. Tara crossed her arms over her chest, pushing the breasts spilling out of the spaghetti-strap undershirt out even more. Lord help him if she caught him sneaking a peek right then.

"Yes, Tara," Jax continued. "I just lost it—all I saw was red and I know—"

"_You believed him."_

"What?" Jax blinked hard, head veering back from the shock of her words. "No. Come on, Tara. _Of course _I didn't believe him. Why do you think I got so fuckin—"

"You want to know why I'm always running?" Tara cut him off. "Because I knew I couldn't _trust you…._not to hurt me. I didn't want to get hurt, Jax. All the awful shit you do—things I've _watched _you do with my own eyes…the violence and the...the disrespect for females...I let it go…I justify all of it bad things you do…I defend your hair-trigger temper….I blame your—"

"Tara, listen to me—"

"_No!" _Tara snapped. "I'm done listening to your _half-truth bullshit! _Sound familiar? The only liar here is you, Jax. You _lied _to me. You told me you'd never stop—"

"And I didn't," Jax urged, gripping her wrists hard so she couldn't pull away. "I _can't _stop, Tara. I love—"

_"I don't believe you,"_ Tara lied, squeezing her shut—blocking out the truth etched on his face.

She couldn't let him do it.

She _wouldn't _let him get off that easy.

And she for damn fuckin sure wasn't _getting _him off.

"I don't want you to stay, Jax," Tara told him, her eyes still closed. "I want you to l—"

"_I'm not leaving you alone with that crazy asshole!" _Jax blurted. "You can stay pissed at me all you want but I'm not—"

_"Crazy?"_ Tara's eyes flew open. And the anger blurring her vision was enough to shield her from the effect Jax's eyes had on her. "You think _Joshua _is the crazy one? What about _you? _Right about now, you're the one that's a few fries short of a Happy meal. You really expect me to believe he said that? Why in the _world _would he say something like—"

"Because he's fuckin nuts!" Jax stressed, blue eyes ballooning. "He's half-baked and you just don't s—"

"But what about _you, _Jackson?" Tara interrupted again. She raised a hand to his face, caressing his cheek softly as she stepped closer to him, lowering her voice. "What about you and your split personality? _Jekyll-_Jax loves me _so _fuckin much, Baby. But _Hyde-Jax….._the only time he shows up is when he wants me to suck his dick in the shower while he pulls my hair and tells me I'm _fuckin perfect. _Which one of you showed up here tonight, Jackson? The way you're looking at me, I want to say you're _Jekyll _but I don't think he would lie on an innocent guy just because he can't control his jealous rage."

"I fucked up," Jax admitted. "I fucked up worse than you did and I'm—"

Tara stepped back, holding her hands up between them—pushed him away when he tried to close the gap again. "I was waiting for it," Tara said. "Waiting for you to bring it up again."

"Tara, I—_Tara, what the fuck are you"—_Jax grabbed her hands, pulling them off his belt buckle, yanking off the ground where she'd dropped to her knees in front of him—"TARA!"

It took all the strength she had not to punch him in the face when she saw his expression.

Did he actually believe she was willing to stoop that low?

On the fuckin sidewalk?

OBVIOUSLY she was kidding.

No, not kidding.

She was taking a page out of his book.

Overreacting.

Being melodramatic.

"What's wrong, Baby?" Tara taunted, snatching a hand away from him to wipe the tears from her eyes. "This is perfect, Jackson. Maybe if I show you how _sorry _I am where EVERYONE can see you'll finally stop—"

"I'm not—Tara you're being—"

"_Ridiculous?" _Tara mushed his forehead. "Ridiculous is your _middle _name! GO away, Jax! I can't even look at you right now. Pierce was right. The only—"

"_Pierce? _Who the—_what do you—_right about wh—"

"_You're self-absorbed," _Tara accused. "Every-fuckin-thing is about _you! _And the only way you can show me you give a shit is by _fuckin _my brains out—which you've done an _amazing_ job of, by the way. I can't even _think _straight—"

"Tara—"

"This isn't _love, _Jax." Tara shook her head at him. "Beating someone bloody just because they appreciate me when _you _don't isn't love. It's _possession."_

"I am _so _sorry, Tara," Jax urged, reaching for her. "I didn't mean any of the awful shit, I said. It's on me, Babe. It's _all _on me. I'm—"

"A _mess," _Tara finished for him. "You're a fuckin mess. You really need to clean yourself up, Jax. You gotta do it. I can't keep doing it for you. I can't fix this…Whatever it is that's…._God, Jackson. _You gotta get it together, Baby."

Tara grabbed his face—her grip a lot harder than it needed to be. Her nails dug into his skin as she kissed him.

Jax felt the goodbye in every languid movement of her lips.

"You need to figure out what you want," Tara whispered against his lips. She stabbed her finger into his chest. "What _you _want. When you're done figuring it out, come find me…._maybe _I'll still be here_." _

Jax watched her go—watched her disappear behind the closed door of her house, rooted to the spot, unaware of the ruffling curtains, the triumphant nineteen-year old that had been encroaching on their private moment the entire time.

When the feeling had finally returned in his legs, Jax walked away—he headed towards his bike on the other end of the street.

The gift box he'd left behind, tossed aside, in the middle of her front lawn couldn't have been further from his mind.

He sent up a prayer to the God he didn't quite believe in that Tara was right about this, too.

She was right.

Joshua Kohn wasn't crazy.

He was.

He was out of his fuckin mind.

This shit went beyond jealous rage.

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"Where are _you_ going?" Opie looked up from the cell phone in his hand, grinning at the raven-haired girl standing in front of his bike.

"Next year I'm buying you a necklace with bells on it for Christmas," Opie joked, shaking his head at her sudden appearance. "I'm _supposed _to be headed over to Tara's. She's not answering her damn phone. Probably too busy running the streets trying to be a fuckin vigilante or some shit. That girl attracts more trouble than _you."_

"I do _not _attract trouble," Donna replied, snatching the beanie off his head before he could stop her. "But now that I think about it….I'm staring trouble in the _face _right now, _Outlaw."_

Opie smirked. "You don't attract trouble," he amended, rolling his eyes at her as he snatched his hat back. "You _start _trouble."

"I thought Tara went on vacation with her aunt," Donna commented. "That's what Jax said when I asked him. He didn't tell me what day she was coming back but I figured she'd spend New Year's there, too since—"

"Jax didn't _know _when she was coming back," Opie said, smirking. "If I wasn't so sick of him moping around the clubhouse like a fuckin mummy I wouldn't have even told him she called me when she got off the plane. I don't know what he did, but I'm just waiting for her to tag me in."

Donna smiled, walking around the handle bars of his Harley, throwing her leg over to straddle his lap. "I think it's cute when you get all _big-brother _with Tara," she told him. "It's even sweeter because you don't even know if—"

"It doesn't matter," Opie interrupted, pressing a finger to her mouth—casting a glance towards the loud, music blaring clubhouse as he did so. "And I already asked you to drop it. Forget I said anything."

"_Opie," _Donna groaned. "I wished you'd trust _me _instead of Jax. Tara would want—Okay if _there is _something to know she'd want to know it? See how I _qualified _it for you? You might know her better because you grew up together but I _know _her, Opie. I'm the observant one, remember? I pick up on things. Tara would—"

"You mean the way you picked up on Chaz being into chicks?" Opie teased, chuckling when she mushed his forehead. "Leave it alone, Donna. I'll look out for regardless. So will Pop. And the asshole she actually _calls _Daddy is finally getting his shit together. I saw him unloading groceries when I went home earlier. Tara's letting him back in…giving him a second chance. That's her choice. Do I like it? No. But I can respect it…..especially since she _finally _stopped pestering me about dropping out of school."

"Fine." Donna sighed, giving him a soft peck on the lips. "You're the boss, Baby."

"That's right," Opie agreed, smirking. "Soon as I get back I'm gonna show you _why, _too."

Donna rolled her eyes. "Get back from _where? _I don't see you moving."

"I'm waiting for Miles," Opie explained. "Too much shit going on right now. JT says we're not allowed to ride alone."

"_JT _says, huh?" Donna smiled.

"The Reaper's back," Opie joked, repeated Niko's words—chuckling when Donna looked confused. "Nothing…it's just something they used to call him back—"

_"You plan on riding your Harley or your girlfriend?"_

Opie looked up, flashing his middle finger at the Prospect walking towards him. "Took you long enough, asshole," he said, scowling at Miles. He stole one final kiss before sliding back so Donna could climb off his bike.

"Sounds like you're in a rush to see _Tara_, Miles," Donna teased, sauntering past him. The extra-sway in her hips was all for Opie and he was the only one looking as Miles' eyes flitted towards the ground, cheeks reddening. "Don't forget to bob and weave when _Jax _finds out."

Opie laughed, shaking his head at the blushing biker climbing on the Harley parked beside him. "You better listen to what she said," he advised, revving his own bike up. "My best friend's an asshole….and he's got a_ mean _left-hook."

Miles knew all about Jackson "Shish-ka-_Balls" _Teller.

Only sixteen years old and his name nearly held the same respect and notoriety of the _Reaper _who raised him.

Eric Miles was nobody's punk—not by any means.

But still...

"You got my back though, right?" Eric asked.

Opie threw his head back, laughing. "Sure, Bro," he choked out, shaking his head. "I'll protect you."

"I'm serious, Bro," Miles urges, his bike easing out of the lot in stride with Opie's. "You know I'm no pussy but you can't fight _crazy,_ man. _Your _brother is fuckin crazy!"

"Y-uuuup!"

_You should ask Ima, Lauren and Maize about his crazy ass girlfriend._

As far as Opie was concerned both of their asses lived in the cuckoo's nest.

And it was the same nest Donatella Lewis hatched from.

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"Jax didn't mean it," Tara defended, dabbing at the gash above Joshua's eyebrow. "He just has these trig—_sorry! _I could finish a lot faster if you stopped moving though. Anyway….he's been going through a lot with his family. And no that's not an excuse._ Especially _with you. I mean, look at what you're family's going through with Lowell. And you're not running around attacking people. I just don't want you to—"

Joshua grabbed her arm, smiling when she stopped tending to his wounds to finally meet his eyes. "Relax, Tare," he said. "I'm not going to have him arrested."

"Thank you," Tara said, breathing a sigh of relief. "If you did he'd _deserve_ it but I'm glad—"

"Right now I'm more focused on what _you _deserve, Tare," Joshua interjected. He reached for her face, gently brushing his thumb across her cheek. "You deserve better than some guy who scares you."

Tara shook her head. "I'm not afraid of—"

"Maybe not," Joshua cut in again. "But you should be. He's dangerous, Tara. And I'm worried that one day his short fuse is going to blow back on you."

"I'll be fine, Josh," Tara assured, smiling down at him.

"You _are _fine...you're beautiful."

Tara giggled, eyes rolling up towards the ceiling. "You're all set, Champ."

Her eye's widened when he grabbed her by her arm, pulling her onto his lap when she turned to walk off. The first Aid kit in her hand, crashed to the floor.

It was déjà vu.

She jumped up, stepped back.

She was leaning against a sink, even if it was in her kitchen.

And the boy inching closer to her had made the first Aid kit she used to clean him up crash to the floor just like the night of Sarah's party.

He even had the same desire burning his eyes.

Only it wasn't the same at all.

This was different.

Tara didn't like different.

Different was making her nervous.

"_Joshu—"_

The remaining syllable in his name was muttered against his lips when he abruptly crushed them against hers. She tried to move back but the counter was already digging into her back. She pulled her mouth from his, but then his lips traveled down past her ear, to her neck. She tried gently pushing him away like she had with Pierce.

"Stop it, Josh," Tara gasped. "Stop…I don't want—are you list—_JOSHUA_!"

It didn't work so she pushed harder.

The lips latched onto her skin, the teeth grazing her neck clamped down harder, making her yelp in pain, digging her nails into the hands fondling her breasts.

"CUT IT THE FUCK OUT!" Tara screamed, kneeing him hard in the groin. Green eyes ballooning, anger and fear increased her heart rate as she yelled, "Don't you know what the word Stop means? It means STOP!"

"You sure, Tara?" Joshua sneered, reaching for again as she slid past him. "That's not what I _heard."_

The color drained from her face. Tara shook her head. "The fuck are you talking about?"

"Oh _God," _Joshua groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead. "I've upset you! I swear, Tare, that's the last thing I wanted to do. Come here, let me—"

"Stay away from me!" Tara screeched, skirted around the counter, dashing out into the living room.

"Tara, wait—"

Tara jerked away from the arm on her shoulder. Spinning around, she fell back into the couch, knocking the vase on the end table off—the potted plant her father had grown at the Sober living facility soiling the living room carpet, staining the back of her pajama shorts when she fell on top of it.

_BAM. BAM. BAM._

They both looked towards her front door.

"Tara!" Opie yelled. "Get your lazy ass up! Party at the clubhouse!"

Joshua ducked down, clamping his hand over her mouth. "Don't scream," he whispered as she did the opposite against his palm. Tara kicked out at him, her slipper falling off though none of the blows landing where it could hurt him. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just don't want him to think—"

Tara reached for her fallen slipper, white-knuckled her grip on it and swung with all she had at his eye.

As soon as the hand fell from her mouth she screamed. "_OPIEEEEEEE!_"

Joshua kicked her hard in her chest when she moved to try standing.

Her front door fell in, two young men in leather kuttes stomping in, their guns raised.

They weren't even pointed at his back.

Opie and Miles both did just as he'd anticipated.

The first person they saw was Tara.

Tara keeled over, clutching her chest—coughing and breathing heavily.

That's who they focused on.

He was already over the fence, climbing into the truck parked on the side of the highway behind her yard before they finally bothered chasing after him.

"Who was that?" Opie demanded, helping onto the couch.

Tara's hand rested over her rapidly beating heart, the other one pushing her hair out of her face. "Somebody who"—she sucked in labored sips of air—"Somebody who wants to_ fuck me in the ass."_

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"Get dressed," Opie demanded twenty minutes later. That was all the time he gave her—ten of which she spent explaining all that had happen to lead to Joshua Kohn being alone with her in her house. "You're coming with me."

Tara scoffed. "You really think I'm in the mood for a club rager right now?"

Opie's eyebrows rose. "You want to stay here and wait for him to come back?" he challenged. "I'm all for it, Knowles but you already begged me not handle like I _want _to. So here' the deal. You come with me to Reaper tonight. And I will _personally _escort you the Police station..._tomorrow_. You want to file charges instead of letting me put a bullet right between his—"

"Oh my GOD!" Tara gushed, shaking her head. "Do you _hear _yourself? What are you an executioner now? That's what the _Reaper _on your back stands for?"

Opie shrugged. "Better that asshole than you."

Tara scowled. "That's a cop out, Opie," she scolded. "That's someone's son you're talking about. He needs help. Obviously what happened to Lowell...I don't know...maybe he's having some kind of—"

Opie stood up. "Save it for your AP Psycology class, _Nerdvana_," he told her. "Right now you need to get dressed. I don't care how pissed you are at Jax. You don't have to talk to him. Chaz and Wendy will be there. They can keep you company—"

"What about _Donna?"_

Opie rolled his eyes. "You_ can't_ stay here, Tara. I swear you're like a fuckin magnet for every creep in Charming. You need a bodyguard to walk to the damn bathroom. _Hey, isn't that where you were going anyway?_ When that creep at the Hale's party cornered you?"

Tara growled.

Yes, she actually growled at him in frustration.

"I was coming _from _the bathroom," Tara corrected, crossing her arms. "_Asshole."_

"Uh, Tara?" Both of them looked over towards Miles, watching as he walked back inside of the house. "I don't know if American Psycho left this for you or not but it was on your front lawn."

Opie laughed. "Yeah he's a psycho, alright," he said, snickering. "That's from Jax. I saw Gemma showing him how to wrap it earlier."

Tara rubbed her shoulders, gnawing at her bottom lip. "I guess he must have dropped it when—"

"_Blah, blah, blah—_move your ass, Knowles!" Opie yelled, yanking her off the couch. "Piney's been cock-blocking me ALL fuckin week. He's _gone. _Rode of to Eureka to check some shit out. Took Happy and Kozik with him. I'm FREE! And I plan on ringing in the New year with my girlfriend's legs w—"

"_Ewwwww!"_ Tara scrunched her face up. "I'm getting dressed now. _Please, _don't finish that sentence!"

Miles laughed. "He's been driving us fuckin crazy all week," he told her. "When we rode out to Nevada he kept threatening to kill us every time we—"

"You can stop talking, too actually," Tara interrupted. She really didn't want to hear about all the _sweet butts _Opie had to pass up because he was the only biker willing to show the girl he loved some enough consideration to keep his dick in his pants.

Gross.

"Thank you," Tara said, gently taking the gift out of his hand, walking off.

She giggled when she heard Miles yell _"What the fuck,"_ in response to wherever Opie hit him.

She didn't see where but she knew why.

Miles was always watching her ass whenever she walked past him.

Jax pointed it out one day and she'd always made sure to give him a little extra wiggle just for kicks.

Mostly to make herself feel better about all those croweater skanks always batting their eyelashes at Jax right in front of her.

* * *

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Tara didn't _want _to open it.

What she'd wanted to do was toss it aside without giving his gift a second glance.

But curiosity consumed her.

She didn't want to spend the night wondering what Jax bought her—what he _thought _would win her over after what an asshole he'd been.

That was why she ended up changing directions—forgetting all about the closet full of clothes she didn't really feel like looking through in the first place.

Tara sat down at the foot of her bed, pulled the neatly tied ribbon apart and lifted the lid on the square, green box.

There was a paper—folded into a thick, tiny square.

Putting her gender to shame, Tara ignored the velour pouch with the mystery jewelry inside of it—unfolding the paper first, instead.

* * *

**_DON'T RIP THIS UP!_**

**_ DON'T CRUMBLE IT UP AND TOSS IT EITHER, BABE._**

**_PLEASE READ IT, TARA._**

**_IT TOOK ME ALL FUCKIN DAY TO WRITE IT._**

**Merry Christmas, _or better yet merry_ belated_ Christmas, Tara. Do people actually say that? Probably not. There's probably no such thing as a belated Merry Christmas. _**

**_But it's all I got, Tara. I don't what else to say except that I spent Christmas wishing I never let you walk out the door. _**

**_I tried to take it back. _**

**_But when my legs started working, when my stupid fuckin pride finally stopped weighing me down, I ran downstairs, I ran outside but you were already gone. I rode over to your house. Spent the whole ride trying to think of what I could say to stop you from slamming the door in my face. Or what to say to get you to open up._**

**_I guess you've been wondering the same thing about me. _**

**_You've been trying to get me open up to you. And I try. I try so fuckin hard but every time I try to say what's on my mind it comes out wrong. It comes out SO FUCKIN wrong. _**

**_I blamed you._**

**_ I accused you of using sex against me when the truth is you're just doing what..._**

**_You know like that chapter in your psychology textbook. You remember, right? The one I quizzed you on? Nine out of ten right. You said the only reason you got the last question wrong is because I distracted you. And I told you you'd been distracting me ever since you down next to me. You shoved me off the bed when you realized I'd been reading the questions to nipple peaking out of your shirt the entire time._**

**_That same shirt was on the floor ten seconds later. _**

**_It's learned behavior, Babe just like the fifty-pound textbook says. And I can't fault you for trying to get through to me the only way you know how. _**

**_Three years ago you shut me down for doing it. And again in the lounge the night of JT's accident. I don't know what changed from then to now but you've_**

**YOU.**

**_YOU'VE changed, Tara. You changed for me. I accused you of trying to change me when I'm the one changing you. And I know you think that I don't, but I do. I love you so much it physically fuckin hurts to even THINK about you moving on._**

**_Realizing that what everyone around you keeps telling you is the truth._**

**_That you're better off without me in your life._**

**_And right now I know your hearts telling you to believe it, too. All the awful shit I said, all the things I've done, all of it proves them right._**

**_I LOVE YOU._**

**_I LOVE YOU SO FUCKIN MUCH, TARA._**

**_You can believe I'm not good enough all you fuckin want because it's the truth but I LOVE you and I need you to believe that shit, too. I don't want you to move on. I don't want you to give up on me. _**

**_On us._**

**_I want there to always BE an us even when we fight. Even when one of us fucks up. _**

**_I don't want what you said to me at Fun Town to be a lie._**

**_I need you, Babe. I need you to love me even when you hate me. That's all I'll ever want for every Christmas or birthday. The only thing I want from you _IS _you, Tara. _**

**_I'm SORRY._**

**_I'll apologize every day, wear I'M SORRY, TARA on a fuckin T-shirt if you want. Or maybe I can get you one of those shirts with the arrow pointed to your side that says I'M WITH STUPID. I really wish I was in your room with you right now instead of standing outside of the door you probably slammed in my face as soon as I showed up. But even thought I'm probably not, I know you're flashing that pretty smile of yours._**

**_I'm sorry, Babe._**

**_SO fuckin sorry, but I need you to read the next thing I write very carefully:_**

**THE GIFT IN THIS BOX _ISN'T _PART OF THE APOLOGY!**

**_It's what I already bought you for Christmas. _**

**_It was the present all of my flirting (or as you say WHORING) got you for Christmas. I thought you would feel like a brat before._**

**_I'm really hoping this letter makes it worse._**

**_I bought you a charm bracelet, Babe. I picked all the charms out myself. At the park you told me you wanted to start a photo album. I want you think of every charm as a photo. They're the memories I don't want you to forget._**

**_I found the slipper first._**

**_A Ruby slipper. Painted, rose-gold. The jeweler looked like he was trying not to laugh when I picked out. _**

**_I shrugged it off._**

**_ Fuck that Sammity Sam looking motherfucker. _**

**_He couldn't see the significance because he doesn't know US. I got the slipper to remind you of the first time you trusted, I mean REALLY trusted me. It was the night we watched the Wizard of Oz together._**

**_The night we tried to watch it._**

**_We never did finish but we didn't have to. Thanks to Tommy we both know the movie by heart from start to finish. _**

**_Especially the ending. That's when Dorothy finally realizes there's no place like home. _**

**You're home, Tara. **

**_If home is where the heart is you're my home, Baby. And I don't think I have to tell you what my favorite room in the house is. (If you need a hint I'm licking my lips right now)._**

**_The party hat represents my birthday._**

**_ I know, I know. I'm a spoiled fuckin brat. OF COURSE I don't want you to forget about the best birthday I've ever had. It might sound like it's all about me, but it's really all about you, Babe. You're so fuckin amazing, Tara. So selfless and giving and considerate. It doesn't matter that JT paid for it. I know the design for my bike was all you just like everything else I enjoyed on my birthday. But just between me and you? The cake you got me was the best part. I don't think I'll ever get used to eating it off a plate again ;-) _**

**_Do you know what a caduceus is? Who am I fuckin kidding. Of course YOU do, Know-it-all-Knowles. You probably know all about the Greek God Hermes and how his staff was mistakenly made the symbol of medicine._**

**_ I didn't know._**

**_Sammity Sam was happy to school me on the history of the winged staff with two snakes. I can't really call that charm a memory though._**

**_Not yet._**

**_ But real soon._**

**_ That's why I figured I'd buy the charm now. I even thought about holding onto it until you got your Doctorate. That would have been fuckin awesome. Seeing the wide-eyed look on your face when I gave you a symbol that represented the career you've always dreamed about on the day you finally made it happen. But I didn't want to risk losing it. _**

**_You see how bad I am at holding onto to the things that mean the most._**

**_So I'm giving it to you early. _**

**_I Hope you don't think it's a jinx, because it's not. It's just a fourteen-carat peek into your future. The future I hope to FUCKIN GOD I'll be a part of._**

**_I have to be, Tara._**

**_I need to be because of the last charm I picked out for you._**

**_A heart._**

**_The letter J engraved on it. _**

**_No, Tara I'm not marking my territory. I KNOW you're not a fire hydrant so stop fucking glaring. _**

**_I got it because I want you to remember, I need you to know that you have my heart, Babe. You own it. And half the time it really scares the shit out of me because I don't remember ever giving it to you. There's only room for one girl in it and that's you, Tara. _**

**_Only you._**

_**That's why I know I'll be really fuckin screwed if you outgrow me.**_

_**I—**_

* * *

For the first time, Tara frowned at the paper in her hand. Underneath the words _if you _she could see where he'd erased the word _WHEN._

_When _she outgrew him.

The final words of his letter didn't quite register as her mind focused on the truth hidden behind the "_if"._

How many times? How many ways could try to beat this ridiculous notion that he wasn't good enough out of his head?

* * *

**_I fucked up, Tara. I was the world shittiest boyfriend on Christmas Eve._**

**_On Christmas day._**

**_But I'm hoping you can focus on every day before then. Every day we've spent together since that first day in Detention. Tally up all the good and the bad. I'd say I've been pretty nice this year._**

**_And I really hope you agree, Baby._**

**_Because I want to do some really naughty things to you. _**

**I love you, Tara Lady Tee Grace Knowles. _And I, Jackson Nathaniel Teller vow to never fuckin ever stop. (I want to send a copy of this to that scheming _bitch _Sarah by the way. Maybe you can ask the douche bag for the address to her coven.)_**

**_I'm fuckin miserable without you, Babe._**

**_Come kiss it better._**

**_Come ON, Tara….you know you want to….Right? (I promise not to STOP.)_**

_** \- JAX**_

* * *

"You got two more minutes!" Opie yelled from the living room. "Then I'm dragging your ass out of here in whatever you got on! _Donna's waiting!_"

Tara giggled, shaking her head as she walked over to her closet to pick out an outfit.

It was like the boy never had sex in his life.

Looking down at the bracelet she'd clasped around her wrist, Tara smiled at the dangling "J" heart.

Maybe she could try one more time.

One more.

* * *

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(And check out Facebook {slash} **VeritableOldLadyCrow **for insight or just for the Hell of it!)


	79. Chapter 71: Part I

Do **NOT **skim over ANYTHING...'cause shit's about to get _REAL._

Chapter 71**: Part I**

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

_I think that it's time to get out  
_

_My patients are fading fast_

_the mind bruises just a little bit easier_

_in dark times and shadow's cast_

_What are you suffering _for?

_Your_ pride_ or some kind of _personal war?

_And will you throw it away?_

_For nothing more than a simple _taste?

* * *

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_"Where….the fuck…is it?" _Gemma mumbled to herself. She'd searched the garage and the basement from top to bottom for well over an hour and so far she'd come up empty handed. She'd been right there, the entire time. She'd watched the Prospects unload box after box until the truck was empty.

Where the Hell was it?

When her husband had asked why she'd been ransacking 'his' house the contempt in his eyes had given her pause. But the fear threatening to seep into her bones was gone as quickly as it'd manifested.

JT didn't have the slightest clue what she'd been looking for—that she was sure of. Because if John Teller, the man she'd already betrayed twice had discovered the contents of the missing box it would have brought up questions, questions that were sure to come from him _and _Piney who would have been…

Piney.

He hadn't lifted a finger to help unload the contents of her short stay in Bakersfield. He'd merely sat there just as she had, berating and scowling at his son. Piney couldn't have had the box.

Could he?

_"Maybe I put it back in storage," _Gemma mused to herself. She had been out of it for most of the time. Back in Bakersfield she'd barely forced herself to stay sober long enough to appear half-decent when Tara strong-armed her son into visiting his poor, lonely mother.

Rising to stand, Gemma picked the empty mug up from the dining room table where she'd been sitting—lost in her thoughts for the past fifteen minutes waiting for JT to come pick her up.

Club Reaper's New Year's Eve party was in full swing by now.

It was supposed to be her official "I'm back motherfuckers!" debut and in her steel-toe leather booties, skin-tight black jeans and shredded Reaper Halter top that exposed the crow tattooed on her chest, Gemma Teller was definitely dressed for the occasion. So, what the Hell was holding her excitement at bay?

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Gemma sat the tea kettle in her hand down on the stove, pulling the Beretta she kept in the kitchen drawer out on her way to her front door. She peeked through the peep-hole, raising the gun eye-level as she quickly yanked the door open.

"_Aye, now,_" the man said, raising his hands high on either side of his head, "Ain't no need to bust a cap in my ass. I come in peace, Mama."

Gemma's hand—and the gun in it didn't lower an inch. "Who the fuck are you?"

"If I tell you, do you think you can be a little less happy to see me?"

Gemma shook her head. "I doubt it. Too many Mexi-assholes showing up on my doorstep and so far _ain't _none of them come in _peace._ That's why the _piece _is in my hand, _Juan Pablo._"

"My name's Nero," he told her. "_Nero Padilla. _I'm a friend of your Old man's. We're a….we're _business associates. _And just a little FYI? I'm actually Dominican and Puerto Rican."

Nero, Nero, Nero.

It did sound kind of familiar.

Gemma shrugged, finally lowering her weapon even if her finger was still on the trigger. "Mexican…Dominican…Puerto Rican," she mused, shrugging her shoulders. "It's all the same to me. You're still a _wetback_."

Nero cocked an eyebrow at her. "Don't you think that's a little like me saying Saltines and Cheez-it's are the same thing?"

Gemma crossed her arms, a wry smile twitching the corners of her mouth. "Did you just call me a _cracker?"_

Nero glanced at the gun still in her hand when he replied, "_Your _words, Mama. Not mine."

Gemma smirked. "JT know you stopping by?"

Nero nodded, scratching a finger against his temple. "Yeah," he answered, nodding his head back at the Chevy Impala parked in front of her yard. "He actually sent me to get you. He's gonna be a little to the festivities this evening."

_WHAT?_

"So, what?" Gemma narrowed her eyes. "He hired a Mexican banger to be my bodyguard for the night?"

_Where the Hell is he?_

"It sounded more like a babysitter to me," Nero half-teased. "What do you say we head out? Make my life easy. You can curse him out later….or _shoot_ him. Besides, I could use a little direction. For such a small town you can turned around real easy out here."

Gemma stepped back far enough to grab her car keys from the ceramic bowl on the end table by the door. "_He _was supposed to be here, not you," the irritated Matriarch said, twirling the keys in her hand as she pulled her front door shut behind her. "And I wasn't waiting around for _him _because I need a bodyguard or a babysitter. You should ask my Old man what happened the _last_ time somebody showed up at my house unannounced." Gemma leaned real close to him, steeling him with her haughty olive gaze when she said, "_I don't need a boy to handle my shit." _Then she walked past him. "Just follow behind me….so you don't get lost."

"Yeah," Nero mused, nodding to himself, watching her ass as she walked to her car. "_I can definitely do that_."

* * *

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_You love me,_

_you hate me,_

_I tried to take the loss,_

_You're crying me a river but I've got to get across_

_Loving you has to got to be,_

_Like the devil in the deep blue sea,_

_Forget about your foolish pride,_

_Oh, Honey take me to the other side_

The music blaring from the clubhouse filtered out into the parking lot, drowning out the rumble of the bike zooming in through the _Teller-Morrow _entrance gate. Corner to corner, the lot was packed with Harley's and even a few cars.

Jax parked his bike, stopping to stub out the cigarette he'd been smoking on the drive over before finally walking inside. Tonight's debauchery was no different than any other party at Club Reaper. Heavy smoke filled the air, shot glasses and liquor bottles clinked. Women half-dressed in outfits barely loose enough to breathe in danced around poles, on top of tables, grinded in the laps of the men they'd be entertaining for the night. The head crow-eater of the night manned the bar, pulling beers and wiping up the drunken, clumsy spills with a smile and a Coke that had a taste of something a Hell of a lot stronger mixed with it. Teenagers crashing the party were a regular occurrence as well. SAMCRO was a family MC after all. And it was a small town. Everybody knew each other—everyone knew whose door to knock on if there was a problem.

But SAMCRO never had problems—not when there was a party.

Club rager's were about relaxing, having a good time.

Yet the sixteen-year old boy who used to live for Reaper ragers wasn't feeling it.

Not at all.

"_Jackkkkkson!" _Jax looked up from the Whiskey bottle he'd just swiped from the top shelf of the bar, blinking his eyes hard against the light flashing in his face—scowling at the raven-haired girl brandishing a Kodak disposable camera in his face. "That's _before," _Donna said, nudging the perky blonde standing next to her. "We'll have to wait until she shows up for the _after."_

"After what?" Jax asked, not really caring as he screwed the cap off the bottle, taking a healthy swig of it.

"After Tara gets here," Donna replied, rolling her eyes as if the answer was obvious. "We both know how _miserable _you are without her..."

_Tara ain't coming anywhere I might be._

Chastity snickered, aiming the Camcorder in her hand at Jax's grimacing expression. "What's your New Year's resolution, Jackson?" she teased. "To take a _writing_ class, maybe? To buy a computer so you can just hit the backspace button instead of killing a million trees trying to write a love letter to your girlfriend?"

_"Jam it,_" Jax hissed, walking from behind the bar, headed towards the back hallway.

"Hey, wait up!" Chastity ran behind him, past him, stood in front of him to block his exit. "I'm sorry," she said, smiling impishly at him. "I'm just jealous, I guess. Opie told Donna about all the umm….the papers he found—well, your _mother _found. I think it's really sweet you putting the effort to patch things up with Tara. I'm just a bitter bitch because I want to steal her from you," she joked, casting him a wink.

Jax managed a hint of a smile, even if it was ironic. "Might not have to steal her."

Chastity rolled her eyes, moving to stand beside him, turning the camcorder towards their faces as she leaned in close against his. "I'm here with the infamous Jackson Teller….Charming High School's Resident bad boy," she spoke in her best 'News Reporter' voice_. "What is _your_ New Year's resolution?"_ When he didn't answer, she turned to raise an eyebrow at him. "Come on, Dude!" Chastity complained. "I'm making a video time capsule for Yearbook club. You, Tara and Opie are like the only Sophomores I haven't gotten to."

Jax rolled his eyes. "My New Year's resolution," he grumbled, snatching the _Happy New Year _tiara from the bed of long, thick curls on top of her head, "is to stay the Hell away from_ blondes._ You're all annoying."

Chastity snickered, snatching her tiara back. "Look in the mirror, Dude," she suggested, nodding up at his own slicked-back blonde hair.

Jax shook his head, waving her off.

He was headed for the dorm room he'd once considered good as his when Christina, one of the club's recent additions to the "Old Lady" waiting list stopped in front of him, blocking his path as she leaned against the wall.

_"Hey, Jackson,"_ Christina said, bottom lip catching between her teeth. Jax stood there, giving her wide, brown eyes a thorough head-to-toe view of the front of him before smirking as he moved to give her a glimpse at what the back looked like. She moved off the wall, reaching to rub her hand against his chest. "I guess you're not really feeling the party this year either, huh?" She glanced back towards the closed dorm room behind her. "You look like you could use some company…"

Jax smiled, gently moving her hand away from his chest. "Not tonight, Darlin."

"Some other time then?" Christine asked, watching as he walked past her.

Prince Teller chuckled in response, shaking his head as he closed the door shut behind him. He couldn't help the wry smile spread across his face as he imagined the glare Tara would be shooting in his direction if she'd heard his response. Not _tonight _would have surely earned him a shitload of anger that he was always happy to tailor in his favor.

Tara never really seemed to catch on.

Flirting with other females _in front of her _was for his benefit not whatever nameless, faceless chick that happened to be on the receiving end. Twisted as it was, he loved making her angry—he loved igniting the fire just so he could put it out, and he was always sure to do it in every position before the embers cooled. Her attitude excited him, it enticed him—made him feel like a fuckin King knowing how fast she hit the roof just at the mere _thought _of him being interested in someone else. He fuckin loved it and it wasn't just because it let him know that the feeling was mutual. He loved it because he loved every fuckin thing about her.

But that part of it _wasn't_ mutual.

There were parts of him, ways he'd been set into long before they'd finally admitted what it seemed everyone else around them already knew. Relationships were supposed to be about give and take and Tara did both. She'd given everything, all of her—no holds barred.

But she'd taken just as much.

Jackson Teller felt stripped down—like a shell of the person he was back when he had a clear insight on his identity just like she did.

_"You need to figure out what you want." _

She'd whispered the words against his lips, telling him what he needed while giving him what he wanted.

_"What you want. When you're done figuring it out, come find me….maybe I'll still be here."_

Jax wanted her to be there—that was what he _wanted._

But he needed to want to be _there _to.

All of him—even the _Hyde-_Jax.

Kicking his sneakers off, the stunted teenager crawled up towards the headboard of the bed at the dorm room's center—sitting back against it, swigging from the bottle in his hand as he racked his brain for an answer to Tara Knowles' latest assignment.

_Tara._

His girl loved to give him assignments—to make him double-check his work and quiz him to make sure he'd been paying attention...

* * *

_"And…..what is the capital of _Virginia_?" Tara asked him. _

_Jax smirked, blue-eyes locked on the lacy, red boy shorts peeking out underneath the ratty, oversized T-shirt she was wearing. "_G-Spot."

_Tara squinted her eyes at him. "_What?"

_"The capital of your vagina is—" Jax lost the battle to finish his sentence, laughing with her, shrugging when Tara shook her head at him._

_"I knew this was a bad idea," Tara mused, smiling at the half-naked boy standing at the foot of her bed._

_"It's _Richmond," _Jax told her, unbuckling his belt, sliding his jeans down his legs. He looked up, blue-eyes flitting towards her bedroom ceiling, sighing when he heard her cluck her tongue at him, wagging her finger when he curled his fingers at the waistband of his boxers. "Come on, Babe," Jax groaned. "I got all of them right so far. I'm ready," he said, grabbing her ankles, sliding her legs apart as he crawled up the bed towards her. Sitting beside her, he pulled her onto his lap, palming her ass he pressed her down against the throbbing erection between his legs. "I'm _ready, _Baby."_

_"I know you're ready for _that," _Tara breathed, tilting her head to give his lips better access to her neck as he sucked on the pulse at her throat. "You're….always…ready…for _that."

_Jax pulled back, brushing her hair out of her face, bore into the smoldering green eyes staring back at him. "_Eighty_ minimum," he guaranteed, assuring her of his readiness for his history exam. "I won't even have to _look down anyone's shirt."

_Tara leaned back, grabbing the textbook and paper she'd been reading practice questions from. "One more," she promised. "Then I'll check your score….and then _you'll _score." Jax sighed, releasing his grip on the clasps of her bra. "The best source of information for identifying the location of the major mountain ranges in the United States is….(A) an Encyclopedia….(B) an Almanac…(C) an Atlas….or (D) a dictionary?"_

_"Mountains, huh?" Jax looked down at the twin peaks poking out of her shirt, laughing when he looked up to see her expression. _

_"Don't _even," _Tara scolded, fighting her smile as she shook her head at him._

_"It's too easy anyway," Jax retorted. Raking a hand through his hair, he tried to put the remaining blood in his _top _head to use, guesstimating the correct answer so he wouldn't have to listen to encyclopedia Knowles explain the correct answer when he gave the wrong one. "Umm….._Atlas?"

_Tara cocked an eyebrow at him. "You asking me or telling me?"_

_Jax rolled his eyes, fighting his own smile once he realized she was doing the same. Tara really did have the world's shittiest poker face—especially when she was fighting to hide her "proud teacher" smile from him._

_"I'm _telling _you."_

_Tara's smile broke free, she looked down, scrawling a long, red check mark against the paper in her hand. "Twenty-four out of thirty…._eighty-percent…just like you said..._hmm….I guess I can live with that."_

_Jax shrugged, closing the paper in the textbook, tossing it to the floor before tugging her shirt off. His perusal was liquid heat, blue eyes trailing up and down—darting back and forth, his hands following the trail, massaging her breasts in his palms, dipping in the back of her panties to squeeze her bare ass, rubbing her against him. "I'm glad you're happy with the eighty." When he slid his back down the headboard, she went with him. He flipped her on her back, swiftly pulling her panties down her legs. "Because I've got a test for you too, Baby. And there's only one score I'm interested in."_

_"Oh yeah?" Tara smirked, knowing exactly where he was going as she watched him kicking his boxers from around his ankles. "What score is that?"_

_Jax grabbed Tara by her waist, pulling her on top of him as he laid down on the bed, holding her thighs firmly when she placed her knees on either side of his head just like he wanted. "_Sixty-nine," _he drawled, gripping her hips, pulling her down to meet his eager mouth. "I'm the _under-_achiever," Jax teased, flicking his tongue against her clit, smiling around the throbbing bud when he slurped it into his mouth, when Tara cried out, white knuckling the headboard as she rode his tongue. Jax tilted his head back, pushed up against her hips until she looked down to meet the taunting 'stern teacher' expression he cast her. "Test already started, Babe," Jax crooned, grabbing her hand, placing it on the painfully hard erection behind her. Reaching up, he tugged her bra apart, tossing it to the floor. "_Get to work, Ms. Knowles._" Tara smiled, flipping onto her stomach, nipples brushing against his navel as she rocked back and forth into his mouth, swirling her tongue around the tip of him, teasing the slit, sucking hard on the crown. "_Fuck," _Jax hissed, his groans of pleasure vibrating against her warm, wet folds. "Fuckkk, Baby," he moaned, reaching up to gently push against her neck until she sucked him faster, harder, cheeks hallowing as she took him deeper, deep as she could until he felt her throat. "That's my know-it-all….._perfect score_….every fuckin time…"_

_Tossing her hair back over her shoulder, Tara pulled him from her mouth with a wet pop, looking down at him over her shoulder. "And right now you're _cheating _me," she quipped, raising her eyebrows at him. Jax chuckled, smacking her ass, palming both cheeks, spreading her legs thighs wider. Tara turned back around, her mouth went right back to work, moaning around his cock when he slipped two fingers inside of her, fucking her slow then fast, then slow again as they both sucked on each other until time was up._

_And it was time for part two, no scantron required…._

* * *

Five light taps against the door.

Jax didn't hear a single one.

His eyes were closed, one hand still gripping the liquor bottle while his other gripped his throbbing dick, rubbing it through his jeans, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he'd reluctantly gave in to doing something he hadn't needed to in long time.

Picture her.

_"Hey, Jax." _

Jax's eyes flew open, wide in alarm, quickly moving the hand on his crotch to the bed. Shock morphed into a scowl, a deep blush from both anger and embarrassment flooding his cheeks. _"Get out."_

"I don't get it, _Jackson_," Maize O'Keefe muttered, walking towards him still. She sat on the bed beside him, one thigh tucked underneath her. "I have never," she told him frowning, "_Never _done anything to you…nothing that you didn't _want _me to anyway. I never disrespected you. And whenever we would hook up, we always had fun. That shit with David…_you _know I was never into him. I was just trying to piss you off and yeah, so I guess that _was _me doing something to you but you drew blood first. I never had any expectations of you but you _never _treated me like shit until—"

_"Don't."_

Jax shook his head, eyes flitting towards the ceiling, tilted his head back to take another swig from the bottle. He'd surely lose his shit if he had to hear _another _person tell him how much he changed since Tara.

"_Tara's cheating on you, you know." _Jax looked towards her, eyebrows rising in response to her comment. "She wasn't trying to hide it either. But then I guess that's why you're here alone. You probably dumped her after you found out about Stef's Christmas party."

Jax sat up straight, leaning forward, towards her. "Found out about _what?" _

Maize's attempt at an expression of sympathy didn't quite hit the mark. "Tara and Pierce," she told him. "They were _all over each other." _Jax clenched his jaw hard, but the corners were jumping. Maize scooted closer to him, her fingers gently brushing against his thigh. "I know you'll probably think I'm just telling you this to get back at her…and I guess that's kinda true but I'm also telling you because despite all the shit that's happened between us…_I still care about you, Jax."_

Jax nodded stiffly, ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Thanks for the heads up," he said, leaning back against the headboard. "I appreciate it, Darlin." Maize smiled widely then. Knees dipping into the bed, she crawled towards him, moving to throw her leg over his, to straddle his waist. Jax's arm shot up, his palm pressing against her stomach. "_What are you doing?"_

"You know what they say," Maize answered, biting her lip as she eyed his crotch. "The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else...Come on, Jax. I know you didn't forget how good I am. I'm gonna make you forget all about that stuck up—"

Jax lightly brushed thumb against her mouth, fingers caressing her cheek, the passion swirling in the blues of his eyes, the panty-dropping, heartbeat-accelerating smile he flashed her cutting her sentence short. When he brushed her hair back behind her ears the way she'd seen him do to Tara countless times before, Maize's breath hitched, breasts threatening to spill out of her low cut top as her chest rose and fell faster.

Jax leaned in towards her, the whiskey on his breath tickling her senses as her eyes fluttered closed. "_You remember when you pulled me out of gym to sneak into the coach's office?" _Maize's eyes opened, freshly waxed brows dipping towards the center of her forehead. Jax's smile brightened just a little more, just a hint of bite gleaming in the pearly-whites of his teeth. "You remember right, Darlin? You were sucking my dick and I moaned Tara's name while I was cumming in your mouth." Maize flinched back, but his hand slid down to her waist, gripping her hip, keeping her close. "_I_ remember," Jax mused, smirking at the memory. He waved his hands around then, spreading his arms wide in gesture. "My _whole _family thinks I'm pussy-whipped—shit, even the prospects. But they have no fuckin _idea _what it was like before I got with her. That's thanks to _you, _Darlin," he told her, closing one eye like a sniper as he pointed a finger at her. "You and what _little _pride you have. None of you bitches ever want to admit to anyone that some other girl was on my mind when I was inside you. I'm just a _man-whore_…I like variety..." Jax shrugged his shoulders. "I'll own it," he told her. "I _am _a whore but that ain't got shit to do with how you let me treat you. You expect me to _respect_ you? What the fuck for? You'll spread your legs for me regardless. You think that's on _me?_" Jax shook his head. "Nope. That's on _you._" Maize looked down at the bed, hiding the glassiness in her eyes, but he'd already seen it.

And he didn't give a shit.

"Cheer up, Darlin." Jax pressed two fingers to her chin, lifting her face up until she met his eyes again. "It's not like you're the only one. It's all the other chicks, too. But that was back when all I had was my imagination," he said, tapping a finger to his temple. He leaned forward, lips brushing against her ear, breath tickling the fine ears of the freckled lobe. "_I know what the real thing feels like now," _Jax whispered huskily in her ear, the smooth tone of his voice conflicting with the brashness of his words. "I know what _she _feels like now…..So there's no amount of _imagining _that is gonna make that high traffic zone you call a pus—"

Maize jumped away from him, rage contorting her features as she drew her her hand back—all but foaming at the mouth when he caught her by her wrist before her palm could reach its baby-faced destination. "_Really, Maize?" _Jax widened his eyes in feigned surprise at his own words. "Wow, I'm surprised I remember your name. But I guess that's because you've been the most_ persistent,_" he mused aloud, smirking. "You _and _Ima…..Maize and Ima…..Ima and Maize….Ima…Maize," he muttered, just a hint of a slur in his words. Then he started laughing. "IMA-MAIZE! Holy shit! Ima-Maized…._I'm amazed _by how stupid you two bitches are. Tweedle-D and tweedle-cum. Which one are you? Or does it even matter? The D is for _dick _by the way since you can't seem to get enough of it," he taunted, tilting his head back to take another swig of Jameson Irish.

Maize knocked the bottle hard, into his face, glaring at him as she stood up from the bed but with a smile of satisfaction as she watched him choke on the liquid that went down the wrong pipe, as she watched the liquor soak into his T-shirt, drip from his nose. "You"—Jax choked out, sneering at her through watery eyes, as he rubbed against his throat—"are a stupid whore. Not _just _a whore. A _really fuckin _stupid whore!"

"I _HATE _you," Maize growled, fist clenched at her sides.

Jax pulled the soaking wet T-shirt over his head, smiling at her when her eyes flew to his abs as he dabbed at the moisture glistening on his chest before tossing the shirt to the floor. "Do you hate me more than you love feeding me bullshit about Tara?" When she glared in silence, turning hard on her heel instead of responding, he yelled after her. "_Good!" _Jax said as she reached the door, yanking it open and storming out.

As soon as she cleared the doorway, there was Ima—leaning against the threshold. "So I guess it wasn't her night, huh?"

Jax rolled his eyes. "Do yourself a favor," he told her. "Make it your New Year's resolution to get a fuckin clue."

Ima's eyebrows threaded together. "Huh?"

"FUCK OFF!" Jax yelled.

He wanted the real thing, goddamn it.

Ima stepped back, tripping over her heels, falling sideways—the _natural_ blonde suddenly appearing beside her being the only reason she didn't fall flat on her ass. Ima didn't acknowledge her with so much as nod of thanks, let alone a verbal one as she followed Maize's lead, storming off.

"_Well damn, Teller," _Wendy said, bracing her hands in the doorway as she glanced toward the corner of the hallway the two angry girls had disappeared around. Looking back at him, she twisted her mouth to one side. "_You kiss your mother with that mouth?"_

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"You planning on telling us what we're doing here?" Kozik asked. Piney's answer was silence as him and Happy followed closely behind him, hands alternating between resting at their sides and brushing against the concealed weapon underneath their kuttes.

Coming to a stop at the door, Piney rang the doorbell, absently brushing his hair back, adjusting his Kutte, and the shirt underneath it. Behind him, his club brothers looked back and forth between each other and the man in front of them who suddenly gave a shit what he looked like.

The door swung open, light seeping out onto the porch.

A tall, dark-skinned man stepped forward, counting out the cash in his hand. "The total's twenty-six something right?" The silence made him look up, and the tall biker with wide blue eyes staring at him had the man stepping backwards, glancing at the two equally unexpected men standing behind him. "Umm…can I help you?" He mumbled, craning his neck to look at something inside, beyond the line of vision of the men on the porch.

Piney's jaw twisted side to side, clenching and unclenching. But there was the slightest hint of a smile—one of reluctant amusement that anyone who knew him would have picked up on. "I guess you can," Piney replied. "Although probably not as much as you've been _helping _her. I'm here to see Mary….my _wife. _Go get her."

Kozik winced. "Damn," he whispered to Happy. "Mary switched up on him….you know what they say. _Once you go black you don't go back."_

"That shit ain't true." Happy shook his head fast, grabbing his crotch. "I've had plenty before _and _after, Bro."

"That's cuz you got plenty of color in you, _Guido," _Kozik teased.

"It ain't the color your eye's about to be," Happy growled.

The man in the doorway still hadn't moved, or said a word.

He just stood there blinking until finally—"

_"Sugar, what's taking you so long?" _

Happy's eyes stretched the widest.

They were the first to look away at the sight of her, too.

Well _him._

Or her.

"_Well, well, well,_" the pretty wom-_man _crooned, peeking out at the three men gaping at her on the porch. "What do we have _here _on this lovely evening? You handsome fellas looking to have a little New Year's Eve party? I'm all about fireworks, Baby but you got to make an appointment to party with _me._"

"Ummm…" the man scratched his neck nervously. "You go by the name Mary now?"

Piney frowned, looking over at the woman tugging her robe closed over the part of her that definitely contrasted with the large breasts and curly, auburn wig on her head. "I'm looking for my wife," he said, pulling a piece of paper from inside his Kutte. "And I know I got the address right so…."

"This here, Honey is Venus Vandam's space," Venus told him. "And as much I'd be obliged to reunite you with your wife I'm afraid I don't know of any Mary's."

Piney's frowned deepened. "How long you been here?"

Venus' brown eyes traveled from the ruggedly handsome faces down to the KA-BAR's hanging from their waists before responding. "I take it you fellas aren't law enforcement." When Happy scowled in disgust, Kozik rolled his eyes and Piney shook his head, Venus nodded once, running the long, fire-cracker red nails on her fingers through her hair. "I've been…umm…I want to say _time-sharing _this spot for a few years now off and on."

Piney cocked an eyebrow. "Who's the owner?"

"Don't know, Baby," Venus said, pursing her lips. "This space has been empty for years."

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

Agent Gordon Brigg's foot tapped impatiently underneath the desk, muddy-brown eyes wide in shock as they flitted back and forth across the computer screen. The very second the printer shot out the final paper, he snatched the pile of them up, bunching them in his hands as he made a beeline for Chief Wayne Unser's private office. Wrapping fierce knuckles against it, he shoved the papers in his face the second Robert opened the door, barely giving him the few seconds it took the shrug his jacket on, giving him little space to squeeze past him as he read the first page.

"Did you know about this shit?" Gordon gushed, studying his expression as he read the credit card history of Joshua F. Kohn. Kohn senior looked up, surprise and disappointment clear in his expression. Gordon shook his head. "This is bigger than some outlaw MC coming after your kid, Robbie. Right now your son's got an arsenal large enough to take out the whole Charming police department. _How the Hell did we miss this shit? _Look man, I know you want to do right by your family. I get it but it's been a week and we've yet to turn up any other suspects."

"There's no murder weapon either," Robert argued.

"But we have his finger—"

"His fingerprints are all over the goddamn house," Robert snapped. "He's lived there since he was three years old. Of course his prints are on every surface."

"What about the shrine of Tara Knowles?" Gordon urged.

"I checked her out," Robert told him. "She lives next door to Piney Winston. He's practically a surrogate father. And Johnathan Teller…His son is her boyfriend. The brutality of Lowell's attack? That shit was personal…it was a crime of passion. What motive would he have to kill _him? _Why not the boyfriend? It doesn't _make sense."_

Gordon raised his hands, slapping them down at his sides. "Then we find him," he offered. "We bring him in and clear him. Where is he, Rob? Are you hiding him?"

"Careful, Gordie," Robert warned, glaring.

"Your _missing _son," Gordon pressed, "Is the _only _lead we have. We gotta run with it. We can't pen any of this shit on SAMCRO without evidence and even if the trail did lead to them that still doesn't change the fact that we've got an innocent sixteen-year old girl and a mentally sick—"

Robert jabbed his fingers into Gordon's chest. "You watch your fuckin mouth," the senior agent growled. "No one's referring to _my _son as—"

"_Would you prefer _psycho?" Robert spun around to face the shaky voice behind him. Retired Detective Kevin Sabian's body was trembling, clenched fists quaking with anger. "I got tired of waiting around for news on the case," the livid man barked. "Your son killed my partner," he accused simply. "And if you think I'm gonna sit back and let you cover his ass and your own that just means you're even crazier than that half-baked motherf—"

Robert lunged for him, slamming him hard into the wall outside the Chief's private office.

"_Hey, hey, hey!" _Gordon and two other agents rushed to pull them apart.

"You think you're the only one that's suffering from this?" Sabian bellowed, fighting against the two sets of arms holding him back.

"MY SON'S NOT A PSYCHO!" Robert screamed louder.

"Listen to—LISTEN TO ME!" Gordon urged, standing directly in front of him. "We need to—"

_"A court of law is going to decide that, not YOU!" _Sabian interrupted. "And for _your _sake I hope the insanity plea works. Otherwise, he killed a federal ag—"

"EX-federal agent," Robert seethed.

Sabian patted his chest hard, looking around at all the other law enforcement in the room. "He killed one of us! His son killed one of our own. He's the reason there's a sixteen year old kid in a coma…a grieving mother crying while she holds his hand! And this sick bastard's been _stalking _another innocent teenager and he could strike at any moment. He's got the weaponry to hold down fort-fuckin Knox! _Are you seriously allowing his _father _to run the investigation? _FUCK ALL OF YOU! I'm going above your heads! I'll have every fuckin badge in this building. Just WATCH!"

Gordon shook his head, his mouth a grim line. "We gotta bring him in, Rob," he said simply. "This kid needs to be off the streets before he hurts himself or someone else."

"He should have been in a cell the_ night_ this shit happened," Sabian barked.

"Shoulda, coulda, woulda," Gordon snarked, nodding his head at the officers standing on either side Sabian. "Cuff his ass," he instructed.

"For WHAT?" Sabian challenged.

Without warning Gordon pulled the gun holstered at his waist, slamming it hard against Kohn's head, kneeing him hard, making blood pour from his nose when he fell forward, grunting as he caught him before he could hit the floor. "Aggravated assault against an officer."

"No," Sabian said, screaming at the top of his lung when he lost the battle fighting against the handcuffs around his wrists. "This is BULLSHIT!"

"We just bought you time to figure out what the fuck you're gonna tell _our_ boss when he wants to know why it took us a _week _to apprehend our one and _only _suspect," Gordon told Kohn, looking around the room to see if anyone disagreed. No one spoke out. "We've got families too, Robbie. Don't screw us on this."

After a very pregnant pause, Agent Robert F. Kohn finally nodded. Pulling his wallet out, he handed the most recent picture he had of his son to the agent standing in front of him. "Put out an APB on Joshua Fitzgerald Kohn," he half-whispered, rubbing the knot forming above his eye. "And make it known that he's…..he's…_he's _armed…"

_And dangerous._

He didn't say it.

Because he couldn't.

He just couldn't accept reality.

Just like his only son.

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"Where's Tara?" Wendy asked, plopping down on the bed beside him. Jax rolled his eyes, tapping his fingers against the bottle in his hand.

"In her skin," he answered, shrugging.

Wendy smirked. "Don't you mean _under yours?"_

Jax offered up a dry smirk. "Haven't seen you around much lately," he commented. "I stopped by St. Thomas to see LJ soon as I found out…._shit is crazy_. Lowell's got to be the only dude I know that _doesn't _have an enemy...Any change in his….his condition?" When Wendy didn't answer, Jax turned to face her finally, his mouth forming into a frown as he studied her face—the dark circles under her eyes, the dry, disheveled blonde tumbleweed that was usually long, naturally wild curls. "_Jesus_, Wendy," Jax turned his body towards her, the downward turn of his lips sinking further the longer he looked at the girl pulling the Whiskey bottle out of his hand to take a swig of it. "Shit, I guess I can add shitty friend to list."

"With what?" Wendy challenged, tipping the bottle up.

Jax smiled wryly, shrugging, watching her drink. "I probably wouldn't have been much help either way," he mused. "We'd be doing the same shit we're doing right..." Wendy's turned her head towards him, following his blue eyes to the patch of skin on her forearm where her sleeve had been before she raised her arm to tip the bottle back. She tried to shake the sleeve down, but Jax had already seen it, grabbing a hold of her wrist, yanking her arm out to get a long, hard look.

"Hands off, Teller," Wendy hissed, pulling her arm free.

"What the fuck is that?" Jax barked, narrowing his eyes at her. "Are you shitting me? You think that's gonna help Lowell?"

Wendy's laughter was a bitter sound. "You might wanna focus on your own issues Mr. _Jameson."_

Jax scowled, shaking his head. "Me doing shots and you shooting shit in your arm ain't the same—"

_"Would it be better if I snorted it up my _Nose _instead?" _Wendy challenged, eyebrows rising. She held a hand up, leaving him no room to respond when she told him, "I'm here for the free booze, Teller. You can keep the after school special. It's nothing but _bullshit _coming from you anyway. Quit acting like you're my fuckin father."

"How long you been using?" Jax questioned, the pads of his fingers stinging when she snatched her arm away again before he could check for himself. "What are you—crystal? _H?"_

"A little of this and that," Wendy joked, shrugging nonchalantly. "I figure eventually I'll find the _right _one. I mean that's how doctors do it right? When one prescription doesn't pan out they adjust and readjust until it works."

"None of that shit's doctor prescribed," Jax growled, glaring at her. "And you know it, too."

"Technically Oxy _could _be prescribed," Wendy teased, smirking. She giggled at his expression. "Oh cut the crap, Prince. They way you're staring at me right now might actually make me think you care."

"Of course I c—"

"_Bullshit!" _Wendy hissed, rolling her eyes. "You and Gemma are full of it. She hates your girlfriend so much she moved me into her house just to fuck with her. My mother doesn't give a shit either but she really, _really _wants to try to love me. I've been _trying _to get her to do it for eight fuckin years but I guess she just needs a little more time."

"What the Hell are you—did something happ—"

_"Y'uuupp,"_ Wendy drawled, clearly mocking Jax's best friend. "I found a guy that actually gave a shit. Then some asshole turned him into a fuckin pin-cushion and now he's a fuckin vegetable."

Jax shook his head. "I thought the same shit about JT," he told her. "And now that asshole's back to being a disappointment just like he was before."

Wendy gave him a thumbs up. "Good for you," she said. "But you always get what you want though, don't you? Even when you don't _deserve _it?"

_WHAT THE FUCK?!_

He was going to have to remember to burn anything he didn't want pulled out of the garbage can and read from now on.

"Remember how you told Lowell you only had room for one junkie in your life?" Jax shook his head, forming an 'O' with his hand thumb and pointer finger. "I have _zero. _I'm not gonna sit back and watch you become a fuckin train wreck." Wendy pursed her lips, nodding as she move to slide off the bed. Jax grabbed her arm, shaking his head at her. "That's not what I meant."

"What _do _you mean, Jax?"

Jax sighed, pinning her with his indigo gaze as he spelled it out for her. "You remember a couple months back?" he asked her. "The last time you slept over. I was ready to flip the fuck out on you because I thought you were using...and if looks could kill, JT would be mourning another son. You asked me why would I would even _think—"_

"What's this obsession with you throwing everyone's words back at them?" Wendy hissed. "It's really fuckin annoying."

"You _thanked _me," Jax said simply, his voice still soft. "You told me it was nice knowing I cared about you." His hand slid down her arm slowly, folding over hers on top of the bed. "I _care _about you, Wendy."

No warning whatsoever.

Wendy launched herself at him, crushing her lips against his as she climbed onto his lap.

She was right back on the bed beside him in two seconds flat, blinking in surprise at the shirtless sixteen-year old standing up at the side of the bed. "The fuck you doing?"

The initial shock wore off just as fast as he'd jumped off the bed, annoyance taking it's place. "Not a damn thing, Jax," she replied, reaching for her purse at the edge of the bed as she stood up. _"Have a happy New Year."_

"Where are you going?"

"None of your damn business," Wendy said, headed for the door. Jax walked up behind her, grabbing her arm again. Wendy jerked violently away from him, the purse slung up her arm crashing to the floor—a ziploc bag full of plastic thumb bags he recognized tumbling out when the buttons popped open.

Back and forth.

Up and down.

Both pairs of eyes looked down at the drugs on the floor, then right back up to meet each other's eyes. Then Wendy shoved him hard, knocking him backwards. Tossing them back in the bag, she spun on her heel, pulling at the doorknob. "_Give it to me," _Jax growled, pulling her back, snatching the bag off her arm. He pried it open. When she tugged at her bag, Wendy fell back into the door when he abruptly it go. Jax no longer had any need for her purse. He'd already pulled what he wanted from inside of it.

Wendy was hot on his heels as he ran towards the bathroom, trying to push the door close behind him. Wendy kicked it back open, banging his elbow hard. "Give it _back," _Wendy seethed, yanking his head back roughly by the strands of his hair. "I haven't _tried _that yet!" She punched, clawed at the back of his neck, and launched herself on his back but Jax still made his way to the toilet—still reached for the handle, flushing everything he dropped into it. "_What the fuck is wrong with you?" _Wendy screeched, slapping him hard against his face when he turned towards her. "_Pretending _you're a good guy won't make you one," the angry blonde sneered. "Just like me pretending I'm anything more than some junkie-whore's daughter—"

"Cut it the fuck out!" Jax snapped. "You're not _HER!"_

Wendy smirked, choosing to misconstrue his words. _"That never bothered you before." _She pushed him back against the bathroom door, raking her nails against his chest, while her other hand trailed further down, rubbing his crotch. When Jax grabbed her wrist to pull her hand away she gripped him harder. "You really wanna be my shoulder to cry on?" Wendy taunted. "Do it the way we used to. You need somebody too, right Jax? _Where's Tara?_ Why you sitting in here by yourself when theirs a clubhouse full of your—"

"Those people _aren't _my family," Jax growled, glaring at the mere mention of the brothers who barely cast him a second glance ever since he told them he wasn't prospecting with Opie.

Wendy cocked an eyebrow. "Whose fault is that?"

_Tara._

He tried to force it down, force it out—clear her and the tired notion from his mind but she was there just like that. Tara was always there. She never left. He couldn't control it any more than he could control his dick, the way he responded to the mere thought of her even when he was angry.

Tara was on his mind.

He was thinking about her. Glaring over Wendy's shoulder as she rubbed his cock through his jeans, as she sucked kisses on his neck. His hands are at his sides, his shoulders stiff—even stiffer than his dick. "Come _on," _Wendy coaxed, whispering against the pulse lethargically pumping in his throat. "You're supposed to be making _me _feel better," she said, unclasping his belt buckle. She popped the top buttons open, pulled his zipper down and then his jeans. Stepping back, she moved to slide down to the floor but before the bend fully set in her knees she stopped.

Wendy stepped all the way back, brown eyes widening in disbelief.

_"Get the fuck outta here," _Wendy exclaimed. Jax's attention finally snapped toward her, blue eyes following her line of vision to his waist.

The words _PROPERTY OF TARA KNOWLES _were stitched across the waistband of the brand new boxers he had on—the Christmas present he'd dissed. The one he'd planned to use in phase three of making things right with Tara.

The letter was first.

He knew Tara better than even she thought he did. He knew she'd toss the jewelry aside and read the letter first. And he'd stay put, sitting on her front steps or standing outside of her window until she read it. Then when she finally let him he'd let her hear the words from his mouth, tell her to her face.

Then he'd show her.

God help him, he'd be an asshole for doing it but he knew every trigger she had and he planned to pull every single one of them until he was snatching her jeans open, until she was tearing them from his hips, until she could see what he was wearing underneath.

That was the plan.

But it didn't work out that way.

He should have been in her room. Or in his. Or anywhere else with his arms wrapped around her waist, kissing the sweet spot behind her ear.

"I haven't lost a bet in a long time, Teller," Wendy mused staring at his boxers. "Donna bought Opie a pair for every day of the week. Herself, too. When she convinced Tara to get a pair for you I laughed…told her there was no way in _fuckin Hell_ you'd wear them…that you'd probably just get pissed off." Wendy snickered, holding her hands up in mock-surrender as she walked backwards. "My bad, Dude," she said, smirking. "I didn't realized she _owned—" _Lightning fast, Jax lunged at her, nails digging into her sides. "_Checkmate." _Jax kissed her hard, rough hands burning her scalp as he tugged on her hair. Pulling back, he picked her up tossing her on the bad with enough force to rattle her teeth. Wendy reached to push his jeans down. He smacked her hands away. She reached to wrap them around his neck. He snatched them away from his shoulders, pinning them on either side of her head. Then she was forcing her hands between them, unfastening her own jeans. Then he was tugging on her shirt, just as roughly as everything else.

Her shirt got caught.

Well, he thought it did but it didn't—not quite.

Wendy was holding onto it, stopping him from moving and Jax didn't care to know why, didn't open his eyes—didn't want to open them to see what he was doing. _"Jax,"_ Wendy hissed, playing tug-o-war with her shirt, yanking it down when he pulled it back up. "Wait…hold on a sec...you're gonna—" Losing patience, he yanked her shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor, standing up at the foot of the bed so she wouldn't miss the glare he shot her.

Only she did.

She missed it because she wasn't looking at him.

The shirt wasn't the problem.

Wendy was staring down at her lap. The problem was in the palm of her hand. "GODDAMN IT, JAX!" Wendy screamed, glaring at him. "I _told you _to wait a fuckin minute!" Wendy shook her head, finally meeting the confused look in his expression. "You _broke _it," she accused, moisture pooling at the corners of her eyes. Jax flinched at the necklace she tossed into his face, catching it in his hand before it fell on the bed, brushing his thumb over the heart-shaped locket, gently pulling it open.

"I told him _no _Christmas presents," Wendy admitted as he stared at the tiny picture inside. "But he's a smartass like me so he gave it to me three weeks early….slipped it around my neck when I was sleeping."

"_Shit." _Jax stroked the broken chain in his palm absently. "I'm sorry," he told her. "I'll get it fixed….okay?"

When he met her eyes, Wendy was nodding at him, the most painful smile he'd ever seen spreading across her features. "Think you can fix his _brain _while you're at it?"

Jax sighed, looking down at the bed when he sat at the foot of it. "Why'd you come here?" He asked her quietly.

Wendy shrugged. "Because the drugs didn't make me feel any better."

Jax pulled back to meet her eyes. "But _I_ do."

"_I don't feel anything with you_," Wendy confessed.

Jax nodded once. "I know," he replied, the lack of feeling mutual. "…That's why this shit isn't worth it."

_For neither one of us._

_"He's gonna die, Jax," _Wendy sobbed, finally dropping the tough act. He almost wished she'd put the shields back. He'd never even seen her shed a tear. Shit was unnerving. Still he did the only thing he could think to do. Jax hugged her. "You're supposed to help," she cried. "All you did was make it worse."

Jax rubbed her back while she cried on his shoulder. He was her shoulder to cry on after all.

That's all he was.

That was all they'd ever be.

No more Novacaine, trying to numb the pain because it alway came back when it was over. And if they weren't careful the pain would never go away. Jax wanted it to go away, he really did.

But it didn't look that way to the green-eye brunette standing in the hallway, watching them through the crack in the door—absently fingering the clasps on the charm bracelet around her wrist.

* * *

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_TO BE CONTINUED..._

* * *

**Part II of CH71 coming soon. **

***Kristen Wig voice* **_Who's read-dee to parrrrrrtay?_

**|REVIEW| **(keeping in mind that they're TEENAGERS when you do!)


	80. Chapter 71: Part II

**Chapter 71: Part II (**Cross-Over**)**

_Felicity Huffman, how I adore thee..._

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

* * *

_When we collide we lose ourselves,_

_When we collide we break in two,_

_And as we push and we shove and we hurt the ones we love,_

_It's a _hard_ mistake,_

_When we collide,_

_We break..._

* * *

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_"FINALLY!" _Donna cried, throwing her hands up. "Where the Hell did you pick her up from? _Nevada?" _Tara's laughter wasn't quite the girlish giggle Donna's was, but her and Chastity laughed all the same—shaking their heads as they watched Opie rush towards her, pick the impatient, raven-haired girl up and toss her over his shoulder like a caveman. "Can I at least say—"

"You can say hi to her later," Opie interrupted, continuing his path towards the clubhouse doors.

"I swear he acts like he's never gotten laid in his life," Tara mused, smiling at the blonde sitting on top of the picnic table. Chastity was looking down in her lap, pressing buttons on the camcorder in her hand. "What are you doing out here? And what's with the camera? You doing undercover work for your cousin?" Tara teased.

Chastity smirked, rolling her eyes. "I'm making a video time capsule for the yearbook club," she answered raising the camera, aiming the lens in her direction, "I've been asking everyone about their futures, more specifically— the _immediate. _What you plan to do differently in the new year and how you want or expect it to impact your life going forward. And I was waiting for _you _actually," Chastity said. She pressed a button at the top of the camera and a red light flashed on. "I hope you're New Year's Resolution is more interesting than your boyfriend's."

Tara's eyebrows rose, the corners of her mouth twitching in amusement. "What did Jax say his New Year's resolution is?"

"An exact quote? _To stay the Hell away from blondes,_" Chastity answered snorting. "As if all that spun-gold on his head is out of the bottle."

Tara snickered. "Spun gold? _Really?"_

"I give credit where it's due," Chastity replied, shrugging. Then she leaned closer to her. "Can I tell you a secret?" When Tara nodded, she whispered, "_I'm _a bottle-blonde."

Tara gasped, forming an O-shape with her mouth. "_Scandalous!"_

Chastity laughed. "Yeah, Wendy thought so, too."

Tara's smile faltered, she moved a hand to rub her shoulder. "Have you see her lately?" she asked. "I feel shitty for not checking on her since…you know…_Lowell," _Tara told her, moving to sit down on the picnic table's bench. Chastity slid down from the table, sitting next to her. "I didn't even pack a bag. I just drove over to my aunts and _left. _I spent the week in Costa Rica while Wendy was….well, I mean you were with her right? You and Donna and Jax? You guys have—"

"I couldn't get a hold of her," Chastity admitted, frowning. "Tonight was the first time I've seen her since the day we all went to the mall together."

The day before Christmas Eve, the night Lowell was attacked.

"She's here right now?" Tara's eyebrows rose, she turned, looking towards the noisy clubhouse. "Well, I guess her and Jax have that in common. When life turns to shit, just get drunk and party."

"Isn't that what _you're _here for?" Chastity challenged. She watched her, following Tara's eyes to the charm bracelet around her wrist. _"Nice,"_ she commented, reaching for her arm to bring it closer for a better view. Tara smiled in silent agreement, but the happiness upturning her mouth contrasted with the confliction in her eyes, the worry she saw there. "You okay?"

Tara sighed, standing up. "Yeah," she told her, her smile spreading just a little more. She jutted her thumb towards the clubhouse. "I'm gonna go find Jax," she announced.

"You didn't tell me your New Year's resolution!" Chastity complained, several seconds later.

But Tara was already walking through the open clubhouse doors, the music and her preoccupied mind drowning out the blonde calling after her.

* * *

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_"I'm sorry, Babe…I swear to fuckin God I'll never—" _WHAM!

She'd slapped the taste of his mouth, that's what she would do. Then while he stood there, staring wide-eyed with a red imprint of her hand on his cheek she'd tell him the fuck off. She'd tell him just how much of an asshole he was and that she didn't deserve _any_ of the shit he gave her about _his father's _mistake. Why did she always have to be the messenger? She was sick of being shot at.

Tara had it all planned, right down to threatening to never again in life give him a _reason _to tell her how "fuckin amazing" she was.

Nope.

The next time he _ever _disrespected her—no matter what the he was angry about—Prince Teller would have to find somebody else to kneel in front of him. And she wasn't here to fall into his arms and gush over how much she loved his letter and the Christmas present he got her either (not right away at least.)

She wasn't a brat and he could never make her feel like one.

Jax was the brat.

He was a cocky, self-righteous, hot-tempered BRAT and he needed to know that writing her a letter saying how fuckin much he loved her every time he screwed up wasn't the answer, and it wouldn't work because she wasn't a welcome mat.

Yeah, that's it.

_"I'm not a fuckin welcome mat, Jax!" _

She'd set him straight.

_"You can't step on and off when you want to!"_

She would march right in there—right in the room where's she'd gotten rug-burn all over her legs, hands and knees that one time—and she'd let him HAVE it! And not in the way he wanted, not in the way _she _wanted. She'd tear the hotheaded idiot she loved more than she breathed in and out a brand _new _ass-hole and then she'd remind him for the fifty-millionth time that she could never outgrow him, that they would grow together—that she was in this just as deep as he was.

And then it would be her turn to apologize to him for taking Joshua's side. She'd admit that she believed him now and she was sorry for doubting him before. But she'd also remind him of the close call with Kyle Hobart—she'd urge him to _try, _to try _really _hard to think first and react later before he did something he couldn't take back.

Then they'd (do more than) kiss and make up.

But they'd make up for real this time, and if all worked out _Jax _would be the one with rug-burn—on his ass. He wasn't controlling shit tonight. She was in charge. The reigns were hers and if his "stupid fuckin pride" couldn't handle that, if he wasn't okay with her riding him until everyone in the clubhouse could hear him scream her name over the music he could literally fuck himself. Him and his hand—that's what it would be.

Because Tara Knowles had a plan.

Tara had a speech, a proclamation without the pen and paper he'd used. No written letter—just the thoughts that had run through her mind the entire trip from her bedroom to the clubhouse.

As Tara walked down the narrow hallway leading to the dorms, the music back in the lounge faded ever-so-lightly. A familiar giggle filled the air.

_Wendy._

For a moment—just a moment, Tara smiled at the welcomed sound. With Lowell's condition still up in air, she was happy that Jax, who undoubtedly was the source of her mirth could lighten her mood, lift her spirits in any….

Well, not _any_ way.

Not that way.

"Okay, so I _was_ right," came Wendy Case's voice. They were sitting in the center of the bed. Wendy's back was to her—the clasps of her black bra half-fastened, one leg folded underneath her. Jax was smiling at her, their faces mere inches apart, one of his hands at her waist, the other on her shoulder. "But I don't get it. If you flipped out on her over them why the fuck are you wearing them now?"

"After the way I reacted?" Jax chuckled, pointing at the waistband of the boxers he was wearing—boxers exposed by his lack of a shirt. "These are probably the only way I'm getting laid ever again."

"Not the _only _way," Wendy teased, pressing a finger to his chest. "There's always—"

Tara's hands were pulling on the doorknob, snapping the door shut before she could hear the _"Tweedle-D and Tweedle-Cum" _end of Wendy's sentence. An ill-timed joke that was drowned out by the sound of footsteps approaching.

"Hey, you're _Tara,_ right? The _Prince's _girl."

Tara was staring at the door she'd just shut. In that moment she could make out every dent in the wood, every chip in the paint—the bent nail on one of the hinges that needed fixing. The music blaring in the clubhouse faded with the laughter seeping out from behind the closed dorm room door.

Moisture pooled in her eyes, blurring her vision. Absently, she fingered the charms on the bracelet in her hand—the one she'd unconsciously pulled off. The sharp end of the cadecus dug into the skin underneath her nails.

She didn't feel it.

Tara didn't feel anything but the heat burning her in her chest—the bridge of her nostril-flaring nose, her cheeks hallowing against her clenched jaw.

She refused.

To cry.

Her eardrums throbbed—they were congested with a single sound.

Her heartbeat.

She couldn't hear anything but the rapid thump of her heart pounding in her ears, making her chest rise and fall fast as her eyes remained glued on the door she hadn't closed in time.

The door that she wished she never looked in through.

_"You okay, _Darlin?_" _

Tara flinched at the hand pressing against her shoulder.

That was when the first traitorous tear fell.

A lone drop, rubbed away with the rest of them glittering the corners of her eyes. Tara raised her hand, swiping them away, fixed a smile no one who didn't know her would question on her face and turned around.

"You alright?" Jason Emerson asked her once again. Tara nodded, green eyes glazing over the white and blue _PROSPECT _patch sewn into the breast-pocket of the leather kutte he wore, traveling down to the Vodka bottle in his hand.

Tara smirked at the mild-surprise in his eyes when she took the bottle from him, tipping her head back—pouring it into her mouth. Jason watched her swallow with only the slightest hint of a wince, eyes slowly traveling down from her throat to the cleavage peeking out of her low-cut top. "I'm good," Tara lied. The bracelet in her hand slipped through her fingers when she reached to tap him on his shoulder. She didn't even look down, continuing past him, hips swiveling as she made her way down the hallway, headed back towards the lounge. Tara was turning the corner when she tilted her head back to glance down the hallway, cocking an eyebrow at the prospect thumbing her charm bracelet in his palm.

It was a split second.

Tara froze, the urge to snatch it back from him seized her as she watched him move to put it in his pocket.

_"There you are," _Chastity said behind her. "I was about to come looking for you. And _no _I wasn't hoping at all to _accidentally _open the door and—"

Then the moment passed.

Tara spun around abruptly, silencing the blonde standing in front of her with her mouth as she kissed her.

Soft, quick and strawberry flavored—Tara pulled back, giggling wildly despite her mood at the wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression on Chastity's face. Then she walked past her, sauntered toward the bar, climbed up on the counter, kicking shot glasses and beer bottles out of the way. Tara winked, crooked her finger, smiling at the blonde walking towards her like she was under a spell. She held a hand out to Chastity, pulling her up next to her.

"…Girl, to be with you is my favorite thing

… I can't wait till I see you again

….I want to put on my, my, my, my, my, boogie shoes

Just to boogie with you….."

All eyes were on the two of them—and there wasn't a single male in the Club Reaper lounge that missed a single swerve of their hips, the twirling of their waists, their salaciously roaming hands, or the bottle in Tara's that they took turns swigging from. Every guy in the room noticed them.

Noticed _her._

Including Padraic Telford.

* * *

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Byron Matthews loved working the late shift at his grandfather's hardware store. Customers were few and far between during the final hours before closing. This was his time to relax, kick back and catch up on the smoking babes in Sports Illustrated or NASCAR magazine—drooling over the contents of both.

_"Excuse me." _Byron lifted his head at the sound of his voice. "I searched the aisles top to bottom," the young man said, holding up a thick, plastic-wrapped pack of rope, "and this is the only heavy-duty Polypropylene rope left on the shelves. All the rest is either too short of it's not diamond braid. Think you could check in the back and see if there's more in stock?"

"Sure," Byron replied, nodding at the basket in the man's hand. "I'll check but I'm pretty sure all we have is out on the floor. Do you mind if I ring the rest of your stuff up first?"

"Not at all," answered the smiling man. Raking a hand through his shiny, shoulder-length, flaming-orange hair, he placed the shopping basket on the counter, stacking each item inside of it one by one onto the ramp. Byron's eyes flickered between the items in front of him, the barcode scanner lax in his hand when the last item was placed—as he looked up curiously at the smiling man buying bleach, duct-tape, tarps, heavy-duty rope and leather pigskin gloves.

Byron shook off the chill running up his spine as his eyes finally noticed the creepiness in his smile, he ignored the unnamed feeling making the fine hairs on his arms and the nape of his neck stand up when he tried and failed to gauge the intensity of the man's stare through the dark aviator shades his eyes were hidden behind.

"Something wrong?" The brightly-smiling man asked him finally.

Byron found himself quickly shaking his head, banging the barcode scanner against the counter in his haste to raise it to the first item he reached for—the one nearest to his inexplicably shaking hand. "_Cash or credit?" _

The young man chuckled.

It was a sound no less unsettling than his info-mercial tone of his voice.

"_Cash."_

* * *

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"It doesn't matter," Diane stressed. "Not anymore. Not after—"

"It matters to _me," _her older brother insisted, pressing a palm to his chest. "It matters to _me, _Dee-Dee," Arthur explained. "We made a deal, we had an agreement and I plan to stick it. You told me six months. I still have—"

Diane shook her head, frowning. "You don't have six months," she argued. "Not if you insist on counting that _one _slip up—"

"_No slip ups," _Arthur interrupted, nodding in agreement to her statement. "That's what you said. Six months sober, no slip ups. Those were the terms and just like all steps I worked through the program I _have _to stay true to my word. You can't let me off the hook just because—"

"_Because you might die if I don't?" _Diane glared in frustration, swiping the back of her hand at the moisture threatening to well in her eyes.

"Nothing's going to happen to me," Arthur told her, reaching for her hand. "Doc's get it wrong all the time. Hell, for all I know I got lung Cancer instead of a bad liver. You heard Doctor Hellman. She said there's—"

"A _chance _you can make the deadline," Diane huffed, shaking her head. "She said _chance. _There's a chance you'll be alright until then. I know. I _did _hear her but did you hear her when she explained what happens if you _can't _make until then? All the increased risks? Why the Hell would I hold you to a deadline when you might actually be _dead _before you—"

"I'm not dying, Dee," Arthur urged, wiping away the tears cascading down her cheeks.

Diane nodded. "I know you're not," she replied, narrowing misty eyes at him. "Because you're getting the damn surgery _next week, _not three months from now."

"Dee—"

Diane held her hand up, pulling the ringing cellphone from the pocket of her scrub pants, glaring her brother to silence as she flipped it open, pressing it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Di, _it's me." _The Scottish lilt of his voice left no room to wonder which 'me' she was speaking to. "Where are you right now?"

"How'd you get this number?"

Padraic chuckled, the hearty sound rumbling through her own chest the way the music in the background reverberated through the clubhouse walls. "Not important at the moment, lovey," he answered. "And wherever you are, whatever you're doin, you need to get down here to Reaper. Little Grace is having a bit too much fun."

"Tara's at the clubhouse?" Diane questioned, eyebrows threading together.

_Guess she's back on with Jackson._

What the Hell were her and Jax doing to warrant her ex calling her up?

"Where's—"

"Jackie-boy is outta sight," Padraic supplied without her asking. "But all eyes are on _Tara _right now. I don't know what happened but if she's anything like her aunt you should probably get here before Jackie's Harley is up in flames."

"Shit," Diane hissed, cracking a wry smile. "I'm on my way right now. Be there soon as I can."

"Aye."

"Pat?"

"Yes, Darlin'."

"Please don't let anything happen to her," Diane urged.

"She'll be alright," Padraic promised. "Looks like her brother's come to save the day."

Diane froze, one arm still out of the jacket she'd be putting on. "_What?"_

"Opie," Padraic responded. "I thought he had a thing for her at first. But it's not like that. He just looks out for her…..the way Kozy did for you, I guess."

Diane smiled. "Yeah," she replied. "_He did."_

_And that's all it ever was._

* * *

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_"Whooaaah!"_ Opie jumped forward just in time, catching Tara in his arms right before she face-planted onto the dirty bar floor. She'd lost her balance—impaired judgment putting more focus on saving the liquor bottle Chastity had accidentally bumped into with her hip, without any concern that she'd fall on her face in the process.

_"Big brother Opie!" _Tara squealed. She grabbed his face, twisted his beard when she kissed both his cheeks. "Always saving the day!" Opie rolled his eyes, sitting her down on wobbly legs and swiping the Vodka bottle from her hand in one motion. "HEY! Get your own!"

"You've had enough," Opie told her, snickering when she tripped backwards. Donna joined in with him when she saw red flood Miles cheeks as he caught her, holding her upright by her waist. Both their smiles of amusement faltered, shock taking its place when Tara leaned back against him, turning her head to meet his eyes.

"Hands off my waist, _prospect!" _Tara teased, giggling when he quickly dropped his hands. Turning all the way around to face him, she stumbled a bit, bracing her palms against his broad, toned shoulders. Then, once she felt secure enough, she grabbed his hands, slowly sliding them down her waist, around her hips—placing of his palms on her ass. "There," she purred. "That's somewhere a little more _useful _don't you think?"

"Shit," Donna hissed behind her, eyes scanning the room. "I'll get her, you get J—"

"Tara," Opie called, pulling her back. Tara jerked her arm away from him, glaring when he overpowered her, spinning her around anyway. "Cut it out," Opie said, glaring at Miles over her shoulder. "You're drunk."

Tara shrugged, snorting. "Runs in the family."

Opie frowned, finally noticing her mood. "What's wrong with you?"

"Trust me sweetheart," Donna told her, grabbing her arm. "Been there, done that, and I got a _Chastity _out of it. Lucky for me she's gay…_come on," _she urged, pulling her along. "If you're that pissed at Jax just pop the tires on his Harl—"

"THAT WAS _YOU?"_

Donna winced at Opie's barking voice. _"Shit_," she mumbled. "I forgot I didn't—"

"POP CHEWED MY ASS FOR A _MONTH _FOR BEING LATE BEC—"

"Taking care of your s—_Tara right now!" _Donna yelled back, pulling the stumbling brunette back towards the dorms even faster. "We'll talk about the lie that _skank_ Christina told me later—_love you! _Mwuah!"

_"Mileeesss!" _Tara chanted, blowing a kiss at him just before Donna yanked her around the corner. "Hey, GRUNT! I got some work for you, Baby!"

"_No the fuck she doesn't,_" Opie snapped, glaring at Miles.

The blushing nineteen-year old shrugged his shoulders. "What, bro? _I didn't do anything."_

He didn't and he never would have.

_He_ never would have.

* * *

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It was a miracle Donna made it out of the dorm room alive. The mouthy, pint-sized teenage girl didn't seem to understand that there was a time and a place for everything.

Clipping your toenails on the dining room table wasn't ideal—especially while dinner is being served.

Eating half your weight in funnel cake isn't the best idea when you're about to get on a rollercoaster.

And talking Tara Knowles to death while she's on her knees, leaning over a toilet bowl wasn't the smartest choice. Neither was continuing to ramble on and on, asking her questions while she's glaring at you through the bathroom mirror while gargling with mouthwash she found in the cabinet.

Tara's only saving grace—the only thing that saved her from catching a murder case was when she laid down across the bed in the center of the dorm room, popping the pill Donna gave her and closed her eyes. Pretending to fall asleep got the annoying munchkin to finally walk off, flipping the lights off behind her as she ran off to see if she was short enough to slip past Opie without him catching her.

Then all she was left with her thoughts. All the things she didn't want to think about, the reason she'd opted to block them out instead.

Still, Tara was ready to sing praises to the man upstairs that Donna took off when the door creaked open again, and the light was flipped back on. She leaned up on her elbow to see the prospect from earlier walking towards her, lightly snapping the door shut behind him.

"Get out," Tara hissed, laying back down on the pillow.

She didn't even know his name, but she'd heard him talking behind Jax's back on more than one occasion.

_Dick._

_"You dropped this,"_ Jason told her, holding his open palm out to her. When Tara didn't bother reaching for it, opting to glare at it instead, he helped himself to the edge of the bed, gently grabbing her arm as he sat down, lifting her wrist up to clasp the bracelet around it. "There."

_"Thanks, Darlin,"_ Tara sneered, rolling her eyes at the jewelry dangling from her wrist.

_"Pretty,"_ Jason said, but when Tara looked up to meet his eyes he wasn't staring at the bracelet. He was staring at her. "So...you looked like you were crying earlier…"

Tara merely offered him a half-shrug. "And?"

Jason mirrored the gesture. "I guess I was wondering why…"

"None of your business," Tara huffed, fluffing the pillow underneath her head when she turned away from him.

_"_No, you're right," Jason agreed, eyes trailing down to the small of her back that was left exposed from the high-rise of her shirt, panties peeking out under her low-riding shorts. _"I'm sorry."_

Tara laughed at that.

She flipped over on her back, eyes facing the ceiling and laughed.

Hard.

It was throaty and deep—but a hollow, bitter sound all the same.

"You're _sorry," _Tara mocked. Turning towards him, her face rested in her palm, elbow digging into pillow once more. "What the fuck do you want?"

Jason's eyebrows rose. "What?"

Tara rolled her eyes. "The only time people apologize to me is when they _want _something," she surmised. "Apologies don't mean _shit," _the jaded brunette barked. "What do you want?"

There was a pregnant pause when no one spoke—no one moved an inch.

Then, finally Jason answered her.

He answered by leaning towards her, curving his hand around her neck—fingers pressing at the nape as he grazed her mouth with his own.

Tara froze, flinching at the foreign, unexpected sensation—green eyes blinked hard, fluttering in surprise, her hand moving to push against his chest, to shove him away.

And she did.

She slapped him hard across the face, too.

Stabbing a finger into the center of his forehead, Tara glared at him. "_Get off," _she demanded, shoving him hard onto the floor.

Looking up at her from the floor, Jason smiled. "That's what I'm trying to do, Darlin," he countered. "What do you say? _Ladies first, _I promise._"_

_How about ladies _only?

* * *

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"I swear I'm gonna have blue balls for a fuckin year," Jax grumbled, staring up at the ceiling. "Either that or I won't have a dick….or I'll have that Carpal tunnel shit from jerking off too damn much."

Wendy turned her head towards him, one eyebrow cocked. "What the Hell are you talking about?"

"Tara," Jax answered, widening his eyes as if to say 'DUH!. "She's gonna shit a fuckin brick over this."

Wendy sat up, her own eyes rounding. "You're not seriously gonna tell her…"

Jax shrugged, a wry smile twisting his mouth to one side. "She'll get it," he mused. "She'll be _pissed _but she'll get it. Don't worry, I won't tell her you jumped me," he teased, wriggling his eyebrows.

"You shouldn't tell her anything," Wendy replied, shaking her head. Waving her hand, she gestured between them, the jeans they'd never taken off, their shirts that were back on. "There's nothing to tell. _Nothing happened. _And if you even _try _to explain this shit…_Glenda? _She's supposed to be the good witch, right?" Jax rolled his eyes, smirking. "You're laughing now but you won't find it funny when she nails your ass to a post like the fuckin scarecrow."

"She'll probably nail _you," _Jax teased her. "I'll be on her shit-list for a while and then when she's ready to forgive me—_that's _when I get nailed. Fuck, I can't _wait _to get nailed."

Wendy sighed. "What the Hell happened to you, Dude? Either this shit with Tara made you cockier or those boxers you're wearing are way too damn tight. Tara is _just like _Tinkerbell. You haven't even _seen _her crazy yet. You want to go through what Opie goes through? You know Donna popped his tires, right? She doesn't _trust _him because of one little mistake…..that some other asshole made. Tara's not gonna trust you."

"Sounds like you're more worried about her not trusting _you," _Jax challenged, tilting his head sideways to squint at her. "I already told you I wouldn't throw you under the bus."

"All she's gonna care about is that I was _under _you," Wendy argued. "Not how long, not that we stopped. And she…..well if she's pissed enough—and she probably _will _be…..she'll probably tell Lowell soon as he opens his damn eyes. Bitches are catty like that."

Jax's smile spread all the way to eyes, crinkling the corners of them. "So he's waking up, huh?_"_

Wendy look down at the space on the bed between them. "I mean _If—"_

_"Nope," _Jax interrupted, smirking. "Too late to change it now, Blondie. Glad you're finally admitting there's a shot," he said, looking down at her arm. "Maybe now the _next _one won't go into your wrist."

"Neither one of them need to know," Wendy said simply. "They'd make a big deal out of it. You _know _they will. And LJ doesn't need to know that I'm a hypocrite because I'm never gonna _be _a hyprocrite again…..just like Tara doesn't need to know how I found out you like to wear her name over your dick."

"_Fuck you," _Jax growled, scowling at her.

Wendy shook her head, smiling. "That's what you _didn't _do, but if you say anything Tara's not going to see it that way."

"Yeah….okay."

Jax slid off the bed, reaching for the broken necklace he'd laid beside the lamp on the nightstand. Holding it up to her, he promised, "I'll take this to the jewelry shop to get fixed during my break this weekend."

"Thanks," Wendy said. She looked towards the closed dorm-room door the same time he did, both finally noticing that the noise out in the lounge has lessened, the party clearly relocating, winding down—people hobbling off to hook up or sit out by the _SAMCRO _grill around the corner of the clubhouse, drinking, dancing and watching whoever was sparring in the ring at the moment.

Jax looked down at the floor. "I thought she'd show up," he admitted quietly.

"Didn't you say she was with LJ's cousin?"

Jax's expression darkened, fists reflexively clenching at his sides. "Yeah," he sneered. Then he walked towards the door, pulling it open.

Wendy was right behind him moments later.

* * *

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Jax stepped out into the longue, looking around. Just as he'd suspected, most of the party guest—club members, Old ladies, croweaters, family and hang-arounds were either outside, somewhere sleeping one off or getting off.

Not all of them though.

"What the fuck did you do to Tara?" Opie asked, looking up at him.

Jax and Wendy glanced at each other briefly before quickly averting their gazes as they walked towards him. "Where's your keeper?" Jax retorted.

Wendy snickered. "You sure _you _want to go there?"

Opie ignored her, not even cracking a smile. "You need me to repeat the question?"

"I need you to hop off my—"

_"I swear to GOD if Chastity doesn't stop following me around with that stupid camera," _Donna gushed, walking inside. "It's like she's trying to make a fuckin documentary. And it's about to be called _Why Donna Lewis killed my ass. _She's not even getting extra credit! Maybe she _should _hook up with Ima just for something else to—"

"What are you doing out here?" Opie interrupted, eyebrows bunching together.

Donna's brows rose. "Did you not hear me? I'm _hiding _from Chastity. She keeps—"

_"Where's Tara?"_

"She's laying down in your room," Donna answered, sitting down next to him.

Jax cocked his head to one side. "Tara's _here?"_

Opie snorted, his earlier sneer returning even as he threw an arm over Donna's shoulder—what she admitted to doing to his bike momentarily forgotten. "Maybe you'd know that if you—"

"Where is she?" Jax interjected, looking between the couple on the couch. "Why is she laying down? Did that fuckin psycho—"

"You _knew _that creep was with her?" Opie countered.

Jax nodded, scowling. "She kicked me out," he said.

"So you _left _her there," Opie accused, shaking his head. "Un-fuckin-believable. He attacked her! Tara was—"

"He WHAT?"

"Oh fuck you," Opie snapped. "Don't pretend you give a shit now!"

"You're really starting to piss me off," Jax warned him, walking closer. "Taking your _role _a little too—"

Opie jumped up, getting his face. "Go ahead and say it, asshole!"

"HEY," Wendy exclaimed, quickly sliding between the two of them. Someone should have brought Donna a bucket of popcorn and a soda. It would have went well with her New Year's Eve entertainment. She didn't look the least bit bothered as she continued sitting—cross-legged on the couch watching the two sixteen-year old boys circle around the blonde peacekeeper in the middle. "Chill the fuck out," Wendy directed, holding her hands up between the two of them. "You both love her. No need to kill each other to prove who loves her more. Okay, Cain and Abel?"

"Where is she?" Jax asked again, looking over at Donna.

"She's in _my _dorm r—"

"You mean the one you sleep in now that _I _don't want it," Jax sneered. "Thanks," he hissed, blue eyes flitting towards Donna before he stalked off.

"Well that was…._uneventful."_

"Oh shut the Hell up, Donna," Opie snapped. "And don't think I forgot what you did to my bike either!"

* * *

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"ARE YOU KIDDING ME BITCH?!"

Jax paused mid-step, stopping just as he'd turned the corner leading into the back hallway. Then—

_"Oh, just get out!"_

The sound of Tara's voice sent him flying down the hallway, pulling the door to the dorm-room on the left side open just as Tara went sliding down the bed. One leg was in the air—the leg attached to the ankle trapped in Jason Emerson's grip when he tugged her down.

"Get the Hell off of—"

"ARE YOU FUCKIN STUPID?" Jax bellowed, making both of them jump as he ran into the room.

Tara gasped, reflexively tugging hard on her shirt before abandoning the hopeless cause of pulling it down, over her lower body—reaching for the pillow behind her instead.

But covering herself up no longer matter when Jax lunged for Jason, when Jason skittered backwards and pulled the gun tucked in the back of his jeans. Jax was moving too fast to react or maybe he wasn't. Maybe he just didn't react the way a normal person should. Maybe—just like any other time rage consumed him, all he saw was his target of the moment and nothing else.

Shots rang and out and several footsteps trampled down the hallway seconds after. Tara was naked from her hips down, ass exposed to the three teenagers running through the doorway as she tried and failed to pull Jax back.

"JACKSON, STOP IT!" Tara yelled, slapping him on his back. "Enough! He's just because...look just—we were just—"

"WE?" Jax bellowed, head jerking up towards her.

Jason seized the moment to buck him off, drawing his fist back to slam it into Jax' face. Opie charged forward, grabbing him by the back of his neck, squeezing hard as he yanked him backward. As soon as he did, Tara retreated back up towards the headboard, placing the pillow over her lap.

When Wendy wordlessly bent over, picking up her jeans and panties to hand them to her, Tara wasn't too embarrassed to glare when she snatched out of her hand.

_"What the Hell is going on?" _Donna yelled.

"What the fuck you mean _WE__?" _Jax screamed over her as he jumped up from the floor.

"Ain't no fuckin _WE," _Jason growled, fighting against the restraint Opie had over his arms. "What the Hell do you see in this bitch, huh? She's stuck up and s_elfish._"

Tara giggled. "It's that what you call the croweaters that _service _you? Ain't so nice when the shoes on the other foot is it, _outlaw?"_

_Not even without a thousand condoms, asshole. _

"Why the Hell does it sound like you're shoot—" Miles stopped talking, going from peeking into the room to trying his damndest to avert his eyes away from the brunette on the bed in the center of the room when he asked Opie, "What the fuck is going on?"

"Get out!" Opie barked, shoving Jason towards the door. He picked his fallen gun off the floor the second he saw Jax's eyes flit towards it, disassembling it, tossing the pieces aside. Then his eyes found Tara, though only for a moment before he turned his back to her. "You okay, Tara?" Opie asked the wall.

"I wish people would stop asking me that shit," Tara answered. "I'm _fine, _Opie. He didn't do anything I didn't _want _him to do."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Jax snapped, glaring at her. Tara watched—she actually _saw _it. The sharp intake of breath as his eyes zeroed in on the bracelet clasped around her wrist. "How'd you….you…I must have….but then you…._you read my letter."_

Tara nodded once stiffly. "Yeah."

"Let's go, Opie," Donna instructed, pulling him out of the room. Wendy followed behind them.

"You read my letter and _this _is what you did?" Jax uttered, gaping at her in shock. "You hook up with some…some—"

"You _wrote _the letter," Tara challenged, crossing her arms. "Didn't stop_ you_ did it?" Jax shook his head, glowering at her. "Are you mad at me, Jackson?" Tara sneered. "You really shouldn't be, Baby. It didn't mean _anything..._that's what you were gonna tell me isn't it?"

Jax smiled at her. "I'm not mad at all, Tara," he lied, shaking his head at her. "I think this is perfect. And it's not like we put a name on it or anything, right?"

Tara's nostrils flared. "I guess _girlfriend _doesn't mean the same thing to you that it did to me."

Or maybe he just wanted one more _blonde_ before he stuck to his pact to stay away from them in the new year.

Jax laughed, moving to sit on the bed with her, just missing her foot when he plopped down. "That's funny coming from the girl that just finished fuckin some grunt who's probably not even gonna make patch—"

"Why not?" Tara taunted, leaning close to him. "Because he hurt little Prince Teller's feelings?" It was her turn to chuckle when his expression darkened. "I didn't sleep with him, Jackson. That's why he's so damn pissed."

Jax looked down towards her naked legs. "You expect me to believe that shit?"

Tara shrugged, tossing the pillow aside to slide her panties on. "Believe whatever you want, Jax," she said putting her legs into her jeans. "I didn't fuck him. That's _your _M.O...He wanted to know what I _taste _like," the fuming brunette taunted, winking at him. She leaned towards him, lowering her voice to just above a whisper. _"I'm glad you came in when you did though," _she told him, smiling, "Because after he made _me _come he was looking for a little quid pro quo if you know what I—"

"What I _know _is that you can't call _Maize_ a whore anymore," Jax snapped back. "That would be like the pot calling the kettle black."

Without even a split-second warning Tara slapped him hard across the face. "Fuck you," she growled.

Jax laughed at her. "Just _me_, Babe? Or should I call that grunt back in here to join the party? What about Opie's new best friend _Miles?_ He'd probably like how you _taste,_ too. Matter fact, let's bring the whole club in here. You said it yourself, Tara. Kyle's not the only one that gets hard for teenage pussy. Especially _yours _right? It has such little _milage. _At least you know you have a backup plan if you flunk out of medical school. You can always just come back here and be a _croweater. _Doctors aren't the only ones that know how to keep people healthy. You kiss _everything _better don't you, Tara?"

Tara could barely see him through her tears.

But her vision was just clear enough when she aimed a fist at his face, punching him so hard he flew backwards. Standing up, her foot helped him the rest of the way down when she kicked him hard as she could in his groin—twice.

Her nails dug into the skin of her wrist when she tore the bracelet from around it, tossing it in his face. That was when Wendy stepped out from behind the wall, looking inside the room to see Jax clutching his crotch while Tara stood over him. "Don't worry, Jackson," she cooed, glancing up at the blonde standing in the doorway. "I'm sure _Wendy _will kiss it better for you, won't you Wendy? That's what your _friendship _is all about, right?"

"No," Wendy answered, shaking her head. "It isn't."

Tara smirked. "I _saw _you," she said. She was too busy glaring at the brown-eyed girl standing in the doorway to see surprise flash in Jax's eyes.

Wendy didn't look shocked at all. "I know," she replied, "Or at least I _did _once I came in here and saw—look, nothing happened with us okay?"

Tara nodded at every word she spoke, and the bobble-head motion continued when she finished her statement, her lips pursing. "Right," she mused. "Nothing happened between you two. Is that what you want me to believe? So what were you doing with your clothes off—"

"It was just our _shirts—"_

"Why were your shirts off, Wendy?" Tara asked, her voice steadily rising. "Why? Were you checking each other's backs for TICKS?!"

"Wait a minute, Babe," Jax choked out, leaning on the bed for support to stand. Tara kneed him in his side, knocking him right back down.

"Babe? REALLY, Jackson?" Tara mushed him hard in his forehead. "I'm your _Babe _again? That was quick! So what am I, Babe the croweater?"

"Tara, I didn't know—_look I thought you read my_—I thought you—_I didn't know_—"

"That I caught you hooking up with your ex?" Tara barked. "_What?_ You think I read your BULLSHIT love letter and all of a sudden I got the urge to fuck the only asshole in this clubhouse more arrogant than YOU? I'm not your _Babe, _Jackson. I'm not _Babe _at all. _You're _the Babe, okay Jackson? You're Babe the pig. You are a FUCKIN PIG and I hate you!"

"Tara—"

"DON'T _TOUCH_ ME!" Tara kicked her arms off of her legs, knocking Wendy hard into the wall when she stormed out of the room, sandals in her hands.

Jax sat there on the floor—back pressed against the bed, one knee bent towards his chest, staring down at the worn carpet spread across dorm room floor.

"What the point of us stopping, Jax?" Wendy asked quietly. "I could have lived with the mistake," she admitted, smiling bitterly. "Hell, I _am _a mistake but that's my shit. You were the one wanting to do the right thing. You wanted to _tell _her."

"Turns out I didn't have to."

"What you _didn't _have to do was say everything you just said," Wendy told him. "What you just did was way worse than a fifteen minute timeout from all the bullshit I didn't...Look, what you just did? You're an asshole all by yourself…you don't need me or any other chick to help you."

Jax chuckled bitterly. "Are you breaking up with me, Wendy?"

Wendy sighed. "I hope your real New Year's resolution is to grow the fuck up."

Jax smirked at her, finally looking up to meet her disapproving gaze. "You first," he sneered at her, "_Junkie."_

Wendy didn't react at all, didn't respond verbally or otherwise.

She was far from maternal, but she knew enough not to react to a child's temper tantrum.

Instead she simply pulled the door shut behind her when she walked out. And she'd only taken a few steps before the sound of the room being torn apart echoed through the walls.

Still, she kept walking.

* * *

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Lowell Harland Jr. gasped, eyes flying open—slowly blinking away the blur in his vision as a familiar figure appeared suddenly at his side.

"Lowell?" Barbara Harland croaked, rubbing his arm. Or maybe she wasn't. Maybe it was just tingling—the same sensation he felt in his legs and his toes, like the fingers on his left hand. "Oh my God, Baby," the hysterical mother cried, "Lowell? _Lowell?" _She gently pulled at the oxygen mask over his face. "LJ? Baby? Can you under—can you hear me, Baby? Blink twice if you c—OH, you can! Okay, okay, okay…Can you foll—_Here, look, _follow my—_Oh GOD, _LOWELL, BA—_oh I'm so sorry!" _Barbara said when she saw her son flinch at the shrillness of her voice. "Can you…..can you talk to—say anything, Baby. Go ahead, try…..Lowell…..Baby, I need you to tr—"

_"I…Eee…..jobs…war…..j-j-jobs…war….."_

Barbara leaned in close to him, grabbing his hand, eyes focused on his slowly moving lips. "Okay...I can't...I can't really under—okay, try again, Baby. Try one more—"

"Jobs….war…..ta-ta-ta…war….ta-tar-war—"

"Tara?" Barbara's eyes widened when he blinked twice. "Yes, Baby. Tara was here! Did you hear her when—Oh Lowell, your friend's an Angel. She got her aunt's husband to fly in—_what's wrong, Baby? _What is it?" She urged when she felt his fingers slowly wriggling across the bed to touch the side of her arm.

_"Jobs-_War!" Lowell Junior insisted.

Barbara shook her head, sympathy and concern warring to overtake her features. "I don't know what you're trying to—"

_"Joshua."_

Barbara looked up towards the door—eyebrows raising at her brother, and not because of the swollen knot above his brow. "What?"

"He's saying _Joshua," _Robert Kohn admitted, sighing. Dropping the icepack he'd been holding to his face, he slowly walked towards them. Looking down at her nephew, he stared at him for what seemed like hours before he finally found the courage to ask the question he'd been dreading the answer to. "Did my s….._did Joshua do this to you, son?"_

Lowell Harland Junior glanced towards his mother's disbelieving expression briefly before he blinked twice in response.

That was when Barbara's knees buckled—when she keeled sideways, falling into the monitor parked at her son's bedside.

* * *

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_"Tara, wait up!"_ Wendy called after her. Tara spun around, jerking away from the blonde reaching for her arm. "Listen, _nothing_ happen with us okay? I swear it didn't. And he was probably going to tell you everything even though I told him not to. Now, I'm not saying I'll just _stand_ here and let you do it but if anybody deserves a bloody nose, it's not on Jax. It's me. _I started it._"

"Did you hold him a gunpoint?" Tara challenged. She folded her arms across her chest, leaning back on one heel—pure venom dripping from the teeth glinting in her smile. _"Wow,_" the green-eyed brunette gushed. "Looks like Jax did a number on you too, huh, Wendy? He _finally _got you to fall in line with all his other girls. When did that even happeny?_ Huh?_ Was it after he beat shit out of your mother's drug dealer boyfriend? I _bet _that's when it was. _Right? _Look at you….I'm surprised you're not picking out wedding dresses like the rest of them. All he had to do was defend your honor _once _and now you're the head sister-wife making sure his new favorite sticks around."

"You know it's not like that," Wendy argued, shaking her head. "Jax loves you. He's just all over the place, Tara. We _both _are. Me and this shit with Lowell and...and my mom...and Jax with whatever's going between the two of you…"

"Oh so you don't know why the Prince is mad with me?" Tara asked, widening her eyes. "So much for _pillow talk, _huh."

"I think tonight had more to do with you letting another dude put his head between your legs."

Tara clapped her hands. "Another reason to add to the list of why—"

"Hey, I really don't need to know all about your issues with you and—"

"That's right," Tara interjected. "Because you're only concern is fuckin him behind my back, right?"

"Nothing happened, damn it!" Wendy shouted, losing her patience. "And this is _exactly _why I didn't want him to tell you. You don't _get _it and I knew you wouldn't even try—"

_"To get why the guy who claims he loves me would call me a whore?"_

"He's hurting, Tara," Wendy told her. "Me and Jax…._sex _is just how we deal. It's either that or doing everything we can to piss somebody else off so don't have to focus on our own fucked up feelings. It's a sad timeout, I know. It's pathetic. But it is what the Hell it is. That's why I used to pick fights with my mother's boyfriend even though I'm really pissed at her….or why I tried to fuck my best friend—my _only _real friend even though he has a girlfriend and I know he'll regret it later. And Jax? I have no idea why he always hurts _you _when he's….I mean, maybe it's because he knows there's no time out with you. Maybe he just—"

_"I didn't sign up for asshole-101, Wendy_," Tara snapped. "Jackson….is a _Prince_. Or at least he _was _before I came in and _ruined _his life because it wasn't how _I _wanted it. He's used to _everyone _in his life treating him like he can get away with _treating_ people any way he wants to and we're just supposed to take it. _I'm sick of it. _ I've been taking it and taking it and taking it. I have tried _so fuckin_ hard. I'm done trying. He's got you. And Gemma. And SAMCRO, the family I took him away from. He doesn't need me anymore. And I don't need to be where I'm not wanted...or appreciated."

"What the fuck, yo! Can you seriously stop being such a _chick_ about—Jesus Christ, Tara, of _course_ he wants—"

"He's not acting like it—"

"—He just doesn't know—"

"—_Bullshit!_ I don't care. _I'm done!" _Tara growled, turning her back to walk off.

"You sound just like Jax," Wendy said, smirking, "Back when we _used _to hook up and all he could talk about was you. All he ever _thought _about was you…"

"Am I supposed to be _flattered?" _Tara sneered, turning back to face her.

Wendy shrugged at her. "It's just the truth," she told her. "You can look at it whatever way you want to. We'd smoke up, we'd get drunk. And I'd bitch about Courtney….and yeah he'd talk shit about his mom, too but _somehow _I always ended up hearing his latest theory on why you stopped talking to him…why you _hate_ him…..until the next time when he's babbling about why he can't stand your stuck up ass either…or the day after that when he _misses _you...I loved the _'I miss Tara'_ moments….It didn't matter if I tried to convince him to talk to you or if I called him a pussy for not having the balls to do it. Either way he'd get pissed at himself for bringing you up and I'd complain about him always bringing the same shit up over and over and then he'd be pissed at _me_…we're pissed off at _each other._ I don't think I have to tell you how that ends up."

"Quit acting like we're girlfriends all of a sudden," Tara snapped. "I'm not _Ima_. I don't give a shit about your angry sex with Prince Charming."

_"And I don't give a shit about you, you fuckin spaz!"_ Wendy growled. "I don't _hate _you and I don't like you. I have no expectations of you at all. I _tolerate_ you. We've both been tolerating _each other_ before we even had a conversation. I tolerated you when you weren't even around because you're _always there_ even when he's trying to be there for me and I deal with it. I deal with the sulking and the bitchin and the getting mad as if _I'm_ the one who brought you up, I deal with the back and forth, this whole hate that I love you _bullshit_ you two have going because he's always there when I _need_ him. He's _always_ there and goddamn it, Tara…_he's trying._ What the fuck more do you want from him? He's a sixteen year old momma's boy. You really expect him to act like an adult about every damn thing?" Wendy pointed towards the clubhouse. "You just pulled the same shit he usually does! What _we _usually do. You seriously think you're any better? Stop banking on the nickname you gave him. He's not _really _Prince charming, Tara. _You're _not a Princess and this isn't a fuckin Disney fairytale. He's not gonna ride through the forest on a white horse chasing after you when you pull your disappearing act again either. If you walk away now he's gonna do exactly what he did before. Bitch to _me _about how fuckin you is probably the only way to finally get you out of his system."

Tara laughed.

It was a bitter sound that had Wendy's eyes widening, her mouth falling open when she realized what she'd said—what she hadn't _meant _to say.

"Exactly," Tara choked out. "Why do you think he's being such an asshole? After months…of _pretending _he…."

Tara couldn't even finish her sentence. It'd hurt too much.

"_Shit_," Wendy hissed, shaking her head. "Look I didn't mean it like that—he used to say that before…but it's different now. You're—"

_"Fucked."_ Tara's nostrils flared, tears rolling down the bridge of her nose. "He _fucked _me until he got me out of his system."

"Jesus, Tara, trust me—"

"NO," Tara bellowed, her body trembling as she lost the fight for control. "You're the same person," she accused. "You're just a female version. You want to be the best friend he likes to fuck and get high with? _Be my guest._ I'm not a fuckin doormat. He's not gonna step on and off me. He's not welcome. Y'all have fun using each other."

"You're being _selfish,_" Wendy spat when she turned her back to walk away again. Tara missed the headlights of the car riding into the lot behind her and Wendy wasn't paying them the slightest bit of attention, brown eyes locked with an equally angry green pair. "Using his father as an excuse didn't work and using what happened to that Sarah chick was bullshit, too. What's you're excuse for walking away this time?"

"I don't _need_ an excuse!"

"But you'll _find_ one!" Wendy growled. "People like you always do. _His father threatened me_…_his family's dangerous_…_he's one of them,"_ Wendy taunted, mocking her voice. "You're just as bad as my mother. Pretending you can love him when you know you can't. Not the _real _him. Not the one you've been chipping away at with all your big picture bullshit and your grand plans for _his _future. You're supposed to be his girlfriend, not his fuckin mother. And deep down Jax probably _knows_ you want to walk away. He knows you only want him if you can pull on his puppet strings. That's why he's always trying to give you an out just like he did before….when you bailed on him after his brother d—"

Wendy ate the rest of her words—Tara's fist forced them back down her throat when her knuckles met the startled blonde's mouth. Wendy drew her hand back, fist snapping forward to swing back but Tara was faster. Lumpy's training days had Tara ducking and kneeing Wendy in her stomach—gripping her shoulders hard and slamming her into the brick, clubhouse wall. _"You don't get to tell me how to feel,"_ Tara seethed through clenched teeth. "You don't get to tell me when it's okay to walk away. You don't get to tell me _anything_ because what I do with my life is none of your goddamn business!" Tara lifted a hand off her shoulder to point directly in her bleeding face. "It's _you," _she accused. "You and _Gemma._ You're what's wrong with him. Fuck a prince, he thinks he's KING! I have a drunk for a Daddy and a dead mommy. I used to sneak into my next door neighbors window when I needed a break from dishes being thrown at my head and being called a biker whore! That doesn't make me a _peasant_ any more than he thinks he's _royal._ I have bad shit in my life just like he does. I have days where I'm angry at the fuckin world just like him. I resent my father just like he does. I have feelings _just like he does_. And they deserve some fuckin consideration! _All the fuckin time!_ Not just when he wants to fuck me out of his system! And since you want to talk about sex so fuckin much here's a little advice for both of you. You're right. I tried it your way tonight. That's how I know that _I'm_ right. SEX ISN'T A FUCKIN PAIN KILLER! It's not even a quick fix. It doesn't work at all. Do you hear me?" Tara growled, gripping her neck—unconsciously squeezing while she shook her hard like a rag-doll. _"Huh?_ Do you get it? You understand me, you stupid, twisted, _pathetic little—_"

"TARA!" Diane yelled from behind her. Her aunt ran around the car, driver's side door still open wide—meeting the two girls struggling against the wall just as the crowd from the party filled out, more people walking over—Opie, Donna and Padraic pushing to the front. "What the Hell are you doing, Tara?" Diane screeched, yanking her off of Wendy. She turned the enraged teenager to face her, shaking her head. "What the Hell has gotten into you? Is this about Jax? Tara, you can't let him turn you into—"

_"Great,"_ Wendy choked out, swiping at the tears rolling down her face with her sleeve. "Another thing to blame on _him_. It's not like Tara Knowles has control over her own actions…or choices. She's even making choices for other people. You and Jax are the same, Tara. _Not me_. At least I own my shit. _All of it_."

"You enable him," Tara bit back, wiping at her own tear-stained face. "But then you're just as fucked up as he is so I can't even blame you. I don't know what the Hell Gemma's excuse is."

"Let's go, Tara," Diane urged, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Take care of him," Tara called out. Wendy froze, retreating back still facing her. "Keep being the thing that's keeping him together," Tara urged. "I'm done trying to be the glue. You're—"

Tires screeched.

Two loud thuds boomed in the night as two vans sped through the metal wire fencing, into the lot, one of them T-boning Diane's car. Diane grabbed Tara first, pulling Wendy down with them.

Everyone else followed their own instincts—most of them ducking and crawling before the vans' doors slid all the way open.

Machine gunfire tore through the early morning air—an outlaw's perfect remedy to intoxication. It was chaos from start to finish.

Opie rolling over Donna—crushing her under his weight as he fired off every round inside the gun in his grip. Miles squatted down behind the picnic table, diving to tend to Jason who was clutching his side. Chastity cried behind the double-padded, clubhouse door, body trembling, lip quivering—right arm shaking as she bravely stuck it out, beyond the concealment of the door, aiming the camcorder in her hand towards the men in ski-masks.

It when she dared peeking around the door that she saw it.

That she saw _them._

She saw Jax run out of the clubhouse.

"TARRAAA!" Jax screamed. His voice cut through all the noise like a knife, haunting her, constricting her chest as she watched Chibs and Padraic tackle him to the ground and drag him back inside, shooting all the while before he could reach her.

Diane wind-milling her arms—the butt of the gun in the man's hand knocking her hard in the face, sending her flying backwards.

A tall man in a top hat and long, oversized trenched coat seemed to materialize out of thin air, taking the men who were in his way out one by one—a sneak attack. Top hat stabbed and slashed, snatched guns and turned them on their owners.

But that was the first van.

The men from the second had time to catch on.

Fight or flight—draw the most blood or get what they came for.

They chose the latter.

Wendy and Diane reached for her—Wendy crumpling to the ground when someone kicked her hard in her side until she finally let go of Tara's waist. Diane was airborne, feet high off the ground as the man in the trench-coat pulled her backwards, away from the hailing bullets and all the men shooting, all the men hopping into the van.

His focus was singular—he was there to protect Diane Knowles at all costs.

But that meant stopping her from chasing after them.

That meant stopping her from fighting to save Tara.

That meant pulling her out of arms way while she watched her only niece get dragged and thrown into the back of the van backing up, peeling out of the Teller-Morrow lot.

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"Are you injured?" The man asked Diane. Forcing his way through the crowd of injured and those helping them, he walked Diane towards the picnic table in front of the open clubhouse doors, sitting her down on the bench—kneeling in front of her. "_Mrs. Kane, are you injured?"_

"They took her," Diane croaked, shaking her head in disbelief. "They took my….they….they…they took Gracie….Gracie's gone….I-I-I-I don't know _why _this keeps—_God, _how could…_who would"—_Diane's head jerked up suddenly, glancing towards the rumbling engines of motorcycles—two of them stopping short of the four formerly masked hispanic men, lying dead on the ground, around the empty van that was left behind. Her eyes skipped past Bobby Munson, landing on the tall, bearded man walking in stride with him. "YOU!" Diane screamed, jumping off the bench. She fought hard against the man restriaining her as he held her at bay—body-blocking as she lunged for the founding President of SAMCRO. "_You let this happen!" _Diane accused, her voice cracking. "You let this shit happen on your watch! _They took her! THEY TOOK TARA! THEY TOOK MY—"_

"Mrs. Kane, I need you to calm down," Clarence urged in a harsh whisper. "Mr. Kane is on his way but I need you stable before I leave. I _cannot _be here when the cops—"

"Who the Hell are you?" Diane barked, stepping away from him. When he reached for her again, someone else stepped in front of her.

Padraic, naturally.

The bullet wound tearing through his shoulder didn't stop him from tapping the gun in his hand against the side of his thigh. "Who are you?"

The tall, handsome man smirked, completely at ease as a crowd of angry, injured, mistrustful bikers surrounded him—forming an impenetrable circle around him. After a moment, he turned towards the unspoken leader of the group. Nodding his head at Johnathan Teller, he said simply, "_My name is Clarence Wiedman. _But until all of this shit is settled_….I suggest you consider me you're new best friend."_

And it was in that moment, Diane finally collapsed—banging her head on the corner of the table before anyone could lunge to catch her.

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The room was a mess—looked like Kansas after a Tornado hit. Dresser drawers open, clothes everywhere. CD's were crystalline shards that glittered the carpet. The trashcan at the door was overturned, crumpled food wrappers and empty bottles littered the floor. A large crack ran down the middle of the mirror mounted against the closet door. The mattress and pillows were flipped over, the single window in the room was shattered. The bookcase lining the wall looked even more out of place with the mahogany wood splintered where the shelves had caved in, books cascading to the floor like a dominoes—one fallen over another.

And the teenage boy responsible for carnage, the trashed, ransacked room was sitting on the floor, where the mattress was—absently flicking the burnt out cigarette in his hand above the pile of burning family pictures in the metal waste basket next to his foot, staring off into space when the fire alarm and the sprinkler system it triggered rained down above his head, drenching him.

He didn't hear his father enter the room, didn't see him either. And when John Teller sat down on the mattress next to him, Jax barely acknowledged his presence. He just sat there at first.

For twenty minutes they sat there together in silence. Then JT spoke. _"We're going to get her back, Son,"_ He promised, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "We'll find out whose responsible…..and I'll—"

_"You remember when I was twelve?" _

Jax turned towards him, tears welling up in the blue eyes that finally met his father's gaze. "That was when you and Piney and the guys took me and Ope up to the cabin…taught us how to use a gun."

JT nodded, smiling despite himself. "You were a near-perfect shot," he commented. "Just like your Old man."

"You told me that every time your finger was on the trigger….all you're thinking about is your family," Jax recited, "protecting the one you were given and the one you chose..._which one am I, Dad? _Gemma? Which one were me and Tommy…and your _wife? _Are we the family you were given? Or the one you chose? Because the way I see it, _burdens _are given right? They're like….like _put upon_….like _family…._the people you don't really want to deal with but you feel like you have to because that's what it _means _to be a man. You wouldn't _choose _the family that was a burden to you, right? Which one am I? Did you choose me or was I just _given _to you? Or what about your….your _daughter…._Is _she _the chosen one instead? Her and that Irish gash you left me and—"

"I never left _you," _JT interrupted. "I would _never _leave you, Jackson. Not as long as I can help it."

Jax smiled. "But you _couldn't_ help it, could you?" He accused, sniffling. "You had to see if you could find something better….a way to replace—"

"_Jackson—"_

"It's cool, JT," Jax told him, smirking through his tears. He shrugged his shoulders. "Turns out being a selfish _whore _runs in the family….._I fucked up….._Tara's gone and she thinks I don't give a shit about her."

_She might die thinking that._

_Believing it._

_"John," _Gemma called from the door, glancing up and down—at the soaking wet room and the sprinklers that had finally shut off. "Everybody's waiting for you at the table," announced, walking inside. Her heels squished against the drenched carpet, she sat down on the other side of her son, running her fingers through his wet hair, brushing it back—frowning at the defeated expression marring his handsome features. "Everything's going to be okay, Baby."

Jax knocked her hands away from him, jumping up from the mattress—spinning to glare at the woman who raised him. "NO, IT'S NOT!" He yelled. "This shit is _your _fault! Tara told me not to choose a side and you know what? I couldn't even if I wanted to because I don't which one of you is _worse," _Jax barked, glowering at both his parents. "And instead of leaning on the one person that has NEVER fucked me over I shut her out….I run her off because I'm scared shitless that she'll be the next one to do what you did. To do what you did to _each other. _There's no real loyalty between men and women. Not in _this _clubhouse. You're supposed to lead by example and look what the fuck you do to each other!"

"Jackson—"

"ALL OF THIS SHIT IS ON YOU!" Jax bellowed. "Tara is…..she's….she didn't ask for _any _of this shit….she wanted me to stay as far away from…..and I chewed her fuckin head off…and now she's….she's _gone…_someone took her and you're into so much shit you probably don't even know where to look first. This is on _you."_

Gemma reached for her son, gripping his wrist tightly until he finally allowed her to pull him back down next to her, his head resting against her chest as she hugged him. "_What if we can't get her back?" _Jax sobbed. "Tara's perfect, Ma. Why the fuck would anybody want to hurt her? Why do _I _keep doing it? Why'd you betray my father? Why'd he—_Jesus Christ. _Maybe Tommy was better off—"

Gemma flinched back, the hand that had been in his hair, slapping him hard across the face. "Don't you _ever _say that shit again, you hear me? I don't care how much you're hurting. Thomas is your brother. And no matter what you'll _always _be his _big_ brother."

Jax's answering chuckle was all bitter, no sweetener. "And now I get to be a big brother again," he said, looking at his father as he stood up once more, _"right JT?"_

Then he walked away from them both, slamming the door shut behind him.

Gemma glared at the man sitting on the other end of mattress, next to her. "This shit is on _you, _John," Gemma declared, nostrils flaring. "Our sixteen year old son is a fuckin head-case because you couldn't remember to use a fuckin rubber."

"No, Gem," JT replied, shaking his head once. "This shit is on _Us." _ Then he stood up, smoothing out the wrinkle in the SONS T-shirt underneath his Kutte. "Head over to the station," he demanded quietly. "Your buddy Unser's not answering his goddamn phone. Find out what's up on his end. Then go find your _boyfriend _and tell him to get his ass back here."

Gemma smirked, crossing her arms. "I haven't see Clay since he pointed a_ gun_ at our son," she told him, "Doc cleared him to go home two days ago though, right? _You sure you didn't kill him?"_

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Gregory Johnson peeked through the blinds out onto the cabin porch, lowering the gun in his hand to his side seconds later. Twisting the top and bottom locks on the front door off, there was no warning when the door was forced open, knocking him hard on his ass.

Clay stormed into the house, kicking the front door shut behind him—fist clenched at his sides as he paced the living room, his whole body quaking with anger. Ice-blue eyes bouncing off of the startled faces around him, he couldn't decide whose ass he wanted to kick first.

"ARE YOU ASSHOLES OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN MINDS?!" Clay Morrow bellowed.

"Keep it down, Boss," Frankie Diamonds urged, pointing down a finger down towards the floor. "I thought you didn't want to—"

Clay turned his backs to them, leaning his forehead against the wall—trying with everything he had to keep his temper in check. "I told you idiots to snatch Jax and the girl," he hissed quietly through his teeth. "JAX _and _the little bitch! Not one or the other! And definitely not just HER alone!…..All you had to do was wait for them to ride off together," he grumbled, finally turning around to face them. "I didn't give you free reign to SHOOT UP MY FUCKIN CLUBHOUSE!"

"This shit ain't on us, brutha," Greg the Peg said, adjusting his prosthetic foot. "It was that fuckin wetback you got us working with. We barely got the _girl_ out of there. Almost had Jax….ran straight for her, too. But Chibs and his nephew got to him first. Shit went left. And now half Hector's crew is dead."

"Just be glad none of you asshole took one in the chest," Clay seethed. "Would have fucked everything. Where the Hell is that fuckin Spic?"

"Salazar and his Old lady are downstairs…..thought she might be lonely in the basement by herself...said he'd be _keeping her company _until you honor your end of the deal._"_

"She ain't much company for _me _right now,_ Cabron_," Hector Salazar commented, walking into the room. "Whatever you gave her must have been pretty strong. She's out cold."

"You're about to right there with her," Clay threatened, charging towards him. "You could have fucked this whole thing up for BOTH of us!"

Hector smirked. "I ain't fuck shit up for me, Mano. I already got _half_ of what I wanted," he boasted. "And once the other half realizes I got his sweetheart…_el Novio…._little Jax is gonna come running."

"Not if I don't get my fuckin money he won't," Clay warned, poking him hard in the chest. "You make _my_ demands. The club meets them. I get my cash, you settle your debt with JT. _In that order, _you hear me _Vato?"_

_I can't wait to kill all of you stupid fuckin pricks._

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"ONE WAYYYY OR _A-NUTTTHHHER_! I'M GONNA GET YA, I'LL GET YA, I'LL GET YA, GET YA, GET YA, ONE WAY OR A-NUTHHERRR I'M GONNA GET YA, I'LL GET YA…ONE _WAYYYYYY!"_

"YEAH!" Logan Echols cheered, clapping hard for the fun-sized blonde playfully bowing on stage. "That's my girl!"

_"Whoo-hoo!"_ Wallace Fennel joined in, smiling at the eighteen year old boy sitting across from him. "My sista from another mista!"

"Dude, seriously?" Logan teased, smirking.

"Tell 'em, V," Wallace said, addressing the blonde scooting in on Logan's side of the booth. Veronica Mars' blue eyes flitted back and forth between her best friend and boyfriend.

"Tell who what?"

"Tell your boy-toy here—"

"That you're my brutha from another mutha?" Veronica teased, making it clear she wasn't lost after all. "_Sho ya right."_

Wallace shook his head. "Alright, that's where I draw the line. _Stop."_

The three high school senior's laughed together, all eyes falling on the phone vibrating in the center of the table.

"Someone's been blowing up your phone all night!" Wallace commented, watching as she checked the I.D. "Who the Hell is _cake mix? _And why the Hell are all your contacts in code with all these weird ass nicknames?"

Logan rolled his eyes, telling him, "It's Duncan."

"_HO-LA!" _Veronica answered, holding the phone to her ear. "Hey, Duncan! How's Diane? Tell her I... ...No, my dad's actually out of the town for the week. Bounty hunting case. Why? Clarence need another assist with—_what?"_

_"Duncan?"_ Wallace repeated, bushy eyebrows scrunching together even tighter.

"Duncan Hines," Logan elaborated, shrugging.

"I'm surprised you even know what that is Mr. _Custom catering_," Wallace goaded.

_"Oh my God." _Both boys looked over at the blonde clutching the phone against her ear like a vice. "Of course…No, trust me! I'll be there soon as I can…alright….bye."

"What's going on, Babe?" Logan asked her.

Wallace didn't have to.

Reading her expression was more than enough.

Wallace rolled his eyes, sighing. "We just couldn't enjoy our last day off without breaking the law, _could we?"_

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_**SEVERAL HOURS LATER...**_

"Hey, Donald," Corbin Jenner chimed, waving his coworkers over. "Dave! Ant! Get over here! You gotta see this shit!"

Together the three men trekked through the uprooted weeds and mountains of dirt, stopping short of the pit in the construction site where he stood.

"_Holy shit," _Corbin hissed, shaking his head. The four men stare at the human remains peeking out of the blue tarp buried in the dirt, eyes periodically bouncing to the Welcome to Charming sign at the end of the road.

"The name says it all, huh?" Donald Morgan mused, pulling a cellphone from the pocket of his jacket.

"Who the Hell you calling?" Corbin asked.

"The fuck you think, Stupid?" Donald replied. "_Hello, yeah…this is Donnie with water and power_…..yeah, the guys and I are out here on highway fourty-four….yeah, we just found what looks like human remains buried where we're supposed to lay the new pipes…."

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It was a nightmare—just a really bad dream.

That was what Diane Knowles tried to convince herself of when she first woke up to the throbbing pain shooting through her temple. And when she opened her eyes, the excitement in her husband's smile had almost sold her on the hopeless notion.

"Thank God you're okay," Duncan crooned, brushing her hair back. "How are you feeling, Honey?"

_"Tara,"_ Diane croaked, looking back and forth between Duncan and the ashen-faced man sitting on the couch behind him—her brother.

Duncan's smile vanished, a deep frown taking its place. "We're going to get her back, Dee," he vowed. "Everything is going to be fine. I promise."

Diane nodded, choosing not to voice the question in her mind. The smile on his face hadn't been forced. It was genuine. Her husband was genuinely happy and she couldn't wrap her around him looking so joyous over her waking up from mild concussion. All three of them looked towards the door to her private hospital suite as it clicked open. "Well, well, well," the pretty doctor chanted, heels clacking against the linoleum as she swept towards them. "Looks like Sleep Beauty's finally awake."

Duncan stood up, waving both hands towards the gorgeous redhead with a smile that nearly rivaled his own ear-to-ear grin. "Baby, this is Doctor Addison Montgomery."

Diane blinked twice, eyebrows dipping to the center of her forehead as she gaped at him, ignoring the hand Dr. Montgomery held out to her. "The Baby doctor?"

Addison chuckled, awkwardly running her rejected hand through her long, wavy hair. "Double-board certified neonatal surgeon if you want to be fancy," she half-joked. "I am _also_—"

"What is she doing here?" Diane barked. "You think you can distract me with another fertility treatment while my…._while my NIECE—"_

Addison walked over, looking up towards the beeping monitor next to her bed, checking her vitals. "I don't see many miracles patients, Mrs. Kane," she commented. "But—"

"The only miracle I want right now is Gra—"

"I know," Duncan urged, clasping her hand in his. "I _know_, Baby but you've gotta try your best to stay calm. Stress isn't good for the baby."

Diane flinched, sitting up straighter, eyes involuntarily flitting down towards her stomach. "I can't _have_ kids."

Addison chuckled, flipping the chart in her hand open. "Yes, Mrs. Kane….well...apparently you can. And you _are. _Congratulations."

"I can't," Diane stammered, glancing towards the man sitting by the window, absently staring out of it. "I can't _be _pregnant right now. I h-h-have to….I need to…to….."

"Dee it's going to be okay," Duncan assured, squeezing her hand.

Her brother wouldn't be.

Diane gently slid her hand out of Duncan's—turning away from her baffled husband to address the equally confused redhead standing at the foot of her bed. "_How soon can I schedule an abortion?" _she asked finally.

It was a question she'd never thought she'd utter again.

She'd been told years ago that she'd never have a reason to.

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*****ADVISORY: _The next chapter will (likely) contain fairly graphic violent &amp; sexual themes. [also flashbacks]_**

**P.S: I may* be guilty of dancing to "Boogie Shoes" when no one's looking (i.e when I'm cleaning the house) Sue me. **

**|REVIEW|**


	81. Chapter 72: Part I

**DISCLAIMER: **Graphic/Violent situations &amp; Adult Themes. _Also Flashbacks. _

**[***_****** _flashback **#2** marked with three stars is the most graphic for those who would want to skip. This **CH **is Diane's story aka the Past of those who effect **J&amp;T**'s Present so... _yes _it's that.**]**

Chapter 72: **Part I**

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

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_Who's got a shoulder when I need to cry?_

_I feel restless and I don't know why_

_Cry for help, but still feel alone_

_Like a motherless child a long way from home_

_Lord I'm lost I can't find my way_

_I'm dealing with the struggles in my day to day_

_My soul is weak and I wanna be strong_

_I try to run away but I've been running too long_

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**_SEVEN YEARS AGO_**_…._

_What the fuck had they been fighting about?_

_In that moment Diane Knowles couldn't remember. Somehow every angry word, every temper-fueled complaint and accusation fled her mind as swiftly as he'd hiked her skirt up and tore her panties off, as he'd slammed her back against the wall of his dorm room. Or was it someone else's? She couldn't tell. Her eyes were busy rolling up towards the ceiling, veering closer to the back of her head with every rough, passionate stroke he gave her. The same hand responsible for the red imprint marking his left cheek was fisted in his hair, the legs she kicked out at him when he dragged her from the lounge were curved around his waist—folded tight, pulling him in closer._

_ Every time it was like the final ride—heated and all-consuming._

_But it was merely kindling to the fire that started it in the first place._

_"Shittee," Padraic Telford had hissed against her neck. He'd sucked kisses along the skin of her collarbone, relishing in every post-coital moan breathed past her lips as he slowly pulled out of her, setting her down on her own two feet. Framing her sweat-sheened face in his hands, his thumb brushed back the hair sticking to her forehead. "I'm gonna miss you so fuckin much, Di," he'd told her._

_And with just the mere, heartfelt admission they'd gotten right back where they'd started._

_Diane pushed him away then, walking around him to pick her panties off the dorm room floor. Nope. Definitely wasn't his room. "I still don't get why _you _have to go," she'd complained. "He's already got Tig, Happy and Bobby. If they need a prospect so fuckin bad why don't they put Kozik to work for a change?"_

_"Kozy's going through some shit," Padraic explained to her for the millionth time. "Clay's giving him some time. _Come on, Di. _You know it won't always be like this. But half the club is inside right now. JT and Piney can only do but so much from Stockton. And Uncle's in Belfast seeing about Fi and Carrie." _

_"Something's not right about this, Pat," Diane had mused, finally turning around the face him. "Since when do you they give prospects the kind of responsibility he's giv—_Don't look at me like that! _I'm not saying you can't handle it, Baby. I'm saying I don't….look, I don't trust him, okay?"_

_Clay._

_Lately Clay Morrow had been at the root of every problem in their relationship, the underlying issue of every argument they had. Diane wouldn't let up. And Padraic insisted she was overreacting. He thought he could pacify her by reminding her that JT and Piney weren't only doing short time and they'd be out in a few months but it wasn't working._

"The guys are leaving," _Gemma announced from the door. Diane looked up from the dirty dish in her hand, the one she'd neglected to scrub once the entire time she'd stood there letting her mind run wild with all the possible reasons Clay thought it was a good idea to send an eager eighteen year old prospect off on his own and where in the Hell he was going. "What's wrong, Baby?"_

_Diane sat the dish in the sink, turning as Gemma approached her, leaning against the counter next to her—imploring her to purge whatever was on her mind the way she usually did. But things were different with the matriarch these days. _

_And somehow Diane knew that it wasn't in her best interest to let JT's Old Lady know she had a problem with her husband's choice of "acting President" while he was locked up. _

_"Nothing," Diane lied, after a brief moment of silence. Smiling she nodded her head towards the empty Dawn dishwashing liquid bottle. "I should probably head over to Monroe's. Pick up some stuff. Restock all the kitchen shit." Wiping her hands dry on the dishtowel, she tossed it on the counter. "Anything you need that you can think of off the top of your head?" she asked Gemma. "I should probably head out now so maybe Pat will have time to take me to my car."_

"Hey." _Diane looked up just in time to catch the keys Gemma tossed in her direction. "Take mine. There's more room in the trunk."_

_Diane's eyebrows rose. "You're letting me taking your precious car for a ride?"_

_Gemma smirked. "Let me even see a _scratch…_and that's your ass," she warned. "Take care of my baby."_

_Diane grinned at her, pulling the Queen of bikers into a warm hug, kissing her cheek. "Thank you," she said, quickly rushing off before Gemma could change her mind._

* * *

_See the stone set in your eyes_

_See the thorn twist in your side_

_I wait for you..._

_Sleight of hand and twist of fate_

_On a bed of nails she makes me wait_

_And I wait without you..._

_Diane thrummed her fingers against the steering wheel, absently humming along with the rock tune blaring through the speakers of the car. Stopping at the red light, something she'd glimpsed while casually looking into the rearview mirror caught her eye. Adjusting it to get a better look, she immediately turned her head, staring directly at the man pulling his swerving car to a halt, yanking his seatbelt off, forcing the driver's seat all the way back—leaning over it to reach for the baby in the backseat. Mere seconds later, the frantic father leapt from the car, swinging the door open to slide into the backseat. That was when she ignored the light turning green to get out and help him._

_When she did she regretted it._

_She regretted it the second she glimpsed the porcelain doll strapped into the car seat. And somehow she knew she'd spend the rest of her life regretting it during the blood-curdling seconds she spent fighting the chloroform-soaked towel he crushed against her face—before everything went black. _

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**PRESENT DAY**

_"Wake her up," _Tara heard him whisper harshly. Seconds later, water drenched her face and hair, sliding down her chest, soaking her torn shirt. "Ahhh….here we go," the Hispanic man said, clapping his hands together, smiling leeringly at her. "It's show time, _Blanca_," he told her, tossing a prepaid cell phone into her lap. Looking down as the cheap electronic slid down her knees to the floor, Hector Salazar nodded in acknowledgment of his own error.

He couldn't expect her to catch the phone with her hands and legs bound to the chair.

The short, dark-haired woman standing next to him leaned down towards her—her brown eyes ice-cold as she tore the duct-tape from Tara's mouth. Luisa Salazar seemed to match Tara's groan of pain with one of her own, rubbing at her shoulder—the source of her pain evident in the athletic bandaging wrapped tightly around her arm from shoulder to elbow.

"Leave her," Luisa demanded, knocking her husband's hands away when he reached for to free her hand. "You really want to cut this bitch loose after what she did to Kique and Ernesto? Hold that shit to her ear," she advised, nodding at the fallen phone.

"You've got a very important phone call to make," Hector said, picking the phone up. "I got some demands that need to be met."

"Sounds like a personal problem," Tara sneered, glaring up at them both.

Hector smirked, flipping the cell phone open. "We need you to give your boyfriend a call," he said, looking down at the keys. "You know his number, yes?"

"Why am I here?" Tara asked, eyes darting between the two of them. "And what the Hell do you want with—"

"Aye, _we _ask the questions," Luisa warned her, pointing in her face. "_You _answer them. You hear me, bitch?"

"I don't have a boyfriend," Tara lied, glaring up at the short-tempered woman.

"_Ex-boyfriend_ then," Hector replied. "_Mira,_ I really don't give a shit who he is to you. I just need his number."

Tara cocked her head to one side, ignoring the cramp in her neck. "Who's number?"

Luisa drew her hand back, smacking Tara so hard she just tasted blood.

"My Old lady," Hector mused, chuckling lightly. "She doesn't have patience like I do, Mami. Why don't you do yourself a favor and cooperate? All goes well, you're Old man'll be tucking you in, reading your bedtime story _manana_, OK?"

"My Old man's a mean drunk," Tara barked, spitting blood on the cold, dusty concrete floor. "He probably doesn't even know I'm gone..._doesn't give a shit either._"

"But I'm sure JT's son does," Hector retorted, leaning down towards her, smirking when she turned away from his touch against her swelling cheek. "He'll be happy to hear from you, you know. I think my crew 'bout broke his heart."

"I don't remember his number," Tara lied, glaring at the basement floor.

Nails dug into her skin, fingers gripping her face hard—until she was staring directly into Luisa Salazar's cold, dead eyes again. "Hector's right," she hissed. "I don't have the patience for this shit. So I'm gonna put it to you in a way you can understand. The men who took you? The men working with us? _Some of them are members of John Teller's MC…._and he has _no _idea. You're just the bait…but if we have to? We'll kill you and the _Teller_ kid will be the next to get _snatched…._but you see...I got a feeling he'll be even harder to break than you. And you remember what I said about my patience, don't you? That means we'll have to move on to the other heir of SAMCRO...your next-door neighbor….or _maybe_ we'll take a trip to St. Redneck's….see how that Teller-Morrow mechanic's son is doing. What do you think of that, _puta_?"

* * *

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**_*** SEVEN YEARS AGO…._**

_Her hands were bound above her head, legs dangling—feet kicking against the fence at her back, her futile screams of protest muffled by the duct tape covering her face from one ear to the other. _

_It was dark—the warehouse and the black hole threatening to swallow her up, the horrible nightmare she couldn't seem to wake up from, the ultimate testament of no good deed going unpunished. Dried blood matted her scalp at the crown of her head, the corners of her nose—the steady flow of angry, desperate tears blurring her vision. The acrid smell of dirt and perspiration filled her nostrils as the three men circled her. She squeezed her eyes shut tight but it didn't help. She couldn't Unsee the look of pleasure, the anticipation in their eyes. Closing her eyes couldn't curb her nausea—it didn't stop the twisting in her gut every time she felt a hand on her breast, caressing her thighs and hips, the hooked nose swiping across the cold-sweat leaking from the pores of her neck, the fingers lightly tracing circles around the Crow tattooed across her chest. _

_His name. The name of the man who was always miles away when she needed him._

_And she'd never needed him more than now._

"I warned you this would happen," _Ethan Zobelle barked into the prepaid cellphone pressed to his ear. Diane's eyes snapped open in time to see him wave off the three groping men beside her, to watch him pace back and forth. "….yes….she was indeed lucky tonight, but alas the same can't be said for her young daughter here." Ethan glanced towards her, the heels of his Gator shoes clacking against the cement. Slowly, he pulled the tape off of her mouth, tossing it aside. Then he pressed the phone to Diane's ear. "Say hi, sweetheart," he directed._

_"_Padraic?" _Diane croaked. "Give them what they want," she begged, not waiting for a response. "Whatever it is, Baby _please. _They're gonna…they're gonna," Diane gritted her teeth, refusing to let the rampant sobs wracking through her body from constricting her voice, "_Please, _give them what they want. Clay will understand. He'll—"_

_"I'm sorry, Darlin," Clay Morrow grunted out into the phone. The dismissive tone of his voice would have been enough to cause her to drop the phone had she been able to hold it herself. "But I'm going to need _Padraic _to understand."_

_Diane gasped. "What?"_

_Zobelle chose that moment to take the phone back. "It's your move, Morrow," he declared. "I _know _you're responsible for everything that went down two days ago. Return the drugs…._all _of the cash—"_

"And we want the entire shipment of guns he plans on selling to those blue-gum motherfuckers! NO MORE SELLING TO NIGGERS AND WETBACKS!"_ growled the skinhead male flexing the muscles in his bare arms, absently rubbing at the "I kill Niggers" forming a necklace of hate directly beneath his collarbone. _

_"My associate Weston," Zobelle reiterated, pressing a button to place the call on speakerphone, "He also has a few unnegotiable req—"_

"Fuck your requests," _Clay barked through the phone. "SAMCRO doesn't negotiate with terrorists. Especially any of you Nazi pricks. Just be glad it wasn't Gemma Teller your men picked up on that road, because then I would have to kill every one of you. Consider this a free pass. It's the only you're gonna get. The girl you grabbed isn't the daughter of a SON. She's just and Old lady and she's not _mine."

"You son of a Bitch!" _Diane screeched, her legs thrashing, elbows clanging against the fence as she fought to no avail to free herself._

_"I have a feeling you're gonna regret this Clarence Morrow." Zobelle nodded his head once at the three men standing around her, picking a cigar out of a case he'd pulled from inside his suit-jacket. The three men were closing in on her then, menacing shadows obscuring her view of the leader of the pack._

_Diane heard his gruff chuckle—it seemed to echo off the warehouse walls as Clay mumbled a simple,_ "Yeah..._Heil Hitler to you too, _Whitey."

_The line went dead then._

_Diane didn't want to believe it._

"No," _Diane half-whispered, shaking her head as she watched Ethan Zobelle flipped the phone in his hand shut. "Oh God….No, please, no," Dian moaned. Zobelle squeezed the cigar between the cutter in his hand, the butt end of it falling to the floor the same time her shirt and bra were ripped, torn from her body. "NO!" Diane cried, kicking out at them. "_Get...off...me! _CLAYYYYY!"_ _Two of the men grabbed each of her legs, yanking them apart—Weston tore at the zipper and buttons of her jeans._

_ Ethan Zobelle simply stood there, puffing on the premier cigar in his hand—plotting his next attack even through the creaks of the fence, and the teeth-rattling thud before the crying finally stopped._

* * *

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**PRESENT DAY**

"Get the fuck off me!" Ima shrieked. "God gave me two legs just like you. I know how to fuckin walk!" Wendy yanked the clubhouse entrance door open, shoving her bleach-blonde companion inside. Ima jerked out of the tight grip on her arm, spinning around only to be greeted with a slap.

_"What the fuck is she doing here?"_ Donna barked, climbing off of Opie's lap. The revolving kitchen doors behind the lounge bar flapped behind Gemma as she appeared, one hand on her hip, the other clutching a spatula.

No one in the lounge noticed.

Jax barely acknowledged anyone, blue-eyes staring blankly at a random spot on the wall, tipping back the whiskey bottle in his hand, pulling the rim of the bottle from his lips only long enough to take a lung-scorching pull of the cigarette caught between his fingers.

"Jax," Wendy called, pushing Ima towards the group of Jax, Donna, Opie and the other prospects. When he finally glanced towards her, Wendy gave Ima's shoulder another rough push. "_Tell him," _the angry blonde demanded.

All eyes were on Imalya Lee.

Ima rolled her eyes, blowing out an exaggerated breath as she ran her long, magenta fingernails through the ends of her ponytail. "I'm only telling Jax, _alright?" _She asked, cocking an eyebrow. She waved her hands around the room for emphasis when she added, "Because I really don't need all this shit with the club and—"

"Ima I swear to fuckin God—"

_"What does she have to tell me?"_

Ima sighed, eyes studying the imaginary dirt underneath her nails when she gushed, "A couple weeks ago me and Maisey ran into some Mexican banger guys when….when…._Okay, first of all, Maize started the _whole _thing so don't even_ try_ to put any of this shit on me. I don't even know why _I'm _here. But then again I _do _know," _Ima mused, glaring at the blonde standing behind her. "I'm here because you're backstabbing bitch and apparently I can't tell you _shit _anymore without it getting back to Prince Teller. I mean seriously, what the _fuck _Wendy. Did you have to tell him about Maize and the whole calling her Tara's—"

"This isn't a fuckin joke, Ima," Wendy snapped. "Tara's _missing."_

"This is about Tara?" Jax and Opie asked at the same time, both standing up from the couch.

Wendy rolled her eyes. "Why the Hell else would I bring her here?"

_"Threesome,"_ Donna commented, sneering at her, glaring over at Jax. "Maybe Jax decided he wanted you both at the same—"

"Not now, Donna," Wendy urged.

No one even saw him move.

Except his target of course.

_"Jax,"_ Ima exclaimed, but her back was already against the wall, Jax's hand around her neck.

Jax spoke through clenched teeth, fire in his eyes—murder in his heart. "_You telling me you have something to do with Tara—"_

_"NO!"_ Ima choked out, shaking her head fast._ "I'm just saying she's probably missing because of you"—_Ima wheezed through the tightening grip around her throat. It lasted only a second before Opie pulled him off her, knocking him aside.

"What the fuck did you do?" Opie bellowed, glowering at her. The clenched hands at his sides looked just as tempted to reach for her throat.

"This Spanish dude," Ima stammered, her eyes widening. "I think he said his name was Sazon or some shit. He said Jax did some real fucked up shit to his cousin and he was looking to settle the score, okay? I didn't_ tell_ him to go after Tara. _Maize did._ He wanted to know a way to hurt you and she told him who to fuck with that would piss you off. But it's not like we thought he was _serious!_ Not like _kidnapping _her serious. He's like our age. How the fuck was I supposed to know—I mean how do you even know this has anything to do—"

"You need to tell the Club _every—"_

"The Hell I am!" Ima shrieked shaking her head at the half-giant teenager towering over her, reaching for her arm to drag her towards the sealed chapel doors. She slid around him, sauntering towards the purse Wendy knocked off her arm when she first walked in. "I said everything I plan on saying. The only reason I even came is to make sure Maize can't—"

The rest of Ima's words were muffled against the frame of the pool table when Donna grabbed her by her ponytail, wrapped the stringy blonde locks around her hand and shoved Ima's face hard against it three times before Opie finally pulled her back. "You should be more concerned with what _you _can't do, Bitch," Donna growled, glaring at the teenage girl with blood leaking from her face. "Like breathe in and out without it hurting. And you had better _pray _nothing happened to Tara because of _you _because if this shit turns out to be _your _fault? Maize and everybody else is really gonna fuckin enjoy watching Jax _and _Opie go outlaw on your ass," Donna seethed. "_Stupid whore."_

"Just get out," Opie barked—the three words equally demanding as they were threatening. Donna turned from the blonde girl making a beeline for the exit, fixing her glare on one of the other blondes still standing in the lounge with them.

"You can go with her," Donna sneered at Wendy.

"Donna—"

"Don't _Donna _me, Opie!" Donna snapped. "She's the reason Tara was running off in the first place!"

"No," Opie seethed, glaring at the _blue-eyed_ blonde behind her. "_She _isn't."

"You two can fight all you want once _Tara's _back here to play referee," Wendy hedged, shaking her head at them. "I did _not _sign up for this shit!"

"Just like Tara didn't sign up to share her boyfriend with a—"

"I swear to _God, _Tinkerbell, you're about to get your wings _clipped_," Wendy snapped, stepped towards her. "I don't give a shit what you think about what happened between _us!_ I'm entitled to fuck up just like _you _did with that football jock Marcus-something. Remember him, Donna? I'm not the one who almost cheated anyway. _ Jax _is. But he didn't even do it. And anything he_ did_ wasn't done to you so mind your damn business for once. And just so we're clear? _JAX _was my friend before you _or _Tara and I never made any promises to either one of you so everybody needs to stop trying to shove _me _into a fuckin wall! Get over it! That's not even what's important right now!"

"She's right," Opie echoed, nodding stiffly before turning on his heel.

Jax was in silent agreement with the two of them, already several paces ahead, reaching to pull the clubhouse Chapel doors open.

And Gemma Teller, who'd been listening to everything from inside the kitchen, walking from behind the bar, following closely behind them.

* * *

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**_SEVEN YEARS AGO…._**

_Diane hung limply, the dried blood crusting between her lips sealing her mouth. The itch of withered tears staining her swollen cheeks, dark rings painting circles around her eyes, what seemed like years-worth of screaming burning her throat. _"Hey,"_ Weston hissed, tapping his hands against her face. "Hey!" Diane opened the one eye that wasn't swollen shut to meet his soulless, unapologetic gaze. "You know this wasn't personal right?"_

_The heartless man didn't bother waiting for the response that would never come. He walked off, adjusting the belt looped into his jeans, leaving the other two men behind—sending in the help waiting just outside the warehouse doors smoking. _

_Dewey Crowe approached them slowly, flickering the cigarette in his hand—accidentally dropping it to the ground the second he caught sight of her. "Holy fuckin shit," Dewey exclaimed, dark-brown eyes ballooning. "You assholes are anim—what the FUCK man?!"_

_The two men chuckled. "You know what I'm thinking?" Arnold Whalen asked his shorter, stockier companion. "I'm thinkin Dewey here being a lookout ain't gonna cut it. He _knows_ this bitch. Look how he's staring at her. Little pussy looks like he wants to_ cry...I hear..._He used to be best buds with her boyfriend."_

_"He's not deep enough," Johnny Yates agreed, nodding—leering at the half-conscious eighteen year old girl hanging from the fence beside them._

_"Bullshit," Dewie replied, lifting his wife-beater to reveal the swastika tattooed in the center of his chest. "I'm plenty fuckin deep, assholes!"_

_"You weren't balls deep in _that," _Arnold countered. "Your loss, too. She was—"_

_"Aww, I don't want to hear that shit, man!" Dewey twisted his mouth like he'd swallowed a lemon, squeezing his eyes shut. "You two motherfuckers need help!" When he opened his eyes back up, they ballooned at the sight of the gun being held out to him. "The fuck you giving me that for?"_

_"If Clay Morrow gave a shit about her they would have made the trade. Lived to fight another day," Arnold mused, scratching his neck. "They _didn't. _And I can't afford another rape charge. Shoot her and dump her body in that shitty Mayan bar in Lodi. If SAMCRO's _real _President has a change heart we're covered."_

_"Consider it your initiation," Johnny commented, smirking._

_"Fuck you," Dewey snapped, glaring at the fellow Aryan-hopeful. "I ain't got shit to prove to either one of ya!"_

"Do it," _Diane croaked. All three heads quickly turned towards her as she struggled to lift her own. _"Please…._no more…._just….._just kill me…please…I….I-I-I don't…..please...no more…_Please…."

"Well, would you look at that..." _Arnold clapped Dewey on the shoulder as Johnny forced the gun he'd held out to him into his hand. "You don't even have to feel guilty about your first kill. _She wants it, bad._ Go on, put sweet-meat outta her misery."_

_"_Please," _Diane begged, tears she didn't know she had left steadily streaming through the cracks of her tightly shut eyes when Dewey aimed the gun at her with trembling fingers._

_"Get on with it," Arnold urged._

_Dewey looked back and forth between the two men challenging him and the mangled, battered young woman. It was far from chivalrous, not even so much an attempt at kindness as it was self-preservation. When he looked at Diane Knowles all he could see was the man he was once friends with, the man who loved her enough to hang him by his wrists and torture him beyond any horror the two men waiting for him to pull the trigger ever could._

_He pulled the trigger anyway._

_Four times._

_Two in each of their chest and in their heads just for good measure._

_Scampering towards her, Dewey glanced nervously over his shoulder, barely catching her deadweight when Diane collapsed as soon as he cut the rope tied around her wrists loose. "I_ swear _I didn't know what they had planned," the anxious young man insisted. "And you…Christ, you gotta make sure Pat knows this shit wuddn't on me….I ain't for this kinna blowback...Hell, look it wuddn't never s'pose to be you anyhow...They were gunning for Gemma Teller."_

* * *

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**PRESENT DAY**

It was a miracle Clay Morrow was able to push through it.

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut, the pungent smell of mistrust saturating it—marinating within the room the longer it took for him to finally fill the silence. His own club members didn't trust him anymore. The President's patch on his chest and the gavel were no more than souvenirs. But Edie Hayes' rude awakening couldn't have come sooner.

Now he had a plan.

"Speaking on behalf of every Redwood member sitting at this table," Clay said, addressing the new faces. "We're glad to have you here boys. Especially in a time of crisis. This is when the true colors of brotherhood bleed th—"

"Save the sermon," Piney snapped, scowling at the smiling faces of the Nomads nodding in support of his bullshit speech. "We got a missing teenage girl to deal with. I don't give a shit about the _why _either. I've watched that little girl grow up since her and Opie were three years old. We _all _did. And now she's in danger because of _our _shit. And I know I can speak for all the _parents _sitting at this table," Piney emphasized, shooting a meaningful glance at JT, "When I say theirs way to fuckin much of that going on! Break-ins and shoot outs on our front lawns? People driving into _our _clubhouse? Snatching innocent kids?"

"My gun's already loaded, bro," Happy growled, nodding with a leery smile. "All I need's a motherfucker to aim at."

"Whatever you need," Greg "the Peg" said glancing between Piney and JT. "We got your back, bruthas."

"One hundred percent," Frankie Diamonds agreed, nodding along with the other Nomads sitting around the room.

Clay nodded, looking towards Piney. "Anybody that could have witness anything was too busy dodging bullets or shooting some of their own. We got three dead Mexicans with no ink, no kuttes, no way to I.D them without getting the authorities involved and we can't call on _Unser _because the fuckin FBI is in town. No note, no phone call, no ransom. We haven't heard anything other than this whole media blackout bullshit from Wayne. It can't be Salazar, right?" Clay looked at JT. "So what are we declaring war on the Cartel? Putting an end to our truce with Alv—"

"I hope for the girl's sake it _is _the Mayans," Frankie commented. "Because if Lobos Sonora got a hold of her the only part of her body we'll find is the head they drop off on her front steps."

"I never believe that bullshit truce with Alvarez," Piney said, scowling. "He's the asshole that sent Salazar for Gemma and—"

Jax shoved the double doors open—Opie and his mother stepping inside with him, Miles, Jason, and Niko trailing behind them.

"This shit is Salazar," Jax barked. "Payback for what I did to that asshole who beat on Wendy."

Clay grazed a thumb across his chin. "Where'd you come up with that?"

"Save the Q &amp; A," Opie interjected, looking towards his father. "We need to find this asshole and get Tara back."

"Prospects aren't sitting in on this meeting for a reason, Son," Clay told him, glancing out into the lounge behind him, eyes briefly floating towards Gemma. "You guys need to make your—"

"DON'T TRY TO TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK I NEED!" Jax bellowed.

Silence followed his outburst.

It was followed the blare of the cellphone vibrating in his front pocket. Glaring a hole into Clay's face, Jax flipped it open—pressing it to his ear. "_What?" _the irate teenager barked.

_"Jackson-the-club-is—work—"_

All the color drained from Jax's face when he heard her yelp in pain.

"Tara?!" Jax breathed. "TA—"

Opie snatched the phone right out of his hand, turning to pace in the opposite direction. "Tara where are they—"

"Give me the phone," Piney demanded, standing up.

"_She's with me," _Hector Salazar drawled into the phone. "We're hanging out. Telenovelas, Tamales..._the fuck you think_—"

"Give me the _fuckin_ phone!" Jax lunged for Opie who elbowed him in the throat without even looking back. Jax wasn't going to give up.

He didn't have to.

Piney had already walked around the table, snatching the phone much like his son had, pressing the speakerphone feature before placing it at the center of the table.

"Where's your Old man, Teller?" Hector Salazar inquired. "I need to have—"

_"I'm right here."_

"Good," Hector acknowledged, venom seeping into his tone. "Things are startin to look better for your boy's little girlfriend here."

"You got an angle here I'm not seeing?" Clay barked. "What's your endgame, _compadre? _You really picked the wrong—"

"Threats ain't gonna work this time, Mano," Hector interrupted. "I stopped giving a _fuck_ about all your _fifty_ plus charters when I realized I ain't got shit else to lose. Your President saw to that...sorry, you're _ex-_President. But you see now, I'm thinking I got a shitload to gain...and the only _numbers _that concern me now are the ones, fives and zeros on dollar bills. You see, working with Alvarez….I found out how much money you white boys are pulling in for every run you do for Galindo."

"_I'm gonna fuckin kill you," _Jax growled, blue eyes narrowing as he stared after the phone in the center of Reaper table.

Salazar chuckled. "Is that you Jackson? _Ah, _so you're a killer now, huh? That's a big step up from beating people with pool sticks, no? Listen Teller," Hector chuckled before amending the name, making it plural with, "_Teller's…._Let's look at this situation as a lawsuit in civil court. I'm in need of compensation….some uh…some _punitive _damages,_ entiendes?_ Two million for the baby boy and two precious girls my cousin Manny won't get to see grow up. Two million for _each _of my cousins you shot dead right in front of my face after I did _everything _that you asked of me. And I'm gonna want another _two _million that'll serve as your _apology _for everything you put my family through."

"Oh, is that all?" Clay snarked, nostrils flaring much like everyone else in the room.

"Not quite," Salazar replied. "I'm gonna need a _personal _apologies for Regina….Manny's Old lady….his _widow. _Make sure you bring flowers and maybe a card or somethin."

"The only card you're gonna get is the tag they hang around your toe at the fuckin morgue," Jax barked, blue eyes blazing. "And that's _if _they ever find your body."

"And you owe me another _ten _million for the death of my _son," _Hector continued, his tone losing any hint of mocking or amusement. "That brings the total to—"

_"Twenty million dollars that we don't have," _Bobby finished for him. "And you're not _getting."_

"Don't you even _try _to play broke and peasant with me, _Cabron._" Jax stopped breathing when he heard Tara cry out in pain again. "I might get _angry," _Salazar warned. "I suggest you dip into every fund you assholes have…flip over all the couch cushions…reach out to a friend. _I don't give a shit _how _you come up with the cash. _All I know is you _better_ have my money ready for the drop next time I call this number. If not?" Hector Salazar threatened. "_This bitch is dead."_

Then he killed the phone's connection.

Jax walked just close enough, leaning across the table—snatching the phone up before anyone could reach for it. Spinning on his heel, it was Clay's voice that stopped him in his tracks.

"You're right to leave, Son," Clay addressed him. "But that phone needs to stay here with us. You need to let the club decide—"

Jax spun around, arm reaching behind him—pulling a gun from the waistband of his jeans.

"_Aw fuck me," _Miles hissed.

"Not _this_ shit again," Niko mumbled.

"HEY, HEY, HEY!" Bobby and Kozik chanted.

Chibs and Padraic jumped up but made no move to walk towards the unhinged teenage boy aiming a gun at the man sitting at the head of the table.

_"Jackson,"_ Gemma called, flinching at the violent jerk of his arm when he stepped away from her touch.

"Put it down, Jackson," John Teller instructed.

"You better listen to him," Tig warned, pulling his own gun—pointing it at Jax.

Everybody was on their feet then.

Everyone but Johnathan Teller.

"The fuck you doing, Tig?" Kozik barked. "He's a kid. Let J—"

"He's _JT's _kid," Tig declared, shaking his head. "He knows what he's doing. Wrong move you're making, Prince. That's our President you're threatening."

"Put it away, Tig," JT quietly demanded, finally moving to stand with the rest of the club. The crazy-haired man didn't move an inch, his expression didn't change a tick and neither did the direction of the gun pointed at Jax's chest. "You know me Tiggy," John Teller warned him, calmly. "When I shoot, I am straighter than a crow flies, brutha. So I know I don't have to tell you what happens if you don't turn the barrel of that gun away from my son. I winged your _arm_ the other day because I _wanted _to."

"Both of you," Piney demanded. "Put the fuckin guns down NOW!"

Jax shook his head—at every single look of disapproval aimed in his direction. "You're not holding me captive in this club house…and I'm not sitting around waiting for you to decide if you're in the mood to play Good Samaritan for the day. This is my—"

"You damn right it's _your _shit," Opie snapped, charging towards him. When Jax turned towards him, he lowered the gun, but Opie still lunged at him, sliding the magazine out of the gun, tossing both parts in his hand to the floor before punching him in the face hard enough to chafe his knuckles, to send Jax leaning onto the table for support. "ALL OF THIS SHIT IS YOUR FAULT!" Opie bellowed. "Tara's missing because of _you!_ All of this shit started because of _you! _ You and your _fuckin daddy issues! _Running around half fuckin cocked attacking people because you think your daddy doesn't _love _you! _You're _the reason the club's truce with the Mayan's is bullshit. _You're _the reason that asshole you shivved in the nuts had his shitty MC break into Gemma's house and attack you. _You're _the reason that JT—the man who _doesn't love his son _had to kill off Salazar's whole fuckin family, why I spent _Christmas Eve _digging graves instead of at home with my girlfriend. Nobody has it like the _Prince..._I didn't get a chance to treat _Donna _like shit over a pair of fuckin boxers! It's no wonder you don't want to be a part of the club. It's because you already know how much you'd _fucked it up! _ I'm sick of your shit. And I'm sick of watching Tara put up with it, too. So hear me clear, Bro. This self-destruct mode you got going on? Tara's no longer a part of it. After we finish cleaning _your _mess up _Again…._you're gonna stay the Hell away from her."

Jax shook his head, pearly-white teeth glinting—his smile was razor-sharp. "I'm not a _patch_," he sneered, shrugging. "And Tara doesn't have a club for you for to be the _President_ of. So guess what, Ope? _You don't get a FUCKIN vote!"_

Opie shoved him hard, fisting his T-shirt—leaving his face open to the Jax's right hook, the skin above his eyebrow breaking.

_"YOU'RE GONNA STAY THE FUCK AWAY HER!" _

They gripped each other's shoulders at the same time, tumbling to the floor—Jax landing on top, three solid punches to Opie's face before the sixteen year old with his back against the floor veered his face upward, forehead smashing against Jax's, knocking him back.

Clay and the nomads sat in silence—smirking amongst themselves as the rest of Redwood struggled to pull the blur of blind fury apart for more than two seconds before they were right back at each other's throats.

"THIS!" Piney grunted out, dragging his son backwards, "IS WHY WE _DON'T," _Piney raised his foot kicking Jax backwards when he managed to skirt around Kozik _and _Padraic, "LET _HIGHSCHOOLERS_ PROSPECT!"

Opie's back hit the corner wall, his hands flew out shoving his father's restraining embrace away, sneering up at the man that had been giving him Hell ever since he put on the leather Kutte sliding off his shoulders. "You need spend a little less time worrying about me being a part of your precious club," Opie snapped, yanking out of his father's grip, "and a little more time worrying about how this dickhead treats your _daughter."_

* * *

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**_SEVEN YEARS AGO…_**

_"You were lucky this time," Lowell Harland Sr. lectured, looking into the backseat of his truck through the rearview mirror. "JT's not around right now and I know shit with the club is tough these days. But if you ever plan on getting patched in….Hell, I know enough about how things work to know you'll need a unanimous vote. Everyone at the table's got to accept you. And I can tell you from experience, Son….._Clay hates junkies more than Piney. _And Piney's the one with a junkie ex-wife."_

_"Quit gossiping, Lowell," Barbara Harland scolded from the front passenger seat, slapping her husband's arm. "He gets the picture right, Herman?"_

_Herman Kozik nodded emphatically, wiping at the sweat beading his forehead. "I'm a…I'm gonna….this was the _last _time," Kozik told them. "I promise, Lowell….Barb. Shit's been tough, real tough," Kozik admitted, hugging his shoulders against the chill only he felt. "Clay's got me and Pat—"_

_"Now don't _you _go rambling about stuff that doesn't concern _us," _Barbara warned, turning to face the young, spiky-haired SAMCRO prospect in the back seat of their truck. "Clay'll hate that even more than you relapsing. Reach over the chair," Barbara instructed, nodding behind him. "There's some blankets in the back. Wrap yourself and get comfortable. We should be there soon. And you better not let us down, Kiddo. I just started working there two months ago and you already have me using up all my favors."_

_Lowell chuckled, tilting his head back slightly to look at the shivering boy sitting behind him. "Barbara's got the gift of gab," he chimed in, winking at Kozik. "She'll _never _run out of fav—"_

_"LOWELL, WATCH OUT!" Barbara screamed, quickly grabbing ahold of the wheel, spinning the truck off the road. Lowell stomped down hard on the breaks before the front wheels neared the ditch—heartbeats pounding in everyone's ears when the vehicle veered to a very lucky stop. _

_Clutching her chest, Barbara turned her head first—gazing out through the fog clouding the late night highway air towards the limping figure her husband had almost hit. _

_Her hair was a birds nest atop her head. The poorly buttoned plaid shirt flapped around her, barely covering her bare breasts. Her jeans were torn beyond the distress design, ripped apart—nearly exposing everything the panties she lost should have covered up. She only had one shoe—a man's shoe that was clearly several sizes too big for her. And even in the dark of night, the lights strung up along the quiet road revealed the black and blue splotches decorating the skin of her arms, her neck, and her face._

_Barbara and Lowell both reached to open their doors, Kozik was already out of the car—wobbly on his own legs he still managed to break her fall, the collapsing young woman falling into his chest when Kozik lost balance himself, nearly falling over. _

_"Jesus Christ," Lowell shrieked, recognizing who it was. Barbara's moan of, "Oh God," carried over her husband's voice. But Kozik words were lower—they were slightly slurred but unmistakable when he wrapped his arm around the girl holding onto him like a lifeline she never thought she'd find in time. _

_"It's g-g-gonna be okay, _Fidget," _Kozik promised her. "Herm's g-got...I got you now."_

* * *

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**PRESENT DAY**

"We've been trying for years—"

"Duncan—"

"You _told _me you wanted this," Duncan continued. He wasn't even hearing his wife as he lamented, "I have _never _pressured you. I fuckin _hated _seeing the look on your face every time the pregnancy test came back negative. After every failed fertility treatment, after all the false hope from specialists happy to poke and prod and stick you until you're so stressed out and a-a-and the—God, _I fuckin hated it, Diane! _I hated seeing you miserable." Duncan took a deep breath, slowly reaching for Diane's hand, thumb ghosting over the I.V line taped over the back of it. "I have _always _wanted to start a family with you," he reminded her. "And when you decided that you didn't want to try anymore, that you didn't want any more procedures I suggested adoption, a surrogate, or we could even foster. I never wanted you to give up because I know how much you've always wanted to be a mother, and I couldn't imagine a better womaon to raise a child with...Dee, Baby…I _want_ this. I want this for _us. _I thought you wanted it, too."

"Maybe we….maybe _we can"—_Diane's voice cracked, bottom lip trembling as she swallowed against the lump forming in her throat, eyes misted over with unshed tears. When she looked up from the joining of their hands, the first one fell, tickling her chin as she tried for a smile, failing despite its bitter nature. "Maybe we can look into adoption now...or….or fost—"

"You're _pregnant," _Duncan interrupted, shaking his head. "Why would—"

"I can't be pregnant, Duncan."

Duncan's eyebrows rose, one hand gesturing towards her stomach. "You _are _pregnant!"

"I know!" Diane shrieked, her voice shrill. "But I _can't _be," she told him. "Not now….not when my brother needs me."

Confusion marred her husband's handsome feature for several moments before the weight of her words settled in his chest, igniting—of all things—his temper. "Oh you can't be serious, Dee."

"His liver's shot, Duncan," Diane explained. "He needs a new one _now. _He can't even wait three months let alone _seven. _And—"

_"You can't donate if you're pregnant,"_ Duncan finished for her.

He'd said it himself.

He'd finally reached the conclusion, the same realization that dawned on her the second she heard him mention the baby—their baby.

It wasn't a pleasant situation. It wasn't a position anyone would ever want to be in. It was hard, it was heartbreaking, it was soul-crippling and at the very least she expected some form of understanding from the man who claimed to love her.

So why the Hell was he glaring?

"He has a daughter," Duncan stressed, shaking his head. "And I've already heard first hand just how shitty a father he was. But he's turning shit around now. And even if he hadn't Tara's his child. They're _family..._My dad _hates _my Uncle Aaron. That didn't stop him from giving a kidney when he needed it. Tara—"

"Is still _MISSING!" _Diane snapped. "My niece could be lying somewhere dying and you're sitting here lecturing me about what she should be willing to give? Where the Hell do you get off trying to pressure me into anything? This is _my _body. He's _my _brother. And this is _my _fuckin family. _You don't get a say! _You want to help me out? You want to lend a _voice? _How about giving that James Bond motherfucker you hired to _stalk_ me a call? Get Gracie the Hell back here. Then maybe we can talk about if I want to add to your brood...the one you _already started with the fuckin prom Queen!_"

"You _KNOW _I'm doing everything in my power to get your niece back so don't even fuckin go there, Diane!" Duncan yelled back. "I don't get a _say? _Did you really just say that to me after everything we've been—"

"Everything _I've _been through!" Diane screeched. "Stop trying to get street cred for all shit _I _have to deal with! This shit is happening to _me, _Duncan. It's happening to _me _and I don't need you making this decision any harder than it has to be. _I'm _the one that has to choose between killing my brother or killing what's probably the one chance I have at getting what I've always wanted."

"_You _didn't kill your brother," Duncan argued, gritting his teeth. "He killed himself! He drank himself to death and now, what? You gotta give up your dream just to….to….._Diane, _you can't—_I mean what about the transplant list? _If he's—"

Diane shook her head. "He hasn't been sober long enough to meet the criteria."

"And whose fault is that?"

Diane looked down at her lap, her hands clasped together—eyes fixed on the wedding band she was twisting around her finger. "When you first found about Violet," she asked him quietly. "When you first found out your high school sweet…..when you found out you had a _two _year old daughter how did you feel? Probably shocked at first," Diane mused, twirling her golden ring. "Maybe even a little suspicious given the timing….when she decided to tell you weeks before our wedding….and when the test came back and you knew for sure, well….I could imagine how angry you were with her mother…..for lying to you…for keeping your child from you for two years."

"Yes, Dee," Duncan admitted. "I was angry. But—"

_"It didn't last long,"_ Diane finished, glancing up briefly to smile at him—eyes quickly averting before the fresh tears spilled over her lashes. "All you had to do was spend time with her….get to know your child….all you had to do was truly understand just what a….what a _gift _you'd been given...your fiance...you're _wife-to-be,_ I couldn't give you a child…that's what the first two doctors kept telling us anyway…but if you wanted? You could have stopped signing checks for all the fertility specialist long before you did…you could convince me to give up on all consults and the treatments and just...just get a dog...you'd already gotten what you wanted. _You already had a kid."_

"Dee—"

Diane shook her head, holding a hand up to halt his protest. "It's okay," she assured, smiling. "I don't blame you," she said. "I could never _blame _you. Even when I took off and came here, I was never really upset….about the _lie…._I know better than anyone what it means to keep the truth from someone when you think you're protecting them...or even to protect yourself... I wasn't mad at you, Duncan. I was mad at _me _for resenting you—for resenting both of you because you'd been blessed with something I've always wanted…something that had been taken from me…something I'd never get back."

"Yes, Baby, but you _did," _Duncan urged. "You got it back. That's why I can't just let you throw it away."

"What if she told you?" Diane raised her head, meeting the confusion swirling in the blues of his eyes. "What if you knew about Violet the whole time? What if you never met me….what if you married the girl you took to prom instead? And what if you were _happy? _What if you were happier than you could have ever imagined until _one _day….until one day you and your wife—the _love_ of your life, decided that you wanted to expand your happy family. What if, after trying for months theirs no luck? What if you had to sit in an office while your doctor calmly explained to you that you couldn't _have _kids? That you weren't capable of _conceiving _one because you've been _sterile _all your life? What if you woke up one day and found out that the little girl you tucked in every night since she was born wasn't really yours? And that by some sick, _twisted _turn of fate, you'd moved your family next door to the man who stole everything you've ever loved—every _one _you ever loved from you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Diane."

"I'm talking about a man who didn't know how to deal with his whole life being a lie,_" _Diane responded. "I'm talking about a sixteen year old girl that finally has her father back after years of putting up with the wrath her mother should have gotten ever since she died. An innocent teenage girl that's," Diane paused, hand to her mouth, finger pressing against her nose until the sob tearing through her subsided, until she could find her voice again.

"I'm talking about a girl that's going to want her Daddy to still be here when we…._if we get her back_…..I'm talking about a _family," _Diane emphasized, "that has lost too much already….I love you, Duncan. And I have always hoped to start a family of my own one day…with you, Baby….but I _can't. _Not like _this. _And I really need you to be okay with it. I need you to _tell me _you understand."

It was the look in Duncan's eyes that really crushed her. That, and the mollifying kiss to her forehead, the light squeezing of her shoulder before he stood up from the chair at her bedside. "I'm gonna get an update on Tara," he said. She watched him as he walked towards the closed hospital room door. Curling his fingers around the handle, Duncan briefly looked back at her. "_We're gonna get her back," _he promised. "And once we do…._then _we'll figure the rest out."

As she watched him pull the door open, Diane knew in her heart there wasn't much left to figure out. His answer to her unspoken question was….it was unbearably clear. She shook her head at his retreating figure. There was nothing left to figure out. Not for her at least.

But for the woman who caught the closing door with her foot, slowly stepping inside the room—there was so much she still needed to know.

_"Hi, Gemma,"_ Diane said, waving the hand she swiped across her tearstained cheek towards the empty chair her husband vacated when he left.

Gemma rushed towards her, dropping her purse in the seat instead of her ass—heavily-ringed hand tunneling through her long, dark hair. No snide, "Hey, _sweetheart," _and no obligatory, "How are you feeling?" either. Her hands were empty of flowers, no Get Well Teddy bear or Card. All Gemma brought along was herself.

And the fear crippling her, rolling off of her waves as she finally uttered the words, "_I think Piney knows."_

Diane's laugh was hoarse, the smile brightening her eyes triumphant even if it was bitter—even if the resentment and contempt she felt for Gemma bled through it all. "How _could _he know?" Diane challenged. "_You _don't even know."

She didn't.

Not the truth.

Not all of it.

And as the infamous matriarch had once advised a mild-mannered sixteen year old Diane, it was time for her to "educate."

* * *

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_**SEVEN YEARS AGO...**_

_Diane opened her eyes slowly—reaching for her throat, rubbing against the dry burn inside as she coughed until a hand that wasn't her own came into view. A hand holding out a tiny cup with a straw. Her eyes widened with sudden awareness at the two _SAMCRO _rings on his fingers, the calculating look in his eyes when she finally turned her head to meet his gaze._

_"Unser found Gemma's car," Clay Morrow said, sitting the cup down when she refused it. "_Totaled…._I guess you had a little too much to drink," the Sargent at arms mused, smiling creepily at her. "You probably shouldn't have taken Gem's precious ride out on the road after a few too many, Darlin. As soon as the doctor clears you to go home she'll have her foot up your ass for wrecking her _baby. _But then I guess she might give you a pass given how upset I heard you were about Padraic having to leave again. My orders, I know. And I'm sorry about that, sweetheart but I needed him. And—"_

_"_What the Hell are you talking about?" _Diane snapped, ignoring her sore throat. _

_"You had a few," Clay told her, leaning forward. "Or maybe you were high. Take your pick. But you were on _something _last night and that's why you crashed the car into that big tree down the road from Oswald construction. Unser's letting you off with a slap on the wrist. He'll be suspending your license for a few months but at least you're alive and didn't hurt anyone else. A busted face, a couple cracked ribs but other than that you're fine…_that's _the story. You need to remember it and stick to it."_

_Color flooded her pale, battered face as her temperature rose—as her anger rose. "Do you _really," _Diane growled through her teeth, "expect me to lie for _you?"

_Clay shook his head, shrugging his shoulders once. "Not for me," he replied. "For _Padraic…_You know Paddy boy needs a unanimous vote to get patched in, right? I'd hate the think how he'd feel if you're the reason he didn't get his top rocker."_

_"Oh, I think he'll understand," Diane sneered, scratching her already bruised face with her nails in her haste to wipe the traitorous angry tears welling in her eyes away. _

_"_Chibs _would understand, too," Clay countered, nodding his head. "Doing business with the IRA can be…_risky…wth the all the enemies we've got?..._the outlaw life is so dangerous and unpredictable….casualties happen all the time…sometimes it's even friendly fire…_brotherly _fire," Clay warned her, lowering his voice. "Believe me, Darlin….it won't be the first time a SON killed another one….brothers been killing each other since Cain and Abel…"_

_Diane sat up fast, wincing at the sharp pain in her shoulders. "Chibs would never—"_

_"_find out," _Clay interrupted. "It's my word against," the heartless biker paused briefly, shrugging again, "Well...It'll be even easier to get rid of you. But it doesn't have to be that way. And you might not believe me….but I don't _want _it to be, Darlin. I know you never liked me….I can tell you trust me even less. But I didn't," Clay paused again, adding more emphasis when he told her, "_I didn't…._I'm just as innocent as you are in all of this. I had to make a hard choice for the good of the club."_

_"Are you delusional?" Blood dotted her bottom lip as her teeth grazed the dry, chapped flesh—gritting against the harsh reality of his expectations. "_They raped me…._that evil son of a bitch left me for dead….and you could have stopped it all if—"_

"You took one for the team,_" Clay interjected. "It's called being an Old lady. You can't handle it? You're free to leave and I promise I won't go chasing after you. Want to stay? I'll support that too. But you had better keep your mouth shut. It's not _just _your life you have to think about."_

_"JT would have _never _done what you did," Diane answered, crying silent, angry tears. "He would have—"_

_"It doesn't matter what he would have done," Clay growled, rage flashing in his eyes. "I'm the one that's been keeping this club afloat while him and Piney sit in Stockton with their three square meals a day. _They can't help you, _sweetheart," Clay threatened. "I'm the one with the gavel, acting Chief or not. And when I'm at the head of the table I don't keep shit in order by being loyal or _compassionate…_I win by being fuckin ruthless. I will never let my conscience get in the way of handling business when it protects my club. So if I have to handle _you _I'll do it." _

_Gemma walked in then. _

_As usual, no knocking—no hint of her arrival before she burst through the door. The matriarch rushed towards the bed at the center of the Charming Med hospital room, flinging her arms around the eighteen year old sitting in it. "Holy shit," Gemma hissed, pulling back from her hug, one hand gingerly turning her face to get a full view of all the damage. "And I thought my _car _was wrecked."_

_Diane sobbed against her shoulder. "I'm sorry," she croaked._

_Gemma's eyes narrowed in confusion, guilt seeping into her features as she patted her hair, chin resting at the crown Diane's head. "It's _okay_, Baby," Gemma assured her, looking up quizzically at Clay as if he'd understand why Diane was more upset about the car than her. "_It's just a car," _Gemma crooned. "…that's what insurance is for. Don't worry about it….I'm just happy you're okay..."_

_She tried to be._

_For weeks on end Diane tried to be okay—tried to pretend she was even though she wasn't. But then the H.I.V test came back negative. _

_And the doctor followed up the good news with the bad._

_Diane found out she was pregnant._

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**Several weeks later...**

_Diane's heart slammed against her ribcage when the front door opening, snapping shut. She peeked her head around the corner at the sound of jangling keys, glaring at the triumphant sneer beaming at her._

_"Were you even planning on saying goodbye?" Gemma accused, waving her hand at the duffel bag on the floor, the open suitcase on the bed when she stepped inside her bedroom uninvited. "You've been flipping out for months—ever since that last run Padraic did for Clay. Setting his Harley on fire? Getting all friendly with that crank whore working at Luann's studio? Shit ain't been right with you since he got back and while I'm coming to your defense—trying to stop him from sending you packing—"_

_"That's right, Gemma," Diane cut in, pointing a thumb at her chest. "_I'm _the one doing the packing!"_

_"_Red Rose," _Gemma commented, smirking. "That's got to be the most interesting porn name I've ever_ heard….Rosy_ flipped on you the second I walked my ass into that studio. I know all about the pregnancy and the clinic you been asking her about." Diane didn't bother looking over at her, snatching clothes out of the closet, rushing to stuff them into her suitcase. "She said you checked it out…didn't trust it….changed your mind—cancelled the appointment she set up for you. Does Padraic even _know _you're pregnant?"_

_"That's none of your damn business," Diane snapped, slamming the suitcase shut, snatching at the zipper. Gemma stepped forward, sending the luggage flying from the bed before she shut it all the way._

_"Maybe not, but it is _his _business!" Gemma growled. "And if you think you're gonna run off with his kid it'll be the _club's _business, too."_

_"Really, Gemma?" Diane challenged, swallowing the anguish threatening to rear its ugly head in the form of tears. "You don't think the club's done enough to me?"_

_"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Gemma snapped. "We took you in. We've been the only family you've got ever—"_

_"Clay tells you _everything," _Diane interrupted, her voice quaking. "He lets you in on all of his deep…dark…dirty secrets. Are you really going to stand there and pretend you don't know what that heartless, ruthless monster did to me? What he did in the name of _your _family?"_

_"How many times are you gonna cry wolf about Clay?" Gemma shook her head. "Is that the excuse you're using for this?"_

_"I don't need an excuse, Gemma." Diane bent forward, picking her suitcase back up, zipping it up the rest of the way. "I'm leaving."_

_Gemma shook her head. "I can't just let you go."_

_Diane smiled at her then, venom dripping from every word when she said, "Oh, but you're _going _to. Because if you don't mine won't be the only unhappy home around here. I wonder how JT would feel about you fuckin Clay? How would your _family _feel about him disrespecting their president? I mean the prison clause is one thing….but what about little Tommy? What if it turns out he's been calling the wrong man Daddy?"_

_Gemma smacked her hard across the face, shaking the sting of it from her own palm. _

_Someone was knocking on her front door._

_Diane smiled at her, dabbing at her lip—smirking snidely at the red staining her fingers. "Hope you enjoyed that," she said, brushing past Gemma with her luggage in both hands as she walked out of the bedroom. "Because that's the last time I let _anyone _violate me."_

_She left Gemma right where she stood, glaring at the Teller-Morrow truck driving off from the curb__—pouring all of her focus into the reply the spiky-haired blonde driving gave her to,_ "How was rehab?" _as he gave__ her a ride out of town._

_If Gemma was smart, and she really gave a shit about her "family"...she would make sure the Club didn't come down on Kozik for helping her out._

_Just one final time._

* * *

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**PRESENT DAY**

_"Excuse me_," Piney Winston said, leaning over the counter of the fourth floor Nurses' station. A tall, grey-haired woman in pink scrubs slooked up at him. "I'm looking for a Patricia Coll—"

_"Barbara sent you?" _Nurse Patricia interrupted, eyeing the leather kutte on his back. When he nodded, she simply held her hand out, dropping the bag he gave her down onto the desk, next to the keyboard she'd been typing on.

Piney stared at the Ziploc bag on the desk. "Barbara said you'd be able to rush the—"

"I already called down to the lab," Patricia interjected once more. "I'll call you when the results are in. Make sure you tell Barbara she's used her _last _favor with me," the stern woman commented, her dark eyes softening just a bit when she briefly glanced up at him, adding, "_And tell her I wish her son a speedy recovery." _

Piney clapped his hand against the counter once, stepping back from it as he nodded in agreement. "Sure thing, Darlin…thanks."

He headed towards the elevator, stopping to stand in front of the sealed metal doors—completely lost in his thought when the downward facing triangle dinged orange and the double doors slid open, revealing the very person he'd been meaning to talk to.

"Hi, Sweetheart," Gemma said, swallowing hard, subtly sliding closer to the wall when he stepped inside. Neither one of them spoke the whole trip through the lobby, across the parking lot—until Piney finally spun around to face her, the absence of a gun pointing at her face doing nothing to lessen the effect of the threatening gleam in his eyes. "Piney—"

"You were my first stop when I got back from Eureka," Piney told her, getting straight to his point without any preamble. "I came across this box of stuff when the prospects were helping you unpack….a bunch of old letters I sent to Mary…quite a few from Opie," he said, cocking his head sideways. "Hell, I even found some of _my _mail...but you see…that's not even what's eating at me... It's the fact that Mary wasn't home to answer all the questions I had...guess she hasn't been living at the last address she gave me for a while now it seems... And there was an interesting file buried underneath all the letters and uncashed alimony checks….bank account statements…the deed on a house in San Francisco—mortgage paid in full...and a whole bunch of fine-print bullshit about the federal witness protection program."

Piney stepped closer to her, blocking her view of the ATF agent walking past them, headed towards St. Thomas' front lobby entrance. "You want to tell me why you have a box full of letters I wrote my ex-wife? Why there's a file from the feds lumped in with them? Why do you have her things, Gemma? Why are there letters my son wrote to his mother in your storage unit? _And where the fuck is Mary?"_

Piney would have to wait a little longer for the answer to all his questions.

And Gemma was given just a little more time to try outrunning the judgment day that was coming for her hard and fast.

His cell phone rang.

It was JT calling to let him know he set the meet with Diane Knowles' husband and his associate.

Gemma didn't release the breath she'd been holding until she watched Piney's Harley clear the corner, zooming out of the St. Thomas parking lot.

* * *

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"Are you sure?" Agent Neal Barnaby asked, skepticism clear in his tone.

Claire Washburn looked up from the page she'd been scribbling across on the clipboard in her hands. "Feel free to apply to Med school," she snarked, rolling her eyes at him, turning her attention to her paperwork. "Then _you _can become a coroner and have some arrogant, prick suit come in your place of business and question your competence."

Agent Barnaby held his hands up in mock surrender. "Put the gun down, Darlin. I'm not questioning shit. I just can't believe—"

"Believe it, Honey," Claire interjected, glancing over at the scattered human remains on the cold locker slid open between them. "I double checked the dental records just to be sure. Those are indeed the remains of Maryanne Winston.._..._and you fools wonder why nobody in this town ever trusts law enforcement. _Witness protection, my ass."_

* * *

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**[F**IV**E**** ] YEARS AGO….**

"You sure you're okay?"_ Jax asked. _

_Tara nodded at him, smiling weakly. "I'm fine, Jax….and according to the doctor, my dad's okay, too."_

_"I don't give a shit about your Dad right now," Jax fumed, scowling as he moved to sit down on the bench next to her. "I thought _you _usually drove when you go to pick him up from whatever bar he's at. Look, Tara, I know he's your Old man but—"_

_"Jackson—"_

_"Maybe you shouldn't plead his case this time," Jax suggested, reaching for her hand. "You're always saying the only reason you cover for him with the judge is because you don't want to end up in foster care if they sentence him. But maybe Unser can work something out with my dad or even Piney. You can stay with Opie or at the clubhouse. Let Arthur sober up in Stockton for a few months. You won't even have to get social services involved."_

_"That's not how it works, Jax," Tara argued, smiling at him even as she narrowed her eyes. "And don't think I didn't notice you left out the option of staying over _your _house."_

_Jax shrugged, smirking. "I figure I could spare you Gemma's drill sergeant routine. Plus….well—"_

_"Gemma's not letting me stay over for dinner, let alone live in her house while my dad's in jail for crashing his car into a dry cleaner's with his twelve year old daughter in the car._ I know..._but Jackson_,"_ Tara said, her smile faltering as she looked down at their joined hands on her thigh. "You can't really expect to convince me not to do something for my dad that you would do for yours... I messed up, okay? You're right. Usually I'm the one that drives but when he insisted he hadn't had that much I gave him the keys. Next time—"_

_"There shouldn't even _be _a next time, Babe." _

_Tara's green eyes widened slightly, a deep blush flooding her cheeks. "_Babe?"

_ "Uh…yeah," Jax said, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly—cheeks turning pink. "You're the one always complaining about me calling you Darlin. So I had to come up with a general um...what did Ms. Taylor call it?"_

_Tara smirked. "Term of endearment?"_

_"Right, exactly." Jax cleared his throat, moving the hand holding hers to rake it through his hair. "So I figured I'd try _Babe _out and see if that doesn't get me kicked in the nuts."_

_Tara giggled. "I've never kicked you in the nuts!"_

_"Not yet," Jax teased, looking down at her legs. "But you're always threatening to."_

_"So Babe, huh?" Tara's eyes flitted towards the ceiling, her mouth twitching at the corners. "You better not be talking about Babe the pig or I _will _kick you in the nuts."_

_Jax rolled his eyes. "Not _Babe_ as in pig," he told her. "If that was the case I'd just call you bacon." Jax laughed with her, sobering up just a bit, when he tilted his head sideways, blue eyes twinkling with something neither child were ready to identify when he flashed her a half-slanted smile. "I mean Babe as in….well, just _Babe."

"Oh."

_"You don't like it?"_

_Tara shrugged, looking towards the stack of magazines on top of the coffee table in front of them. "It's better than _Darlin," _she commented, moving to tuck her hair behind her ear. _

_Jax beat her to it—brushing her hair back, smiling in triumphant at the way she gasped when he leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Alright then, Knowles. _Babe _it is from now on."_

_Tara scoffed, rolling her eyes when she turned to see him winking at her. "Whatever you say, Teller."_

_"Yeah," Jax joked, elbowing her side. "…Unless it's _Darlin."

_Diane Knowles watched from the corner of the fourth floor hallway of St. Thomas hospital, observing the two junior high school kids huddled together in the patient waiting area. Twelve year old Jackson Teller was sitting beside the pretty, green-eyed brunette that used to call her 'Auntie _Dining'_ when she was three._

_His palm caressed her face, his thumb brushing lightly across the cut on Tara's right cheek, right below her eye. Neither twelve year old had even noticed it when she walked past them— turning the handle on the hospital room door across the hall from where they sat. _

* * *

_There was an ATF Agent in her brother Arthur's hospital room when she stepped inside._

_ Smarmy and arrogant as ever, June Stahl had apparently been expecting her to come home—she'd been happy to boast that it was even her idea to slap him with an reckless endangerment charge in hopes that it would catch a certain Charming escapee's attention. _

_Agent Stahl knew all about the women of SAMCRO. _

_They always lied to protect their men. And the reason they had to lie is because they knew a Hell of a lot more than the misogynistic outlaw world led common folks (and law enforcement) to believe. The Matriarch and all the Old ladies she govern over were the gatekeepers. They never lifted a finger to do more than flip a pancake or change a diaper but they knew where the bodies were buried—they knew all the deep, dark secrets that could hurt the men they loved._

_The men who loved them so much that they fucked around on long runs because it was the way of the "life". The men who loved them so much that they would choose their gun running business over saving one of their "so called" own from being brutally raped and beaten. The men who loved their women _so much _that they would keep their children away from them._

_ The women of SAMCRO were like straw—nothing but lightweight divided._

_ But Stahl knew that gathering up the right bunch was a sure way to break the camel's back. _

_That was what she'd told her anyway. It was the big picture she painted Diane when trying to convince her to join forces with Mary Winston to take down the club that ruined their lives, the crime organization that left them scarred without so much as an "I'm sorry."_

_ But Diane wasn't having any part of it._

_Not at first. _

_The first words out of her mouth were repetitive, the same statement she'd made the night Mary Winston showed up on her doorstep pleading the same case Stahl presented her with. _

_"_I'm not a rat," _Diane told them both._

_And she never intended to be. _

_But then she decided to make a trip to the clubhouse she used to get drunk and party at. She relished the idea of spending some time with _Gracie. _Tara had been long gone by the time she'd finished chastising and threatening her brother for his negligent parenting, by the time she finished telling the ATF Agent on her tail to kick rocks. _

_Tara was at the clubhouse, sitting outside at the same picnic table where her and Padraic were sitting the first time he kissed her. Opie and the Hale's daughter joined Tara and Jax this time—the four of them laughing and playing cards. Jax and Opie against Sarah and Tara, or as Diane recalled when they were younger "Lady Tee" and "Princess Rah." _

_Once again, the twelve year old's were completely oblivious to the interloper, leaning against the brick, clubhouse wall—standing at the corner, smiling nostalgically at the group of them. Bittersweet reflection on the good memories and bad she'd made in this very place consumed her until she wasn't seeing them, but instead a younger, unblemished version of herself and Padraic. And Kozik when the two friends first talked about prospecting for the club. It was like looking into a kaleidoscope—memories vibrant with all the colors of her past. _

_But Diane didn't have long to silently reminisce. _

_His footsteps went unnoticed, but the large hand on her shoulder snapped her out of her moment of reverie, drawing her attention to the darkest part of her young adulthood spectrum—the ultraviolet she'd spent the last three years trying to bury. _

_"I heard you were back in town," Clay Morrow said, arms outstretched wide as if he expected a hug. They dropped at his sides when she took several steps back, hidden from view of the children outside on the lot by the wall. "Guess you heard about charges against your big brother. A Hell of a lot more than a DUI this time. Crashed the Cutlass into the Vidal's dry cleaners. Almost ran a customer down. Heard your niece got banged up a little too, although," Clay mused, craning his neck around the wall's corner to peek towards the picnic table, "It looks like she's alright."_

_"Gossip and people are like flies and shit in this town," Diane mused. "Can't have one the other."_

_Clay smirked. "I'm a little surprised to see you back here." He stepped closer to her, smiling widening. "Hoping to play catch up with Paddy? If that's what you're here for I'm sorry to tell you, he's not here, Darlin. Neither are Chibs and JT. The boys went on a run to Nevada day before yesterday. JT wanted me to stay put in Redwood. Looking after operations here, make sure everything's going smooth in Charming."_

_"Is that what you're doing by standing here, talking to me?" Diane sneered, glaring up at him._

_"A friend of mine was up at St. Thomas earlier today," Clay commented, reaching inside his Kutte. Diane had doubts as to the coincidence of his hands brushing lightly over the gun hanging from a shoulder holster at his side before reaching the inside breast pocket to pulling out a carton of cigarettes. "He was there visiting a sick relative when he said he could have _sworn _he saw Diane Knowles." Clay offered her the carton, cigarette dangling between his lips as he put it away when she refused it. Flicking his lighter against the tip, he took a measured pull, blowing the smoke out through his nose. _"You want to tell me why you were talking to a Fed?"

_"Redhead?" Diane said, smiling slyly at him. "Tall and skinny? Walks like she has a stick up her ass?"_

_Clay chuckled lightly. "Yeah," he said, pointed the cigarette at her in gesture. "That sounds about right."_

_"Well," Diane replied, shrugging. "She's a _friend _of mine. You know…kinda like how you and _Chief Unser _are friends."_

_"I'm sorry to hear you say that, Darlin," Clay commented. "You having that kind of _friendship _with an ATF Agent doesn't make me feel so good about you being in town. The timing seems a little off given you showed up here only a few weeks after those ATF pricks did."_

_"Lucky for me I don't give a shit about how you feel," Diane snapped, moving to walk around him. _

_Clay body blocked her, leaning his arm against the wall. "But you care about your niece don't you? And your brother of course."_

_"Are you threatening me?" Diane seethed. _"Again?"

_Clay shook his head, smiling. "I just wish the lawmen weren't being so hard on ole' Art. He's just mourning his wife….doing the best he can. Besides…from what I hear he didn't even exceed the legal limit. He was _just _getting started when his daughter drove up. As many as he usually knocks back I'd say he was pretty much..._ sober_. I think his past history with D.U.I's clouded Hale's judgment this time around...If Arthur says he lost control of the car, I believe him….cars malfunction _allll_ the time….it doesn't matter who's driving either. It could be a raging alcoholic…or the twelve year old girl driving him home from the bar….But I doubt you'll ever have to worry about that kind_ of...mechanical _issue __now that JT's boy convinced his Old man to give his school crush a discount on fixing her daddy's Cutlass…It's in the shop right now...I got Lowell working on it. It should be good as new in a few days. So you can rest assured...that if _anything _were to happen like the other day, it would have to be some twisted act of…._fate_."_

* * *

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"You're gonna have to wait a few hours to show that off," Freddy commented as he cleaned up his station. "I don't use saran wrap, so the bandaging you got is good to stay on til you shower. After you do, make sure you pat it dry with a clean towel and put the ointment on it…_every _night for the next five days at least….unless you want a big ass scab on your chest instead of new ink, got it?"

"Thanks, man," Jax told him, forcing a smile on his face as he fastened the buttons on his shirt back up. He'd slipped the club's go-to tattoo artist a little something extra to give that pain in the ass prospect Niko an excuse to go to the bathroom. As soon as Freddy "accidentally" stabbed him with needle, Niko walked off to rinse the blood and his assignment for the day blew straight out the front door.

Jax barely fastened his helmet on good before he revved his up bike, peeling out of the lot. As he turned the corner, he raised a hand high, flashing his middle finger at his babysitter when he spotted him yelling from the curb through his peripheral vision.

What the Hell was JT thinking?

For someone who swore his son was cut from the same cloth as him, he seemed to take for granted the fact that Jax was every bit as formidable as the man who raised him. No fuckin body was going to oppress him. Especially not some grunt, SAMCRO hopeful. And besides, he was his mother's child, too.

And there no one who could divert and disappear better than Gemma Teller.

A million and one scenarios and solutions swarmed in his head. Tara was on his mind, same as always when he wasn't with her, even when he tried to block her out—unlike now, when she _needed _him to think of no one else but her. He had to find her—had to figure out where she was and either save her or die bloody trying.

Jax was riding through the streets of Charming on autopilot.

He ended up at the end of her street, staring down the block—eyes squinted at the cluster of motorcycles parked on Tara's front lawn, the Hispanic men gathered around her front steps, and the two blondes sitting in the center of the circle. It was when Chastity stood up from the steps to peer over the men in front of her that Jax continued the path down the block, pulling his bike to a stop at the curb. One hand automatically reached behind him for the waistband of his jeans. Jax bit back a curse, remembering that his father took the gun he had right before he charged Niko with keeping a close eye on him and reporting back if he didn't decided to go lone ranger.

"I figured you show up here eventually," Chastity said. The pretty, blue-eyed blonde he didn't recognize walked in stride with her as they made their way over to him—the pack of Hispanic bikers stopping behind them. "They tried the clubhouse first…didn't make it past the gate."

"Almost got shot at, too," one of the guys huffed, shaking his head. "some bullshit about Mayans and Calavarez like all Lations look the same!"

"Who are your friends?" Jax asked, unclasping his helmet but not yet pulling it off his head.

"You're name's Jackson, right?" said the mystery blonde. "I'm Veronica," she told him. "Duncan's like my broth—"

_"Hey, I thought _I _was your brutha from another mother?"_

Jax turned his head, eyebrows rising as Wallace Fennel approached them.

"As I was _saying," _Veronica continued, playfully snatching the pick out of Wallace's afro. Her smile faltered, solemnness shining in her eyes when she said, "Duncan told me about what happened with your girlfriend and…her aunt Diane happens to be the closest thing I have to a big sister so….I'm here to help out in any way I can…make sure we get her back here." Veronica briefly turned her head to glance back at the crew of men standing behind her before adding, "And these are some friends of mine. I gotta admit, I've never been one to pass up on the chance to cash in on a big favor, so these guys are here to h—"

"_HA!" _Eli Navarro scoffed, shaking his clean-shaven head at her while the other young men around him chuckled under their breath. "What's this, favor number _three hundred? _You know the only reason I look out for you is cuz I'm still waiting to _love you longgg time."_

"_This _idiot," Veronica announced, waving a hand at the bald biker president. "Is _Weevil _and the guys standing behind him are members of his MC."

"_Most _of them are," Eli "Weevil" Navarro corrected. He gestured towards the young men behind him one by one as she ratted off their names and rank. "Emmett's my VP," he told Jax. "Yolando here is our Sargent….we ain't got much need for treasury at the moment but that's Luis...and this is _Paulie_, _Miguel, Damon, Mikey_ and _THIS _moron here with the stupid ass haircut," Weevil said, grabbing a young man with weird tribal tattoos on either side of his low-cut mohawk, "This is my nerdy little 'cuz Juan."

Juan stepped forward, holding his palm out, smiling when Jax accepting the gesture, slapping hands with him. "Everybody calls me Juice."

"_Wallace," _Veronica declared, sliding the hair pick back into his afro. She pressed a hand towards her chest. "_Veronica," _she reminded. "And now that everybody's acquainted how about we get to it?"

"Station first," Chastity suggested, eyeing Jax nervously. She wrung her hands together, guilt shining in her eyes when she admitted quietly, "When it happened…..I still had my camera and...I filmed a lot of it, and I _know…._I know I probably should have given it to the club but I couldn't just lie to my cousin."

Jax nodded stiffly. "So you gave it to Katy."

"One of Charming's finest deputies," Veronica surmised, winking at the blonde standing next to her. "I'm thinking that's the first stop on our list….unless you got a better idea…Jax?"

Chastity frowned. "FBI's already in town," she told them. "They've taken over the station and despite her not trusting the guy they have running the investigation…Katy's following command until Unser's back in charge….Katy doesn't want me getting involved…made me promise not to tell you or anyone connected to SAMCRO what I had because she doesn't want to be in danger next but….I couldn't just say _nothing."_

"Thank you," Jax said, a ghost of a smile crinkling the corners of his mouth. "….I need to see that tape though."

"No worries, man," Wallace said, clapping Veronica on her shoulder. "_That's what V's here for." _

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JT looked up from the page he'd been scribbling against, closing his pen within the journal on the Oakland park, picnic table in front of him, tucking it back inside of his Kutte as they approached him.

Piney arrived right on time, trekking closely behind the two well-tailored suited men approaching—both of them holding two oversized, black briefcases in each of their hands. Chibs passed the lit cigarette in his hand to Happy, walking away from the blacked out van they were leaning against, standing beside JT

"Twenty million," Duncan explained, him and his associate setting the briefcases down on the table. "Five million in each. They'll have to settle for big bills."

"We appreciate you lending a hand," Piney voice, gruffly.

"I'm not doing it for you," Duncan clarified, glaring. "My twenty million dollar hand is for Diane and her niece…the _only _one's innocent in this shit storm."

"Hey," Chibs warned. "Put the gun down, Lad. Nobody here's raising theirs at ya."

Duncan ignored the comment, waving a hand towards the man standing next him—the formidable Mr. Trench coat.

"You said your name is Clarence, right?" JT smiled. "The last Clay I met tried to kill me."

"Yeah, well hopefully this one won't have a _reason_ to," Duncan sneered.

_"The fuck he just say?" _Happy barked, walking away from the van to join them.

"Easy," JT, holding his hands up to the patches ready to pounce on his behalf. "That's not what we're here for."

"No," Clarence Wiedman injerjected, needlessly adjusting his hat. "And it would be ill-advised if we didn't move on to what we _are _here for….Did you bring him?"

"Aye." Chibs crossed his arms, nodding a head up at him. "Where's your guy?"

Clarence turned towards his boss. "Plausible deniability would probably be best," he advised him. Duncan nodded stiffly, walking away without so much as nod in response to the men who'd indirectly hurt the woman he loved for the second time.

"Send the kid!" Clarence added, as Duncan head back towards the tinted Escalade they'd climbed out of.

JT and co. watched as Duncan pulled the back passenger door open—and Kyle Hobart slowly climbed out, limping his way over to them.

"Chibs," JT said.

It was all he needed to.

Chibs and Happy both walked back towards the van, pulling the back doors open—ushering Lowell Harland Sr. from inside.

Kyle, Lowell and Clarence joined JT and Piney at the picnic table—sitting down as Happy and Chibs picked up the briefcases, tossing them into the van. "We can talk strategy for the drop when Salazar calls back," JT declared. "But for now...theirs other business we need to discuss."

Piney nodded in agreement, his menacing glare bouncing back and forth between Kyle and Lowe. "_And everybody better know their goddamn roles."_

* * *

**_Part II _**_coming soon... _(needs major* editing)

* * *

For the sake of my sanity (not kidding, this one was a BITCH! The second half even more so.)

**|REVIEW|**


	82. Chapter 72: Part II

**Chapter 72: **Part **II**

**DISCLAIMER: **Adult themes, Violence; _More Flashbacks..._

\- Veritable Old Lady Crow

* * *

_I don't believe in self-pity_

_It only brings you down_

_May be the queen of broken hearts_

_But I don't hide behind the crown..._

_The baby girl without a chance_

_A victim of the circumstance_

_The one who oughta give up_

_But she's just too hard headed..._

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It would have probably been the funniest shit he'd ever witnessed.

Veronica Mars and her friends put all the scheming he'd ever seen Tig and Kozik pull off to shame. The show they put on was hilarious, right down to Weevil ringing the bell at the circulation desk, complaining about loud music blasting in his neighborhood (in another town) at night. Luis, Mikey, and Paulie joining in, agreeing with him until all of the sudden they disagreed with each other enough to abruptly start fighting—and punching and shoving, joining forces with each other to beat on the cops trying to break them apart. By the time the three of them were in handcuffs demanding the right to contact their attorney, "_Duncan Kane," _Chastity had already slipped the key to the evidence room off the ring on Deputy Byrd's desk. Veronica had already knocked on Chief Wayne Unser's private office door, the pint-sized blonde slipping past the officer who advised her that they too busy conducting an investigation to spare her a moment of their time.

If Jax had been inside, standing near Unser's office he could have watched through the crack in the door, underneath Agent Gordon's outstretched arm as Veronica "accidentally" knocked a stapler off the desk, swiping it with one from the duffel bag she dropped at her feet before suddenly deciding her "very serious problem" could wait until after their investigation.

But Jax was in car, parked all the way at the corner, across the street from the precinct—sitting in the front passenger side next to Veronica's best friend Wallace.

Waiting.

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"So," Wallace said, cutting through the silence, turning towards him. "Your dad's the President of his MC."

"Founding member," Jax replied dryly, opting not to discuss the man who technically had his father's gavel.

"My father's a MC President, too," Wallace admitted, shrugging. Jax looked away from the window, blue eyes temporarily averted from the front entrance of the Charming PD Precinct as his curiosity peaked. Instead of speaking, Jax merely raised an eyebrow in question. Wallace smirked. "My mom was born and raised in Chicago. That's where she met him...she moved us to Cali when I was one….and...well, for almost seventeen years I thought my Old man was dead because she told me he was. My pop's was into some real bad shit back then….working with some drug Kingpin named Lamont Bishop…he was always promising her that he would get out but when she found out she was pregnant with me…she told him she was done waiting for him to choose….wasn't the first time she said it either….I guess she had a habit of running, but she always ended up right back with him…but _this _time she had someone else to think about….it was about more than just protecting herself….she found out she was having a son," Wallace mused, smiling absently at the dashboard. "A couple months ago I found out my dad didn't really die in some freak car accident like she told me…He just showed up on my doorstep one day out of the blue….that's when I found out that my real father wasn't Michael Cook, the guy who raised me until he died when I was ten….his name is Taddarius Orwell Cross…_T.O _for short…he severed ties with that Bishop cat and moved to Cali to formed his own MC….called themselves the Grimm Bastards."

"Holy shit, T.O's your Old man?" Jax smiled, blue eyes widening in surprise. "_I know him."_

"Yeah, well…I'm sure you know him a lot more than I do," Wallace mused, briefly casting a glance out the window on Jax's side. When he met the blue eyes staring quizzically at him, Wallace sighed, an sardonic grin twisting his mouth up. "Ever since my father showed up I've been giving my momma _Hell _for what she did….for lying to me all my life...spent all these months resenting her for the choice she made for me without giving me or my Old man any say….but you know what? I'm sitting in a car with another son of an MC outlaw…waiting for my best friend to finish wiretapping a police station and steal evidence…and it's all for a girl who's_ only_ connection to the _outlaw _part of your life is that you love her enough to do whatever it takes to get her back."

"I _will _do whatever it takes," Jax growled, nostrils flaring. "And you won't ever hear me apologizing for any of it either."

Wallace held his hands up in surrender, shaking his head. "Hey, man, I mean no offense. I'm _just saying…._looking at your situation…if this shit ain't clarity, I don't what _is…._my father was a dangerous man, he was involved with a lot of dangerous people….and as _reformed _as he claims to be…he's probably still doing a lot of the same shit he did in Chi-town, just in a sunnier State…my _mother? _She's just you like you, bro. She did what she felt she had to do to keep me safe. The only difference is….she got me out of dodge _before _my Old man had to do _whatever it takes…._and I shouldn't fault her for any of it…I shouldn't fault her for wanting more for me than the life she tolerated because she loved the man who lived it...because their really ain't no shame or blame in her loving _me _more….I just wish….wait a…._shit, hold on….I think…"_

Wallace reached for the tiny, black knob on the right side of the car radio, twisting it all the way up. "Sounds like V came through," he said, his faces inches away from Jax's as they both leaned against the dashboard. There were several seconds before the static muffling the voices coming through the car's speakers finally cleared.

Then they were able to hear every word of the heated conversation between two angry men—one of which, Jax recognized instantly.

Both boys flinched at the back passenger doors behind both of them opened—Chastity and Veronica quickly sliding into the backseat.

"Oh good, it worked!" Chastity gushed, cocking an eyebrow at all three hands that were held up to her in a gesture to be quiet.

_"...you need to pack your shit and get the fuck out," _Unser snapped. "_YESTERDAY! This is _my _town, my goddamn jurisdiction and—"_

_"Not according to the notarized document on my desk, you aren't," Agent Robert Kohn sneered._

_"Oh, you really wanna go there with me right now?" _Unser countered. _"Because I got a feeling the D.O.J won't even _sneeze _at any of the_ alleged_ illegal activities you used to muscle your way into _my _office. The badge I wear on my chest is about doing what's best for the community I grew up in. I'm about protecting my own, too, but there is a big _fuckin _difference between making things works with an outlaw MC and trying to cover up the fact that my son's a murderer and a kidnap—"_

_"YOU HAVE NO PROOF HE KIDNAPPED ANYBODY!"_

_"Maybe not," _Unser conceded, the subtle _thwack _of a stack of paperwork being plopped onto the desk briefly triggering the static of the bug hidden inside the stapler next to it. _"But there's a shitload of incentive….your son's been stalking Tara Knowles for months now, maybe even more! This is just what we found so far—what I found even though you and your team tried to bury it! There's a fifteen year old girl missing—"_

_"Snatched up by a van full of Mexican bangers!" _Kohn interjected. "_Blowback from whatever illegal activities you and your SAMCRO buddies are involved in! _That _shit pile's on you! My son is…. …he's not in his right mind…he needs help and what he did to his cousin is—"_

_"Not _just _his cousin," _Unser amended. "_Junior's not the only victim here. What about Pearson Reynolds? What about the teenage girl he's been preying on? Who's to say the guys in that van didn't just beat him to the punch? Or maybe he's got a following...he's into some cult shit...It wouldn't suprise me at all if he's not the only disturbed son of a—"_

_"Watch it, Uns—"_

_ "No, _you listen_ to me_," _Wayne Unser barked. "You and your team had your chance to get Joshua Kohn off the—"_

"Joshua," Jax mumbled under his breath, repeating the name as if the Waldo hidden within the picture would jump out at him.

_"—streets before he hurt anyone else! You stalled…you tried to cover it up and now it's not just Lowell Junior in the hospital. Now we've got another innocent teenage boy fighting for his life because your son ran him down with your ex-wife's truck!"_

"Oh my God," Chastity gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth. Her eyes were wide in horror when Jax turned his head to look at her. "He was talking to her at Stephanie's Christmas party. _Pearson_ was….and then he w-walked her to her…..he was crossing the street after walking Tara to her car when he got run over. I _knew _I recognized the truck…it was the Honda Lowell's cousin was driving when they showed up for your birthday breakfast….._Jesus Christ….._you think he hired someone to—"

"Where's the video?" Veronica interjected, angling her body towards the blonde sitting in the backseat next to her.

Chastity pulled the tiny cassette tape she'd smuggled from the evidence room from the breast pocket of her denim jacket, holding it out to Veronica who was already popping the Sony camcorder's compartment open. She snapped it shut, turning it sideways, the back of her neck pressing against the headrest of Jax's chair so that the two teenage boys in the front could watch with her.

_"What the Hell!" _Donna snapped, glaring into the camera aimed at her face. She mushed it away, stalking off. "_Seriously, enough with the damn camera, Chaz. You won't see your future as a filmmaker if I have to bludgeon you to death with your Christmas present!"_

_"I know what your problem is," _Chastity teased "_You just don't think you're photogen—"_

"Shut up!" Donna hissed, holding her hand up, squinted her eyes, her head tilting. "…._is that Tara?"_

The camera was facing the parking lot ground when Chastity dropped it at her side, following behind Donna and the rest of the nosy party guests walking around the corner to see what the commotion was in front of the the clubhouse.

Everyone in the car could hear Tara screaming at the top of her lungs.

"…._FUCKIN CONSIDERATION…..ALL THE TIME! NOT JUST WHEN HE WANTS TO FUCK ME OUT OF HIS SYSTEM!"_

Jax braced himself for what only he and Chastity knew was coming after Diane walked up to pull Tara off of Wendy.

Tires screeched and bullets started flying. The camera in her hand shook until it fell from her hands, dangling from the leather strap around her wrist, banging against the clubhouse door when Chastity ran to hide behind it.

Several seconds passed before there was video footage to go along with the semi-automatic gunshots, cursing and yelling—Chastity had raised a trembling hand, white knuckling the camcorder as she captured the single, worst moment Jackson Teller had ever experienced in his life since his brother died.

Chibs and Padraic tackling him to the ground, overpowering the screaming sixteen year old, dragging him out the camera's frame, back towards the clubhouse while Tara was dragged in the opposite direction—tossed in a van while Wendy and Diane stumbled over each other until a tall man in a black trench coat and top hat—

Veronica and Wallace's heads snapped up when Jax abruptly snatched the camera. Everyone watched as he scanned the buttons, pressing the one he was looking for—all three of them watching as the tape rewinded back.

"What, did you see something?" Veronica asked, voicing the question everyone else had. Instead of answering, Jax pressed |PLAY|, a word that up until recently, was starting to be his favorite. Three pairs of eyes ignored the camera in his hand, studying Jax's face instead—trying to figure out what he was thinking. Jax pressed |PAUSE|, freezing-framing the pivotal moment when two men threw Tara into the back of the van.

"Jackson?" Chastity slid forward, placing a hand on his forearm—instinctively flinching at the heat, the stiffness of his body, the rage slowly easing into his still features when he looked up at her.

Darkening blue eyes bounced from one blonde to the next, before he turned away from the backseat to reach for the handle of the passenger door, climbing out—camera still in his hand.

Three more doors flew open, the three teenagers trailing after him when he stalked around the corner, snatching up the helmet dangling from the handle bars of his Harley.

"What's go—_where are you going?" _Chastity exclaimed, standing in front of his bike as he threw his leg over.

"Thank you," Jax drawled, eyes touching on all three teenagers standing in front of him. He held the camera up to Chastity briefly before reaching to secure it inside the storage compartment behind him. _"I'm gonna hold onto this."_

* * *

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**_[FIV5]_****_ YEARS AGO…._**

"So," _Mary Winston said, tipping the tea kettle over the two mugs on the kitchen counter in front of her. "Where are you staying these days?"_

_"Thanks," Diane said, slipping her fingers through the wide handle of the steaming cup of tea Mary sat down on the table in front of her. "My car broke down in this small town called Neptune. Can you believe that? What kind of name is Neptune?"_

_Mary laughed with her, shaking her head. "No clue, sweetheart."_

_"Yeah," Diane said, smiling. "Well for some reason I ended up staying...I've been living there ever since...I been working on a Nursing Degree, too at the local community college. It's not UCLA but a degree's a degree I guess..."_

_Mary cocked an eyebrow. "I remember when you wanted to be a doctor...you had all these big plans. You were always going on about how you fell in love with the Big Apple...wanted to go to med school at Columbia...you'd even gotten Padraic to agree to switch to the NY charter so y'all didn't have to do long distance...I know it was probably me wanting to live vicariously through you...but I'd always hoped you wouldn't have to give up your dream for the life like all of us other Old ladies did...You and Pat always seemed__—"_

_"—well that's the problem with life, Mary," Diane interrupted, her voice hard. "Life isn't always what it _seems."

_"You were out," Mary commented. "There was nothing to stop you from still...and then you came back...only to run away again."_

_"I came back for _you!"

_Mary snorted, wincing at the boiling tea singing her tongue as she drank. "You don't even believe that."_

_Diane frowned. "When I got the news about my brother's car accident...I didn't even think twice about packing my stuff away in storage and coming back to check in on Art and Gracie….I guess a part of me was always hoping I'd find it in myself to come back...and to stay…that I could ignore all the ghosts chasing me for Tara and my brother's sake...Get him into rehab…have dinner in the oven for my niece when she came home from school...I didn't come back to make waves. I just wanted to be part of a family again. Any family."_

_Mary sighed, nodding in understanding. "And Clay ruined that just like he ruined everything else."_

_"When he threatened me," Diane replied, her expression darkening. "I was ready to swallow all the guilt I'd feel for getting Padraic and the rest of the club in trouble just for any shot at taking him down. That ATF agent…her card was burning in my back pocket. But I called _you _first. And….and when you told her you weren't willing to cooperate she reneged on my deal…she said her case was only strong enough with both of us."_

_Mary frowned then, her own guilt flashing in her eyes at the accusation. But there was also a subtle plea for understanding in her expression when she quietly addressed the twenty-one year old sitting across from her. _

"Did Gemma ever tell you about Piney's first wife?"_ When Diane shook her head, Mary's smile was slightly triumphant as she sat her coffee mug down. "Her name was Andrea_," _Mary told her. "She was one of the sweetest people you'd ever meet….she was a stunner too….still beautiful even after all the years of binging and relapsing no matter how many times she promised her husband she'd stay clean." _

_Mary chuckled, her laughter sardonic as she glanced down at wedding band on her finger, a ring she'd yet to break the habit of putting back on every morning despite the month's old divorce decree in the drawer of her nightstand. "You ever wondered why I tolerated Moira for so long? Gemma thought it was because of the life….thought I was one of the only Old ladies that would allow her old man to carry on with his side pussy even when he wasn't on a run. But the reality of it_ is...I used to _be _her_," Mary admitted, finally meeting her eyes. "I was the one that got away….Piermont and I were high school sweethearts…before graduation we had it all mapped out right down to our wedding and what room the nursery would be in….then his father was killed in action and… and Piney ended up enlisting and I decided I didn't want to wait around for the phone call to pick his body up…..I left him...came back almost eight years later…he was married by then…hooked up with Andy at some Jodi bar where he was stationed last...I wasn't back home more than a month before we were picking things up right back where we left off the night before I made him choose between having a life with me and honoring his father."_

_"So Piney left his wife for you," Diane commented quietly. "I'll probably sound like an airhead for saying this….but I think it's romantic…high school sweethearts finding their way back to each other after years apart..."_

_Mary smiled bitterly, casting her gaze down at the table between them. "His wife was pregnant when I came back," the guilt-ridden woman admitted. "I didn't find out until after we….and I was ready to walk away again...but I loved him….I never _stopped _loving him and he said all the right things….it was wrong...it was _so wrong _but it felt right…I wanted to hate myself for it…but I couldn't help how it made me feel the day he told me that I was the only woman he'd ever loved….that Andrea was just….she was just a sad timeout…something to fill the hole I left when I walked away...we didn't think about the consequences…but then, a man like Piney never does...until it's too late." _

_When Mary looked up her eyes were glassy—her tears reflecting guilt that couldn't quite overpower her contrasting smile of joy. "Andy relapsed," the crying mother confessed. "She overdosed the night she found out about us…. Piney came home to see her lying unconscious on his kitchen floor…She was….._she was six months pregnant."

_Diane clutched the cup in her hand tight. "Oh my God."_

_"I swear I never felt so goddamn guilty," Mary admitted. "For weeks Piney couldn't even look me in the eye…..that made it hard….that made it so hard for me to try to make up for what we did…for what our actions caused…."_

_Diane stretched her arm across the table, resting her hand on top of Mary's. "It wasn't your fault."_

_Mary smirked, a sardonic smile twitching the corners of her mouth. "That's what _she_ said to me that night when she came to see me," Mary admitted. "Those were the first words out of her mouth…right before she told me she was leaving….that she wasn't strong enough to take care of herself...let alone the beautiful baby boy fighting for his life in the NICU."_

_Diane sat up straighter in her chair, eyes widening. "Opie—"_

_"Is _MY _son," Mary growled, fierceness etched in every syllable. "Biology don't mean shit, and neither does any legal document I signed. I'm the only mother he's _ever _known. And when Piney tried to tell me I wasn't I got _pissed."

_Diane's eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets. "He said you weren't his mother?"_

_"I told him I was tired of sleeping with a colt .45 underneath my pillow," Mary responded. "I told him I was sick of living next door to his mistress, pretending it didn't bother me to watch him play surrogate father to her kid. And that was before that bitch had the audacity to tell me that they were leaving—that _he _was leaving the life for _her_."_

_Diane gasped. "Piney knows ab—"_

_"Of course he doesn't know," Mary snapped. "I don't know how the fuck not, since I figured it out as soon as she moved here. Child, I tell you…God can be a real twisted son of a bitch sometimes. What were the odds some waitress he met on a run to Chicago moving to the _same _town him and vet buddy chose to start their MC?"_

_"Well, if he didn't know why—"_

_"BECAUSE HE LOVED HER!" Mary yelled, slamming her hands down on the table. "He fell in love with some strange he picked up on the road. Your brother must have had some bad karma of his own or maybe Piney's just an excellent shot because I really can't wrap my head around a one n—you know what? It doesn't matter. All that ever _did_ matter was the fact that I was with him through it all. I took his son on as my own. And when shit got crazy with the club? I begged him….I _begged _him to get out but he wouldn't. Then here _she _comes and all of a sudden he's ready to cash out and run off with his soulmate like something out of a fuckin picture. Well, I'll tell you something. Karma? That bitch gets at _everybody…._And _Saint Moira _was no exception!"_

_Diane frowned, averting her misty-eyed gazed. "Cancer."_

_"That's right," Mary admitted. "She got sick….and for a long time I even felt guilty for all the nights I wished she'd drop dead when my husband came home from his _run…._from handling club business that only required _HIM _to leave for days at a time….you'd think he'd know I was smart enough to figure it out. After all, he did the same thing back when _I _was the mistress….Anyway….when she died…there was a part of me that wanted to work things out…but then all that shit happened with those Nazi assholes…and the Mayans and the club's been getting in even deeper with the Irish….shit's been getting bloodier every day…and so I asked him again….I asked the same thing of him that _she _did…I even gave him an ultimatum this time... either he gets out _with _his family….or his family was leaving him."_

_Diane nodded, finally understanding. "That's why he told you Opie wasn't yours."_

_"He told me I could leave if I wanted to but I wasn't taking _His _son anywhere," Mary shook her head. "I used to know that man like the back of my hand, but those last few months…I could barely get a read on him. He was still the straight shooter he's always been but….there were these moments when I couldn't tell what he was thinking…what he was feeling, what he could be _planning…._I had no idea who my husband was…..what he was capable of and I couldn't risk it….I didn't want Opie to become what his father is….explosive and…and ruthless….cold…I just knew I had to get him out anyway I could…even if it meant betraying a man whose only crime against _Me _was finding someone he loved more….for falling in love with a child—a sweet, innocent little girl, even though he has no idea she's his daughter..._I cut a deal," _Mary stated simply. "But part of it was getting you to sign on...I knew Arthur's been worst off since his wife died and I knew you'd jump at the opportunity to take Tara and start a new life…to at least have a part of your family back…but somehow…._somehow JT found out about it," _Mary told her. "Piney tracked me down in San Fran….I was in a park…babysitting for my new neighbor while she went into town for a job interview….He just walked right up and sat down on the bench next to me…waited until I was finished tying little Toby's shoe laces, then handed him a twenty dollar bill and told him to run and get him and his friends some ice cream from the truck across the road."_

_ Mary snickered, shaking her head at the memory. "He actually yelled out for the kids to _look both ways _when they reached the curb….then he told me it wasn't about the club…that it wasn't even just about his brothers," Mary said. "He admitted...he admitted that ever since Moira had passed...part of him felt responsible for Tara, too….he apologized for what he'd said….told me John found out about everything I'd been planning….that his best friend agreed to keep it from the club as long as I killed the deal."_

_Diane sighed. "That's why you backed out."_

_Mary shook her head, smiling. "I moved _here_ to be closer to him so Piney could spend time with his son as much as he wants to," she said. "He wants Opie to finish out the semester in Charming….and then we're gonna sit him down and tell him...my son's moving here with me…No strings…no rules, no conditions," Mary beamed. "There's only one thing he asks of me….to be a_ _good mother to _our_ son like I always have...well... that and take most of the heat when Opie turns eighteen and his father tells him he can't prospect for the club because it's not what_ We _want...I suppose Piney should practice saying that last bit in front of the mirror so he at least _looks _sincere..._."

_Diane laughed with her. "Yeah, I hope I'm around to witness _that."

"….You _could _be."

_Diane never got the chance to ask her what she meant._

* * *

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**PRESENT DAY**

Armando Timothy took a bite of the first strawberry, chuckling when she scowled as he offered it to her afterwards. Tossing it aside, he'd grabbed another from the carton—put it to her lips, grinning smugly when the grumbling in her empty, vodka-purged stomach had her mouth falling open. What the Hell kind of kidnapper gave their hostage fruit and water to eat? _A fuckin pervert, _was Tara's thought the whole time he fed her. Armen had a sleazy comment for every piece of fruit he lifted to her mouth, a smirk for every time Tara reflexively struggled against the duct tape binding her hands to the dirty, rusted wheelchair they tied her to as if she wanted to punch him in the face, or when her knees wobbled as if she was itching to kick him.

Tara wanted to do both.

But after the damage she'd done to the two men charged with keeping her still in the back of the van, Hector Salazar's Old lady advised that they secure her properly, citing that it would likely stop them from accidentally beating her scrappy ass to death before the ransom was paid.

"Almost finished, _Baby-doll._" Tara cringed, flashing back to the creepy assistant manager that used to leer at her every day during her very short time working at Monroe Market. Tara scowled at the banana he was slowly peeling in front of her, hating herself for wanting it. "Then you can drink your water," he said as the resentful brunette took her first bite. Staring at her chest, the demi-bra peeking out through the gap in her blouse where several buttons were missing, Armando added, _"And once you finish that…_I got another banana you might like..."

_You bring your filthy dick anywhere near my mouth, I won't give a shit if my final act on Earth is to bite it the fuck off._

Tara started to say it. And she was a couple more bites away from him putting the tape back over her mouth. Glaring at the denim-clad crotch at eye-level from where she sat, Tara swallowed the bits of mashed banana threatening to climb back up her throat when saw the slow rise tenting his jeans. Tara's head snapped back up, green eyes meeting an expression that confirmed what she was seeing.

"You like what you see, Baby?" Armando leered, dark eyes flitted down where she'd been staring seconds before.

There a war between nausea and rage, but both feelings were in a losing battle against Tara's will. Her will to play whatever angle she needed, to do whatever she had to, to get out of this alive, to save herself so Jax didn't have to try.

Because she knew he'd try.

He was probably losing his mind—the mad Hatter, helmet for a hat, riding around town with a vengeance. Doing exactly what Salazar probably expected from him. Tara knew men like him would want more than money for what John Teller had done—that they would _take _more. Eye for an eye wasn't a foreign concept and even if JT's MC hadn't caught on she knew Salazar and his crew, _and _the SOA members working with them had something else planned, something way worse than a twenty-million dollar payoff she highly doubted the club could even afford.

They could have found other ways to get in touch with the MC couldn't they? Of course they could. But they'd chosen to go through her—chosen to make contact through Jackson Teller, a sixteen year old kid who, according to Salazar himself, was the catalyst to all the animus between the two outlaw clubs. Something smelled off—and whatever it was wreaked worse than the chubby, sweaty Hispanic man leering appreciatively at her.

Tara sat up straight as she could in the wheelchair, forced the most desperate, contemplative expression she could muster on her face when she finally peeked up at him through her lashes. Tara swallowed hard, teeth briefly gnawing at her bottom lip before she quietly asked, "What if I _do? _Would you let me go?"

Armando tilted his head back as he laughed. Tara forced the instinctive flinch coiling through her limbs down when he reached for her blushing face, thumb brushing across her cheek. "Sorry, honey," Armando choked out, snickering. "There ain't a blowjob in the world worth twenty million dollars...not even from those pretty lips of yours."

Tara nodded, hanging her head. "Then may….m-m-maybe…..maybe you could just give me a break?" she mused aloud, green eyes flitting towards the duct tape binding her to the chair by her wrists. Her voice cracked, trembled evenly with the quiver in her pouting lip when she admitted even more quietly, "The tape was hurting me before but…now I can barely feel my hands."

"Something tells me yours feel a lot better than Kique's does after that smash-job you did kicking the van door closed on it."

"That was when I thought I had a shot at getting away on my own," Tara mumbled. "But Jackson, his….and P-p-piney they'll….they will…."

"Yeah?" Armando prompted when her sentence fell off.

Tara looked up at him then. "The club doesn't _have _twenty million dollars," Tara state boldly. "And your boss told me there's people in SAMCRO helping you."

"And?"

"That means they're betraying their _brothers," _Tara said, eyebrows rising. "What makes you think they're not gonna turn on you, too?"

"How'd we get off the subject of you sucking my—"

"_They're using you," _Tara told him. "The club probably knows about my aunt. They know she's married to a billionaire. They know he'll give them any money they want to get me back but they don't want to take the heat if the cops find out or if Duncan hires some _outlaw _muscle of his own. What do you think that makes _you? _And _Kique? _And your boss and his _bitch _wife? You're the scapegoat. Do you know what a scapegoat is?"

"Yeah, I know what a fuckin scapegoat is," Armando hissed. "Whatchu think I'm stupid just cuz I'm an outlaw?"

"I think you're stupid because you're going along with some bullshit plan that's going to get you killed before you even get to see what twenty million dollars looks like," Tara replied. "You're a criminal just like the rest of them. If you're a thief that means you'll lie. If you'll lie and steal, you'll kill, too. You can't be one without the other two and nowhere in that equation is their any room for _loyalty," _the cunning brunette stressed. "Be about _yourself. _Twenty million should last you a long time if you don't have to share it with anyone. Or maybe you shoot for _fifty _instead. I'm sure _Uncle Duncan _won't miss any of it."

Armando chuckled, pulled a gun from the holster at his waist, waved in front of her. "So what? You expect me to kill everyone and run off with you? Trade you for twenty mill—"

"_Or fifty—"_

"You really think it's that simple?" Armando continued, pointing a finger at her as he absently sat his gun down on the stool behind him. "You think I'm stupid enough to believe I could just walk away like _that? _You talk a good game, Mami. I could probably respect it a little more if you weren't insulting my intelligence."

* * *

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Diane's head jerked up at the subtle click of the door opening—wide-eyed alertness, angst and hope rolled into one, forming the most inquisitive expression she'd ever worn.

"Relax," Kozik told her, smiling when Padraic sped past him to sit in the reclining chair next to her bed. He smiled a little harder when the Scotsman scowled at the sight of him sitting on the edge of her bed. "I don't want your heart getting all skippy again. We need you conscious so you can listen."

"Did you find Tara?" Diane asked, slamming her finger hard against blue button on the side of her bed, raising the bed so she could sit up straighter.

Both SAMCRO bikers frowned, shaking their heads.

"Not exactly, Lovey," Padraic answered. "We know who has her but we don't know _where _yet. JT and Clay round up all the guys from the Nomad charter, and we've got more bodies in Arizona and Nevada all on standby, waiting for our call."

"Yeah, but we're hoping it doesn't come to that," Kozik explained.

Diane shook her head. "What do you mean you _hope?"_

"Darlin," Padraic said, offering her a measured smile. "We might not know where little Grace is right now but we know she's alive and the assholes who have her want twenty million dollars to get her back."

"Twenty million?" Diane gushed. "How the—why so—_does the club even have that kind of money?"_

"If everyone puts in we can pull together three, maybe a little more," Kozik admitted. "Most of its tied up but we could have made it work if they were willing to accept it."

"They're not," Padraic growled, glaring. "And we think it's because they might have found out about the suit you ran off and married."

"I don't need Duncan's money," Diane declared, glaring.

"Well _we _needed it," Kozik replied. "And he was happy to hand it over. He should be sitting down with JT any minute now. And Clay's running interference with Unser and the FBI which is really just us keeping his arrogant ass out of the way so he doesn't fuck up the plan. But you don't have to worry, Diane. We're not gonna let these assholes get away with this shit."

"_Aye_," Padraic nodded, eyeing her suspiciously. "And what we can't _accomplish _I'm sure your husband the suit will get it done for ya..."

Diane read his expression clearly, sighing deeply as she turned towards the biker sitting on her bed. "Herm…._could you give us a minute?"_

Kozik's eyes were locked with hers, a silent message passing between them before he finally nodded, rising up from the bed—leaning over to kiss her forehead. "Everything's gonna be okay, Fidget…..you and Tara both….it's not just me now…._we _got you."

Diane grabbed his hand, squeezing it briefly before letting it go.

Padraic was sitting right in the spot he'd vacated on the bed before the room door snapped all the way shut.

"Padr—"

"After the ambulance came," Padraic interrupted. "After they drove off with you, your old...your _husband_ came by the clubhouse….._demanded_ to know what happened…what the club had been involved with…asking a shittee load of questions we didn't have any plans on answering….when JT told him to go….when he told him that we would handle it? _He looked directly at me…._the whole time he was sitting glaring at me when he told us he was going to be involved with or _without _our cooperation…said history seemed to be repeating itself and he wasn't going to stand on the sidelines while we let _another _innocent girl get hurt by one of our enemies because of her _connection_ to us….._what's he talking about, Di?_"

She didn't look down at her lap, didn't avert her teary-eyed gaze to a spot on the walls behind him—Diane looked straight at him. She met the fear in his eyes, the untapped rage and despair looming behind the mask.

"I had no idea what the club was mixed up in back then_," _Diane said quietly. "I knew you guys were at war and it was all the usual bloodshed and fighting over power and turf, but I never knew the specifics…I was the Old lady that stuck her head in the sand…always too afraid to ask….scared of what you might tell me…scared of what would happened to us when you lied about whatever it was or…what kind of person it would make me when I found a way to rationalize all of it…the _mayhem…._the violence….should have known sooner or later…that….that…"

"Diane," Padraic urged. _"…please."_

"You were _gone," _Diane half-whispered. "I don't know what Clay had you doing with that Polly girl or why but you left me, Pat. And while you were handling _business _for the club, I was being strung up to a fence in some warehouse...listening to_ Clay_ give the okay for those men to do whatever they wanted to me...He didn't give a _shit…_and when Dewey let me go, your _club brother _didn't have an apology waiting for me….all he had were _threats…_I guess he didn't think I'd been through enough…_"_

"No…._Di…..Christ, Baby…no…" _The mask was gone, the damn caved in on itself, crushed under the weight of the words that finally completed the infuriating puzzle he'd been trying to piece together ever since she left him seven years ago.

Diane nodded her head, squeezing the hand that reached for hers tightly—holding on for dear life. He was a port in the storm of truth threatening to pull her under, to drown her in her own tears. "I spent those last few months in Charming hating _everyone," _Diane confessed. "I hated_ you_ for not being there when I needed you….I hated every smile, all the laughter surrounding me at every clubhouse rager where I tried to play the role Clay gave me….And _Gemma…_I hated her for loving the man who let them hurt me….the man who could have saved—" Diane flinched back when the bed shook. His eyes were darkening more and more with every blink, cheeks jumping as he clenched his jaw tight as the fist he'd unconsciously slammed hard against the bed frame. "….it was supposed to be _her, _Pat…they were going to take Gemma….crush the matriarch…teach SAMCRO a lesson but I w-was…._I was driving her car and they…._they didn't want twenty million dollars, Padraic," Diane sobbed. "They wanted Clay to agree to their terms…and I'm not saying it was a g-g-guara—a _guarantee…._but there was no way of knowing if they would have done it anyway…there was no way of knowing because he didn't even _try _to save me….I don't know if I _killed _your baby…I don't know because there was no way of knowing if it was yours or one of theirs….Jesus…..they _raped _me, Padraic…all three of them…more than once and when I turned up at the hospital…instead of dead in some _ditch…._Clay told me I was taking one for the team….he threatened to kill you and make it look like an accident….I always knew you couldn't trust him…I knew he was selfish and dangerous…._all _of you are but….but all these years have gone by and I can't shake the question that's been on my mind every time I look in her face….what if the _right_ person was driving that night….what if the owner was the one behind the wheel….would Clay have made _her _take one for the team? What if _Gemma _was the one who got raped on Clay's watch? Would the story end the same? _Or would the man _YOU _share a patch with have written a different book?"_

* * *

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No one said a word when they walked through the Chapel doors to see John Teller sitting at the head of the table for the first time since his accident. One by one, bikers—full patches and Prospects rounded the table to take their seats.

Kozik came in last, shutting the door behind him.

"Where's Paddy?" Chibs asked him, frowning as he shut the doors.

Kozik smirked. "Where do you think?"

JT chuckled, shaking his head knowingly. "It's fine," he said. "We can fill him in on the plan later."

"Are we gonna fill _Clay_ in, too?" Greg hedged, indirectly addressing the elephant in the room.

"Clay's got his own task," JT responded, expressionless as always.

"Listen up," said the gruff man sitting beside him at the head of the table. Piney's eyes touched everyone as he announced to all those out of the loop. "We got the twenty million…this Duncan guy—"

Jax didn't shove his way into the room this time.

The double doors opened slowly, Jax walked in, fully armed once again—but this time it wasn't a loaded gun in his hand.

"Son," JT grunted out. "Things are falling into place...things are coming together but every patch sitting around this table needs to be focused if we're gonna get Tara back here safe—"

"_She'll never be safe from your club."_

"Oh here we fuckin go again," Opie grumbled, glaring at him.

Jax turned towards his best friend. "You want me to stop flying off the fuckin handle? Well that's an easy fix, _brutha." _Jax nodded towards the man sitting in the chair next to Opie. "Just do us both a favor and ask your friend the cripple where Tara is."

Gregory's eyes darted from the fellow Nomad sitting next to him, to the man sitting in front of the gavel—staring bug-eyed as he waved a hand towards JT's eerily calm, sixteen year old son. "_The fuck is this kid talking about?"_

Jax smirked, shaking his head. "The look on your face right now? That just tells me I'm right in believing you and all the other Nomads are way too fuckin stupid to pull this shit off on your own. You got no ties in Redwood _except _with C—"

"The fuck you know about our ties?" Brady sneered, eyeing him up and down. "You really think you being JT's son makes it okay for you to say or do whatever fuck you want? The Sons of Anarachy MC is a Hell of a lot bigger than just Redwood these days. Our organization is worldwide and I'm happy to tell you, you spoiled little shithead, your Old man can't save you from ev—"

"If I were _you," _Jax yelled, voice rising above his. "I'd be more focus on whose gonna save you from what you got coming to you for extorting your own _organization _and kidnapping a fifteen year old girl."

"Enough, Jackson." JT grimaced at his son, disappointment clear in his eyes to anyone who looked at him.

Jax nodded once, his most biting smile yet curling his upper-lip when he powered up the camera in his hand, eyebrows rising as he held the camcorder up to his father in gesture—right before he handed it to the one person who could always push their personal shit aside to have his back when the time came.

Opie eyed the camera in his hand, quizzically. "What the fuck you want me to do with this? "

"_Jackson,"_ Kozik and Bobby said, speaking at the same time.

"Look, Son," Bobby told him. "I know you're worried about your girl but _we got this…_you need to let us work."

"This shit is gettin ridiculous, Jackie," Chibs added, shaking his head.

"You wanna prospect?" Kozik joined in. "There's not a member at this table that wouldn't sponsor you, including your Old man. If you want in, you gotta own it. And if not, we'll continue to respect it but _you _need to accept the fact that this Chapel ain't the place for you to be when we're handling _our _shit."

"You either a part of us or you ain't," Tig cosigned, scowling at him. "You're _not _so whatever club business we—"

"TARA'S NOT CLUB BUSINESS!" Jax bellowed, finally losing his composure. Steeling his eyes at Opie, he demanded, "Press |PLAY| right fuckin now or I swear I'll handle this shit exactly the way _I _want to—_mother-fuck _res—"

"This is why Redwood is a running _joke _to all the other charters," Gregory said, standing up from his seat. "I'll see y'all at the drop. Just call the prepaid and tell me when and—"

_"Where?"_ Jax finished for him, shoving him back into the chair he'd just jumped up from. "Right _here, _asshole, _that's _where! _Don't you fuckin move!"_

"JACKSON NATH—"

Jax spun around to glower at his standing father. "THE NOMADS ARE WORKING WITH SALAZAR!" the enraged teen yelled. He snatched the camera from Opie, who had still refused to listen to him—launching it at his father. "I GOT IT RIGHT THERE ON VIDEO! _This_ hobbling ass, gimp motherfucker throwing her in the back of the van. _Look at his foot!_"

"This is bullshit!" Gregory snapped, jumping up again. "Your son is fuckin nutjob!"

"Maybe," Jax sneered, leaning closer to him. "But I know I didn't fuckin imagine seeing you—"

Brady jumped up with him then, both men drawing their weapons—one of them aimed at Jax, while the other waved left to right at all the other men, the _Redwood Original _patches and their Prospects who had also pulled their weapons.

The room was silent, Jax studied his father's expression—him and Opie both watching the founding President's expression as he hit |PLAY| on the camera. There was no way to tell at what point he actually saw what Jax was trying to show him.

JT's face never changed—even when he finally looked up to ask the only question Jackson Teller wanted an answer to.

"Where are you keeping the girl?" JT ask calmly, looking between the two men. Both looked at each other, guns still raised despite them being both outnumbered and outgunned.

"What the Hell are you talking about, man?" Gregory stammered, beady eyes bouncing around the room, sweat dripping down his face. "We don't have anything to do—"

"STOP FUCKIN LYING!" Jax screamed, lashing out hard with his foot. Greg the Peg stumbled sideways, his prosthetic leg snapped in the center where Jax's foot landed. Jax caught him before he fell, but only so he didn't have to bend over to hold the knife he snatched from the Nomad's waist to his throat. "_WHEREE IS SHE?!"_

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

Armando watched as all of the confidence she'd maintained during her failed pitch was gone—leaving her completely drained of even the hint of hopefulness he'd seen her eyes as he listened to her ambitious speech. He pressed three fingers under her chin, raising her face until Tara reluctantly looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes.

"_I just wanna go home," _Tara mumbled. "I don't want to die…I want to make it out of this…I _have _to….I just got my aunt back….my father finally stopped drinking and he's…. he's starting to be my dad again….and…and I'm finally starting to have a family now," Tara lamented, squeezing her eyes tight against the tears flowing, lids flying open seconds later, pure contempt and rage flashing in the emerald green. "_SAMCRO isn't my fuckin family," _she hissed. "You should have took Jackson instead….You think his family gives a _shit _about me? You really think his Old man is losing any sleep knowing I'm gone? _Jackson _doesn't even give a fuck about me. All this shit is, is a pissing contest. It's the _principle. _I could just easily be...be _Wendy. _All they care about is the fact that you threatened them. Twenty million _bullets _is all those asshole have waiting for you, trust me. And as soon as your boss finds out? As soon as he realizes that he bet on the wrong fuckin horse? _He's gonna kill me….Oh God," _Tara croaked, shaking her head fast, her face twisting in horror, green eyes widening. "_Oh my God, _he's gonna kill me…or _you're _gonna kill me….or his wife….or maybe you'll torture me first then kill me..._and it won't matter to ANY _of them," Tara told him, crying "I care about people that don't give a shit about me because I'm pathetic. And I loved all the people that are….that are _so fuckin bad for me…._all the time. ALL THE FUCKIN—"

"Hey, hey, hey" Armando braced his hands against her trembling shoulders. "Calm the fuck down, a'ight! Quit all that convulsing and shit...look like my cousin Carmen when she's having a seizure!" He reached towards her right hand, glaring at the thick strip of tape he pulled from around her wrist as he told her, "I still got another hour before its _Luisa's _turn to deal with you…_there," _he said, nodding at the hand he let free. "Twenty minutes," he told her, looking at the hand still taped down, "then I'll switch it with the other one. No funny business, bitch. This part of the job's a Helluva lot more entertaining without the tape over your mouth and in spite of my line of business I really don't enjoy beating the shit out women…_Yaya _taught me better than that." Armando pointed towards the gun behind him, leaning closer to Tara's face when he added, "That don't mean I won't do what I have to do though, understand?"

It was strange the way the mind works at times.

There she was, a chair-bound captive in some dusty cabin basement, being held for a ransom she was fairly certain the club would never come up with—and Tara was thinking about the COSMOPOLITAN Magazine she'd found at the mall. More specifically an article on College campus rape survivors.

Tara's expression was blank as she nodded, the last of her falling tears sliding down her face slowly—at the same speed of her right hand, in sync with the fingers curving in ever so slightly as Tara ran her free hand up and down thigh. As her palm languidly rose higher, as it slid over to his groin. "_Thank you," _Tara half-whispered, cupping him through his jeans. Her eyes were locked with his as she hooked her thumb underneath the denim flap, as she pinched the zipper underneath it between her fingers. When she pulled his jeans open, when she shimmied them down just enough his eyes fluttered closed.

It almost made her sad that he didn't get to watch her face change.

She didn't miss his.

Tara stayed true to her thoughts when the first lewd comment slipped past his smirking lips.

She bit down as hard as she could, right hand reaching for his hip at the same time.

Armando howled in pain, reflexively knocking her hard in the face—clutching himself through his boxers as the wheelchair flipped backwards.

"YOU FUCKING _BITCH!"_

When Tara fell back, the KA-BAR she'd been thinking about ever since he walked over to her—the knife that had been hanging from a holster on his waist held firm in her white-knuckling grip.

Blood trickled down her calves, it oozed from her left wrist—self-mutilation she didn't even feel as the knife slashed through her skin when Tara hastily freed herself from the tape. Armando was lunging, and Tara was praying to God it worked as she skirted backwards, banging the back of her head hard against the basement wall when she kicked the fallen wheelchair with all she had, tripping him. Armando banged his chin hard against the concrete but he sprung up on his arms quickly, grabbing at the knife in her hand—catching the wrong end of it, howling in pain again when Tara bit his nose, the sharp knife cutting deep into his palm when he snatched it back. Tara jumped on him, baring all her weight on his head until she was straddling his neck, wielding the knife against his back, aiming for the center—the dark red line labeled the spinal cord in her A &amp; P textbook.

Tara ignored the throbbing pain shooting through the tips of her toes, running barefoot around him—grabbed the gun she had no idea how to use, shoved into the rotting hole on the third bottom stair, the hole one of the guys twisted their ankle in dragging her down the stairs.

Tara stopped short of the closed basement door, slid her back against the wall, not even daring to breathe in and out when she heard footsteps approaching.

"_Armando?" _Luisa Salazar called out from the floor above. "What the fuck are you doing?" Her voice drew closer. "I swear to God if this motherfucker is sleeping when he supposed"—Luisa shoved the basement door open, gun in her hand tapping against her thigh. Soon as she walked past, soon as she got close enough in front of Tara kicked her hard in her backk, sending her tumbling down the steps. Tara didn't stick around long enough to hear the snap of her neck. She ran up from the basement, stabbing the first thing she saw moving—lodging the blade into something tough.

His shoulder.

The tall, beefy biker barely grunted at the knife sticking into collarbone, reached for her—spun her around, slammed her against the end table, the sharp edge slicing through her side. Tara cried out in pain, but the yelp was drown out by the gunfire suddenly erupting outside, the thud of bodies dropping out on the porch.

All of it happened so fast.

Tara screamed, squeezing her eyes shut as the blood splattered onto her face, as the giant of a man that had been holding her collapsed, crushing her against the wall. She shoved him off, struggling to free herself of the dead weight, dropping to the floor, crawling over him—pausing to empty her stomach of everything she'd eaten at the sight of the man's brain matter oozing out onto the carpet.

The unmistakable squeak of the screen door sent her ducking for cover behind the ugly, worn green sofa in the center of cabin living room. She tried to quiet her breathing, green eyes scanned the floor hopelessly for the knife but she couldn't see where it flew to. The footsteps drew closer—every clunk of shoes against the floor unhurried, until they finally stopped. Red flashed in the corner of her eyes, something tickled her pinky finger. Tara braved a glance towards her right hand, eyes narrowing in confusion at the flaming red-orange wig on the floor next to her. Tara looked up at him then.

Her scream caught in her throat—crippling fear and shock and confusion paralyzed her, stopped her moving an inch, from flinching even as he slowly squatted down in front of her, lightly brushing the back of his hand across her cheek.

"I am _so _sorry, _Tar-Tar," _Joshua told her, smiling sheepishly. "I got here as soon as I could. I didn't want you hurt but I had to be patient... _Patience _is the key with you. And now…._you're mine," _he told her, brushing her hair back. "You don't have to worry about anybody hurting you again, Tare. We're going to be together now. I'll protect you...I'm going to protect you from _everyone."_

* * *

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**|FIVE| YEARS AGO…**

_Clay pulled the gun from the holster inside his kutte, aiming it towards her quick as a hiccup—no flinching, no brief second of hesitation, no regret in his eyes as the third and final bullet tore through Mary Winston's chest, killing her. _

_Gemma screamed at the top of her lungs, hands smacking over her mouth. She pulled hard at her hair, her nails dug into her tear-soaked cheeks as she raked them roughly down her face. "Jesus Christ," Gemma choked out. "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!"_

_"Baby, listen to me—"_

_"YOU KILLED HER!" Gemma cried, shoving him away from her. She lunged at him—clawed her nails into his wrist, breaking the skin. She kneed him hard in his groin, snatched the gun in his hand from his loosening grip._

_Clay grunted, crumbling in pain when she kicked him with all the strength she had—repeatedly until her knees finally buckled under the soul-crushing weight of his actions, of what she witnessed, of what she lost._

_Gemma leaned on the kitchen table for support, slowly eased her way into the chair behind her—wheezing through the sobs wracking through her body. "You said you…..you said you were gonna…you _promised _me….you said you would LET ME TALK TO HER! YOU SAID YOU WOULD LET HER EXPLAIN!"_

_"I know, I know," Clay crooned, leaning back against the wall, staring up at the grief-stricken woman holding his revolver, resting it against her thigh. "But baby, the truth is…there was never anything for her to explain. You couldn't talk her down from this. It was too l—"_

"You don't know that!" _Gemma screeched, aiming the gun at his face. "You didn't even give me a chance! _Or her! _All she wanted was her son! That was ALL she wanted and she jumped at the only way she could see to get him out!"_

_"OUT!" Clay bellowed. "That's right, Gemma! Mary wanted out! She's had a foot out of the door for a long time now. But she could have walked away clean. She _chose _to—"_

_"She didn't make the deal," Gemma growled. "Mary would _never _rat! It was a fuckin power play! Why do _you _think he didn't say anything about it?"_

_"Piney didn't bring it to the table for the same reason you're pointing that gun at me, Gem. He still loved her….and he….he didn't want—"_

_"BULLSHIT!" Gemma raged, kicking out at the soles of his boot. "If Piney loved her so much he wouldn't have been balls deep in his next door neighbor every night…..all those _weekend runs _that didn't have shit to do with the club. She _KNEW _Clay! Mary got sick of turning a blind eye to disrespect! Tired of pretending she didn't know the rules were being broken! The shit Piney was doing behind her back wasn't happening on a _run! _And it was more than body shots and a blowjob every night! Mary got fed up and she told that whore Moira the next time she saw her _smile _in her Old man's direction…she was gonna shove the barrel of her colt .45 straight up her bony ass and blow her heart out! That was when she told her….THAT FUCKIN CANCER BITCH TOLD MARY THAT LITTLE BASTARD WAS PINEY'S DAUGHTER! She bragged all about how they met, how much he loved _her, _that he was going to leave SAMCRO for _her, _that the only reason he hadn't left already is because he had no idea Tara was his. Piney TWISTED HER UP! She wasn't...she wasn't _thinking_ right but she'd never really make a deal. She just wanted out….and just like any good mother she wasn't leaving without her son."_

_"It had to be done, Gemma," Clay told her, shaking his head. "….I know how much you loved her…I love her _too, _Baby….but she was going to hurt a lot of other people we love…she was going to hurt _us…._she was going to tear our whole family apart. _She made the deal. _I have proof. I didn't do this lightly. I swear to God, Gemma….Unser's source checked out. Mary was gonna rat on the club. Piney knows the truth…and he didn't have the heart to go through with it….so I did it for him…and I vowed to never tell a soul…Opie will _never _find out about his mother's betrayal…or the hard choice his father had to make for the good of his family."_

_Gemma launched the gun, across the room, burying her face in her hands—screaming in frustration against her palms. Clay could feel her tremors rocking through her system when he slowly eased up from the floor, kneeling in front of her, gently pulling her hands away from her face. _

_This shit wasn't on Clay._

_It was on that bitch Moira Knowles and her bastard daughter._

_Gemma looked up at him, tears drenching her face, snot shining at the corners of her nose. "How am I supposed to live with his?" she croaked. "She was my…she was the closest thing I had to a—"_

_"_I know, Baby." _Clay cupped her face, his other hand gripping her waist. "I am….so…._sorry _this had to happen…but you'll get through this…we'll get through this…we just need to stay strong, stick together….._you and me, no matter what."

* * *

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**PRESENT DAY**

"YOU'RE A LYING SON OF A BITCH!" Gemma'd screamed, firing the gun in her hand.

Gemma Teller had never missed a target in her life until then.

She was off her game—she was drunk on whiskey, high off the weed she'd found stashed in his bedroom nightstand where she'd taken the revolver she knew he always kept at his bedside. Several hours had past, and Gemma still sat there, drowning in her own anguish, stewing impatiently until he'd finally arrived.

Clay shoved through his front door, aiming his gun, swerving it left to right as he slowly made his way towards his kitchen. He'd lowered his weapon at the sight of Gemma slumped in the chair at the head his dining room table, smoking a cigarette.

Big mistake.

Gemma raised the gun she'd had hidden under the table, forcing him to toss his own, forcing him to sit down at her right hand while she read him for filth about all the lies he told her—all the secrets that had been unearthed.

All the years she'd spent wondering where she'd went wrong with the one Knowles woman she didn't hate on sight, the one bright spot in a family that had run off the closest thing she had to a maternal figure.

Diane Knowles didn't crash her car, she didn't lose her shit, crumbling under the pressure of the club life. When Gemma spotted her hiding in the hallway closet the night Mary was killed, she hadn't been there to plot on how to take down the outlaw family she chose to abandon years before.

Diane hadn't abandoned anyone.

She was raped.

Mary didn't rat.

Clay killed her just to be safe she wouldn't change her mind again.

And she'd gone along with every twisted deception, buried all of the harsh truths.

It was tit for tat, pot meets kettle—a battle of _who fucked up the most_, who betrayed who first, who was _really _at fault—until Gemma couldn't take any more excuses, any more pointed fingers at her own actions, at the choices she'd signed off on years before she knew the whole story about everything.

Clay saw the intent flash in her eyes before she raised the gun. He lunged for her arm, several bullets piercing through the wall before he wrestled the weapon from her hand, busting her nose when he smacked her hard across the face with it.

Clay knocked her backwards, the chair she sat in flipping over. He kicked it out of the way—out of _his _way, kneeling on top of her stomach, angry fists slamming hard against her face, blood pouring from her nose and mouth and the open cut above her eyebrow as the brass rings on his fingers cut through her skin. "You should have stuck by me, Gem," Clay growled, unclenching his fists to reach for her throat. Clay towered over her, glaring in her face, drinking in her bug-eyed expression with no remorse as she struggled to stop him from him choking her.

Gemma's hand scrambled for his waist—yanked the KA-BAR hanging from it and used what could have been her final breath to stab hard as she could at his side. The two seconds that his grip loosened was all she needed to snake her arms between his knocking them off, reaching up for his face, pressing his thumbs hard into his eyes.

Clay veered back, Gemma sat up quickly—but he was already reaching for the knife she'd dropped in her haste to get off the floor. He slammed her back down hard, holding the blade to her throat. Tiny droplets of blood peppered the crease in her neck as he watched all hopes of survival die in her eyes.

_BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG._

Someone was banging on his front door like they were the fuckin police.

_"CHARMING P.D!" _shouted a voice. _"OPEN UP!"_

They were.

Clay was still contemplating his options when the door was kicked in, when several different pairs of footsteps trampled through his house until they finally found him in the kitchen, hands raised above his head—a knife, a gun and a severely beaten woman on the floor, at this feet.

Deputy Adrian Byrd walked towards him, stepping around to pull his hands behind his back, slapping the handcuffs on while his partner Deputy Palmer checked Gemma's vitals, calling for an ambulance, while two San juan county policemen collected both weapons.

"Clay Morrow," Deputy Byrd said, pushing him forward. "You're under arrest for the murder of Donald Levin—"

_"Donald?" _Clay barked, struggling to look back at the arresting officer.

"—you have the right to remain silent, anything—"

_"I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO THE FUCK THAT IS!"_

"—against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney, if you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you…."

* * *

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The Sun was just starting to go down.

They'd parked their Harleys all the way at the end the road, crept their way towards the cabin through the trees. Tactical, trigger-fingers ready to pull—Jax and his father's club stopped short, just as they reached the front porch where the first three bodies were—one of them, the body Frankie Diamonds.

The gun began to feel heavier in Jax's hand, his fingers going numb—his whole body freezing as he slowly continued the path inside with everyone else.

A fat Mexican man crumpled on the floor—the blood soaking into the carpet around his head was scarlet red, several shades darker than the red-orange wig on the floor behind the sofa.

"DOWN HERE!" Jason called from the basement.

The Prospect couldn't have been more misleading with his words. Opie, Jax and Piney slammed into each other—getting caught in the average-door sized entryway to the cabin's kitchen as the three of them rushed ahead of everyone else still in the living room.

Piney cleared first, Opie trailing closely behind him—father and son stopping at the bottom basement step. Jax took the stairs three at a time, bumping into Opie when he, too stopped short—the first glance of the dead female with dark brown hair, face down next to the steps. It wasn't until Jax caught the butterfly tattoo on the woman's left shoulder-blade that he was able to breathe again. It wasn't Tara, she didn't have a tattoo on her back.

But Tara wasn't "down here".

Noting the look on their faces, Jason's cheeks reddened—he pointed towards the flipped over chair with duct tape stuck to the arms on both sides in the far corner of the basement. "Looks like this is where they kept her," Jason clarified as several pairs of biker boots trampled down the stairs.

"GODDAMN IT!" Opie yelled, kicking the wooden railing of the staircase. He didn't even feel the pain from the splintering wood digging into the skin of his ankle when two of the middle posts collapsed inward.

Happy was closest to the top on the staircase—scowling down at the scene before them. "Salazar's not here...but we found three more with ink from his crew dead around the back," he growled. "Looks like him and Clay might have changed the plan...less people...more money to split."

Piney looked up at the silent, pensive man standing on the step between Happy and Chibs. "You can call a vote on this shit all you want," he barked. "No more _planning_. That motherfucker Clay is dead soon as I lay eyes on his ass. I'm DONE waiting!"

"No worries, Brutha," Chibs commented, snapping his cell phone shut after reading a text message. "_The wait is_ over...Kyle gave his statement."

Jax walked towards the man lying face down, blood soaked into the back of his shirt. As he drew closer, Jax noticed several things.

The man's fingers started twitching, his neck trembling, lacking the strength or the capability to pick his head up or turn it towards him. The SAMCRO men at the stairs followed behind him as Jax knelt down, pushing against the man's shoulder, turning him on his back.

That was when Jax noticed that his jeans were open, hanging off his hips—the crotch of his exposed boxers wet, tiny spots of blood around the slit of them. Even if there was venom dripping from every tooth in his mouth, Jax was still smiling proudly when he nodded towards his groin. _"She do that to you?"_

"Where is she?" Opie barked, standing beside him. "Who took her?"

"_Please," _Armando begged, eyes blinking fast, blood painting his lips, his tongue, his teeth. It was the only English word they got out of him. Every question they asked—variations of the same one repeatedly—was responded with a string of slurred Spanish as the man faded in and out, until they finally gave up on getting any information.

Until Opie raised the gun in his hand in anger and fired twice—for the first time where it wasn't kill or be killed. Piney clapped a hand on his shoulder, glaring at the limp, lifeless man as he gently pulled the gun from his sixteen year old son's shaky, trembling hand.

Until Jax's legs went numb, until he slowly lowered himself to the ground, staring blankly, glassily at the overturned wheelchair.

It was a rapid descend—a retreat into the same cold, dark shell threatening to swallow him whole when Tara grabbed a hold of his hand the night of his father's accident.

Tara was gone.

Who could pull him back from this?

"_Get up, Jackson," _John Teller said, pulling his son up with more than his words. Releasing the grip on his arms, JT pressed his palms to either side of his son's colorless face. JT was tired of making him promises he didn't keep, and he had no way of guaranteeing this chapter of his son's life would end happy—that _"We'll find her,"_ the words he _wanted_ to say would come to be the truth. There was only one assurance he could provide the dejected, blue-eyed boy looking through him, and he didn't need actual words to convey it. Jackson needed to know that no matter what happened, his father would be there to help him get through it, Kutte or no Kutte because he loved him more than Jax could ever resent him.

And pressing a kiss to his son's forehead, wrapping him up in a hug tight enough to soothe the tremors of suppressed sobs wracking through him was as good as any verbal declaration could have been.

* * *

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_"….Guess that I am _just _a hopeless caaaase….can't get used to losing you, no matter what I try to do, gonna spend my…"—_Joshua stopped singing, tilting his head as he studied the blank expression on the green-eyed brunette sitting at the table next to him. "What's wrong, Tar-tar?" he asked, glancing down at the plate in front of her. "You haven't touched your food. You cook lasagna all the time..._I thought it was your favorite."_

Hysterical laughter bubbled up from Tara's throat, forcing the sob she'd been trying desperately to suppress closer to the surface. Joshua didn't like it when she sobbed.

_"Stop crying you ungrateful, Bitch!" _Joshua slapped her across the face. "I saved your life, how about some fuckin appreciation!"

He didn't like it all.

Tara flinched when he raised his hand to her again, metal digging into her left wrist once again when she reflexively moved to jump away only to be smacked with the frightening reality of her situation—the handcuffs shackling her to the chair where she sat.

"_I'm-sorry-I'm-sorry!" _Tara shrieked when she saw his cold, blue eyes flit towards the gun down in his lap. "I just….my hand is really hurting and I….I really have to pee."

"_The more you cry the less you pee,_" Joshua chanted, shaking his head, smiling at her. "That's why my mother said to me when I started crying the day she kicked my father out! _My God, Tare..._all the crying you've been doing I find it hard to _believe_ you have to pee."

Joshua was smiling—he was amused, happy again.

Happy was good, very good.

"_Please," _Tara begged, hoping he'd give in a fourth time. She didn't have any chance of escaping but she could at least get another five minutes with more distance between them. "I real—"

"Oookay," Joshua chimed, slipping his gun back in the holster on his waist before standing up. He unlocked the cuffs, gripping her arm as he guided her towards the bathroom. Tara winced when he unknowingly brushed against the throbbing bruise on her side from the second time she tried and failed to get away from him, indirectly resulting in the sudden death of the motel manager who was now neatly tucked underneath the desk he was supposed to be manning should any guest drive through looking for accommodations.

_"You know, Tar-tar…..since you don't seem to have much of an appetite, maybe you should just take your shower now, then you can some rest. Big day tomorrow for you and I…_.I can't wait!_ I promise you're gonna love it, sweetheart…I've spent months planning it….it's going to be _perfect…._Every corner of this hick town, all people can talk about is _Prince Teller _and his girlfriend….the infamous heir to the redneck biker throne…the future King of charming and his _Princess_. But they don't know where your heart really lies, Tar-tar…and I _understand…_it's okay because I know it took you a while to realize it, too…."_

Tara took a deep breath before opening the bathroom door back. "Where are you taking me?" she asked, flatly.

Joshua's smile widened, his arms outstretched, head shaking. "We can go anywhere you want to, Sweetie. _I _planned our wedding, so you get to pick the honeymoon!" Joshua caught her reaction before Tara could remember to fix her face, to control expression. "Why'd you look at me that way, Tar-tar? Don't you want to get married? Please don't say _No. _That would upset me…and I _hate_ being around you when I'm upset…."

Tara forced herself not to step back when he approached her, commanded her body not to flinch when he reached for her face, cupping her chin. "Of course I want to marry you, _Joshie," _Tara said, nodding so fast her brain was rattling inside her head. "But I don't need a fancy wedding. All we need is each other…and the courthouse! We can drive down their right now…or…or we can even go to Vegas if you want something a little fancier. It doesn't matter to me," she told him, smiling so hard, the corners of her mouth burned.

Joshua shook his head, brushing her hair back. "You deserve the best," he said. "And I want the _world _to know…I want everyone in Charming to _know _how much we love each other…how special you are to me, and me to _you…_trust me, Tar-tar, you're going to enjoy every second of our perfect day."

"Our wedding's tomorrow?"

Joshua nodded excitedly, stepping a little closer to her.

That was when she got a clear view of the bed behind him.

He'd brought everything.

Her vanilla honey shampoo, her shower gel, her brush and comb, her toothbrush, the romance novel she'd borrowed from the library that she'd torn pages from and launched across the room. And right in the center of the bed was her nightwear. But it wasn't even the panties and bra that disturbed her the most. It was the pajamas underneath it. Purple, with multi-colored hearts—her favorites. The pair that had gone missing two weeks earlier.

Only his lips on her neck could have snapped her out the Fugue State threatening to swallow her whole as she stood there, trying to calculate in her head how crazy he was the first time she ever saw him—that day at the mall, when Jax accused him of running into her purposely.

Tara couldn't resist stepping back then though.

She didn't even want his hands on her, let alone his lips.

Joshua ignored the blaring message in her retreat, continuing to close the gap between them until Tara's back was up against the wall. "Come on now, Tar-tar," Joshua crooned, sliding the straps of the bra underneath her shirt down off her shoulders. "I've been so patient with you…..I've waited _three years_ for this moment…I have been _such _a gentleman…I think it's time...for some _intimacy."_

"ME, TOO!" Tara shrieked louder than she'd intended as she pressed her hands against his chest. "I really want to be with you, too! But I've been f-f-f-fighting it…for _sooo _long—"

"I know, but now we can—"

_"When I met you I knew it was the real thing,"_ Tara continued, swallowing her tears as she smiled up at the intent look on his face. "But I was scared to…to…because before I knew you I thought Jackson was…._but he hurt me," _Tara croaked, crying. "…._he hurt me so fuckin bad that I….._it hurts to even say his name and, and….he _LIED _about you….he kept telling me you were crazy and I _believed him_….and I'm so_, so, sorry_—"

_"Shh..shhh…shhh, _it's okay," Joshua cooed, moving his hands from her shoulders to cup her face again. "I'd never do anything to hurt you, Tar-tar. I _love _you...I love you so much."

"I know you do!" Tara chimed, smiling—nodding like a bobblehead. "And me, too…I feel the same way, Josh…that's why I don't want to do it like this….I don't want to do things the right way t-t-t-his time….I want our….our….I want our love to be _pure….._that's w-w-w-hy I…I really want us to wait until our wedding night, Okay? I want it to be special…._as special as we are when we're together."_

"Aww, _Babe." _Tara flinched at the familiar word, not the kiss he planted on her sweat-sheened forehead. "You're so _romantic….._you really are the perfect girl...you're _right….._we should wait…I've waited so long for you already. _What's one more night?"_

Tara smiled harder, swallowing the bile creeping its way up her throat when she mentally held a gun to her own head, forcing herself to tip her chin up and seal their moment of passion with a quick brushing of her lips across his—a move that she hoped would be enough to make what she said next go over well.

"You want to know what else would be perfect?" Tara said, reaching to hold his hand. "We should invite Jax to the wedding—"

"Tar-tar, I already told you everyone's go—"

"_Personally," _Tara stressed. "Please, Josh….I want to call him and tell him I'm moving on. And for real this time..._I'm done with him..._I'm done with all his lies and his tantrums and his….his _cheating," _she urged, clenching her jaw as several tears escaped beyond the wall she put up. "I really….Joshua, I….I really, really love you….so much….and I _hate _him for making me fight that." Tara reached up for _his _face then. Brushed her thumb along the stubble starting to form on his cheeks. "I wanna marry you," Tara told him, squeezing the hand still holding hers. "And I want to make sure Jax is right in the front watching us…._I want him to see what he lost."_

"Don't you worry, Tar-tar," Joshua promised. "This time tomorrow..._everyone's going to know how much you love me."_

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The club Reaper lounge and it's dorm rooms were filled to capacity, as it was on New Year's Eve. But the night was absent of music or dancing, no laughter. Heavy smoke and the clinking of liquor bottles and shot glasses were the only sounds circulating in the air until the double doors opened—and Barbara Harland walked inside.

"Thank you," Barbara said, stopping to stand between the two, weary-eyed men sitting at the bar. Smiling over at JT she stressed, "thank you for protecting my family."

JT nodded, a half-smile rising on his face—that same grin faltering when he caught the sight of his son passed out across the pool table, Chibs taking the lit cigarette between Jax's fingers, snatching up the half-empty bottle above his head, swigging and smoking. "It's not over yet, Darlin," JT told her.

Piney took a long swig of Tequila bottle in his hand, setting it down on the counter before adding gruffly, "And it wasn't just about _your _family."

Barbara smiled, nodding in agreement as she dipped her hands into the purse hanging from the crook of her elbow. She pulled a sealed envelope from inside of it, gingerly placing it on the counter in front of the bottle he'd been reaching for once again. "_As promised," _Barbara told him. "I, umm…. I can't say I have any idea what you're hoping for…especially given what's happened," Barbara paused, casting a final appreciative smile at JT before stepping back to walk away, "But I really hope everything works out your family, too…I'm just learning now how easily the _bad _apples can deceive the rest of the bunch."

JT watched as the doors snapped shut behind her, turning back to see his best friend staring down at the St. Thomas Lab results.

"You remember that explosion on the Wahiawa land?"

JT nodded. "Hard to forget," he answered. "We lost six of our own. Four in the ground and…Lenny and Otto got ten years, did a nickel each…hard to forget when your family's cut in half…."

Piney smiled. "That was the first time Mary asked me to leave the club," he admitted. "I shrugged it off of course…had no goddamn idea the brave front she put up for Gemma and the girls….that is really _was _a front…when I made parole I just figured she was doing what every Old lady does after a couple years alone."

"Yeah, every Old lady except _Gemma," _JT mused, chuckling darkly. "The matriarch had a little too much fun with the prison clause."

Piney joined in on the bittersweet laughter, shaking his head. "Drea was barely on her feet when I filed for divorce…wouldn't keep me in the know about her doctor's appointments….I guess she thought I'd come home eventually, like usual….she couldn't accept that it was over even when I finally filed…..Mary was up my ass about all the violence and the bloodshed…warring with the Mayans and the Nords...Shit, if anything Mary was the one had me second guessing the divorce...at least with Drea I didn't have to answer twenty million questions...she just went with the flow...I tried to Mary….tried to explain...to get her to see reason about what we were trying to accomplish….pushing drugs out of Charming and all the scum that came with it. Get this shit, she actually _threatened _to leave me when me and Otto went on that run to Chicago. I told her it was just to help an old friend out… T.O was looking to break off from that Bishop cat he was working with and be a little more legit….form his own MC down in Oakland….wanted to make sure he wasn't stepping on any toes bringing his business West... I swear that woman didn't a goddamn word I said…didn't give a shit either….she told me if I went, she wouldn't be there when I got back…._I believed her," _Piney said, shrugging. "Or at least that's what I told myself…I had already made her a _promise…._no other women, ring or not but she said she was leaving right? That meant I could whatever the fuck I wanted...and I _did."_

"We all been there, Brutha."

Piney nodded, accepting the lit blunt JT held out to him, taking a long pull from it, blowing the smoke out through his nose. "That was where I met her," he confessed. "I could give you a play by play but I won't...it's like you said...same story different narrator...there's only two things that matter anyhow. The first…it was only ever going to be that one weekend."

JT smirked, pouring more scotch into his glass. "And the _second?" _

Piney's smile was bittersweet. "I left Chicago wishing it was more than that."

JT laughed, cocking his head sideways at him. "So, I guess the fact that she ended up being your next door neighbor three years later doesn't factor in at all."

"Fuck you, asshole," Piney barked, the corners of his mouth twitching. "We didn't plan that shit!"

"Maybe _you _didn't," JT suggested, eyebrows rising.

Piney frowned, shaking his head. "Believe me, Brutha. Moira had no idea….Hell, the first year or so they lived out here she wouldn't even speak to me. Arthur on the other hand...he _loved _to talk…friendly motherfucker… guess I belong in asshole hall of fame 'cause I still didn't feel guilty at all for bedding his wife...and her freezing me out sure as shit didn't stop me from…well, we both know the ending to the story."

JT shook his head, sliding the white enveloped closer towards him. _"Not yet."_

"I damn near laid _my_ bike down, rushing to St. Thomas," Piney admitted, frowning down at the counter. "But _now…"_

Several minutes had passed since Piney's sentence trailed off.

JT stood up, walking behind the bar counter to get another glass, setting it down next to his, pouring two fingers worth into each of them. Piney's eyes rose up from the counter, following the path of the envelope when JT picked up, nodding at him in solidarity. "_I got this," _JT said, doing what Piney hadn't yet summoned the courage to. Piney watched as his best friend hooked a thumb at corner of the seal, sliding it across, pulling out the single, folded sheet of paper inside. Piercing, green-blue eyes studied the undecipherable face of the man standing behind the counter as he read.

Every second felt like another hour passing before John Teller's eyes finally flitted up from the paper in his hand, the ghost of a smile peeking out through the thick beard framing his face. "Congratulations, Brutha," JT said to best friend. "_Tara's your daughter."_

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**Okay, **so I finally "manned up" and edited the chapter (something I couldn't do without forcing myself to re-read what I'd written lol) and this is the end results. *Bites nails*...I'm ready for your thoughts.

And don't just sugarcode or kiss my butt 'cuz I'm nervous. This chapter was tough, but Respectful honesty please. FEEDBACK.

**|REVIEW|**


	83. Chapter 73: Part I

**STORY** structure is very **24**iSH timeline-wise so stay sharp! Special shout out to _** Bikehika**. _Doing my best. Hope I don't disappoint.

**Chapter 73: Part **I of **III**

**DISCLAIMER: **Very SOA, lol #EnoughSaid

**\- V**eritable **O**ld **L**ady **Crow**

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_If the squeaky wheel's always gettin' the grease _

_I'm totally devoted to disturbing the peace _

_And I'll do it all again, when I get done _

_Until I become your number one _

_No method to the madness, and no means of escape _

_Gonna break every rule or bend them all outta shape _

_It ain't a question of "how", just a matter of when _

_You get the message that I'm trying to send?_

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_"Several months ahead of the Mayoral election, Charming County Judge Jacob Hale is rumored to be announcing his plans to run for office today..."_

_"The results are in. And the answer raises even more questions. The human remains discovered by water and power out on I-44 have been identified, and the victim has a surprising connection to a local motorcycle club..."_

_"A devoted husband and father of three met a tragic end last night at his family owned motel."_

"Good morning at six A.M," James Olson absently shuffled the papers on the desk in front of them,_ "I'm James Olson—"_

_"And I'm Petra Gomes," _chimed the pretty, brown-haired News Anchor sitting beside him._ "Breaking News in Charming, California. Gary Camden, a local motel owner's family is in mourning after the fifty-two year old was found dead early this morning…_Eye witness' Chloe Sullivan at the scene of Charming's most popular motel, the Camelot…."

* * *

Chloe Sullivan nodded once at the camera rolling in front of her._ "It was a gruesome discovery for _anyone_ to stumble upon….but for his daughter…it was _especially_ grisly. Thirty-four year old Patricia Camden arrived early to work," _Chloe briefly glanced over her shoulder at the lot of conjoined buildings surrounded by yellow police tape, "_at the motel you see behind me, the Camelot, a popular, local motel here in the small town of Charming...It was in the back office of the motel's front desk that Patricia discovered her father, face-down, lying in a pool of his own blood. He'd been shot three times….twice in the back….and once in the head...All money and personal items, including Camden's wallet and watch have been accounted for, prompting local authorities to rule out robbery as a possible motivation behind the crime. No witnesses have come forward and there are no suspects at this time….the lack of motive leaves the Camden family and friends reeling with more questions than local PD has answers. We're live here in Charming…._Chloe Sullivan….eyewitness news._"_

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"You _promised,_" Laura Unser complained, scowling at the balding man sitting at the foot of their bed.

"I know, Honey," Wayne Unser lamented, "But there's way too much shit going on right now, _Lo. _Those fuckin FBI asshole are taking over my office. The prick calling the shots has his own agenda, and I can tell you for a fact it's got _shit_ to do with protecting our town from his crazy ass son. I have a nineteen year old murderer still on the loose, a missing fifteen year old girl that he's been _stalking,_ I've got human remains being unearthed on backroads, and now, because the Camden's are too goddamn cheap or irresponsible, or _both_—the security cameras that would have shed some light on what happened last night are just as dead and useless as Gary and I have no idea who put a bullet in the back of his head. There's way too much going on, Sweetheart. I know I promised but—"

"It's for a good cause," Laura argued, folding her arms across her chest, "It's _your _cause. Every year I show up to honor a foundation that supports the fight for recovery and funds research for a cure for the disease that almost took you from me—"

"Laura—"

"_And every year," _Laura pressed on, narrowing her eyes, "I show up without my cancer _survivor_ husband on my arm because he's too busy risking his clean bill of health fraternizing with all the people that are bad news for this town. I am _not _going alone. You promised you'd come this year, you promised you'd take the day off and you're going to honor your word. You're going to uphold your commitment to me, _and_ to the people funding the research to cure your disease….the same way you always manage to come through for SAMCRO."

Unser sighed, shaking his head at her. "You see me doing favors for the MC lately?"

"I don't _see _you at all," Laura challenged. "That's the problem. 'Protecting the town' always comes first. Nope—don't even—_I don't want to hear it, Wayne. _You're going to pick up your tux at the Cleaner's. And then you're taking me to the Hale's benefit brunch."

"Honey—"

"Flies are the _only _thing you're catching with whatever excuse you're fixing your mouth to give me, _Honey,_" Lauara Unser walked past him, feet clunking against the hallway floor as she headed towards the staircase. "Your ass better be there. Or I _won't _be when you get back from handling all your _Charming business."_

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Tara squeezed her eyes shut tight, teeth digging into her bottom lip as she squelched the urge to scream, to give in to the sea of tears she was holding in as she heard the trunk door snap shut, then the muffled sobs of the crying five year old girl inside.

"SHUT UP!" Joshua Kohn demanded, slamming his fist hard against the trunk. The crying stopped, or continued in silence. Tara couldn't tell and she couldn't focus well enough to listen as Joshua snatched the license plate off the rear end of the truck, urged her forward, nudging her back with the gun he'd used to kill the young woman covered up in a tarp he'd pulled from trunk of his truck. He forced Tara on a continued path back up to the road, leaving the truck hidden within the thicket of wild trees on the sides of the vacant highway.

When they'd reached the regrettably helpful woman's truck, Tara assumed the expected position, lying across the folded backseat, below the slightly tinted windows, curling into a ball on the floor, lying in defeated silence as she felt him kneel across the leather seats, crawling to where her head rested. _"I didn't _want _to shoot her, Baby," _Joshua said, brushing her hair back, the car key's the woman hadn't given up fast enough lightly grazing her cheek, jangling in his hand. "But she wouldn't cooperate. She was ruining our schedule. It's our big day, Tar-tar. _Timing….is everything._"

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Clarence Morrow looked up from the greasy, bleach-scented table his hands were shackled and cuffed to at the sound of the interrogation room door opening. Morbid curiosity fueled the otherwise cocky smile spreading across his face as a man he'd never met swaggered towards him, his long dirty-blonde ponytail swaying behind him as he approached the table, clutching a manila folder in his hand as he sat down across from him.

"Good morning, Mr. Morrow," the man addressed him, extending a hand to either of his two shackled ones. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you although I'm sure you wish it was under better circumstances."

_"Well, damn."_ Clay smirked, eyeing the extended hand slowly making it's way back to its owner's side of the table. "Where's your briefcase, man? The yearly salary for legal aid workers must be even shittier than the representation. Tell Uncle Sam I said no thanks. I already got a lawyer on the payroll. Where the Hell is she anyway? For Twelve-hundred an hour Lowen's ass should have been at the station before me."

"As I understand it, Ms. Lowen and her firm represent SAMCRO," the man commented. "Seeing as you're no longer uh….part of the _brotherhood_ I'd recommend seeking other counsel. It _might _benefit you…at some point."

Clay cocked an eyebrow. "Are you supposed to be the _counsel _I'm seeking?"

The man chuckled, shaking his head. "No, Mr. Morrow," he replied. "I'm actually not a lawyer at all. My name is Lee Toric and—"

"If you're not a lawyer what the fuck are you doing in here?" Clay barked, all traces of amusement in his voice gone as his mood quickly switched from arrogant to irritated and on-guard. "How'd you even get—_who are you?"_

Lee Toric smiled. "My brother was a shitty father," the grinning man told him. "….walked out on his family….started a new one…_shit_…he eventually walked out on them, too….Kenny was loyal to one thing and one thing only and it was the bottle of Scotch he brought home with him every night…."

"I'd play the violin for ya, but I'm a little tied up," Clay snarked.

"Her mother didn't want shit to do with _any _of us," Toric continued. "And she didn't either…._especially me_, which….well, it really wasn't surprising given her choice of boyfriend back then….Still….I promised my niece that if there was ever _anything_ she needed from me….any way for me to make up for what an asshole my brother was all she had to do was give me call."

Clay's eyebrows threaded together, shoulders shrugging. "The fuck are you talking about?"

"_Donald Levin," _Lee Toric slapped the folder in his hand onto the table, flipping it open to reveal crime scene pictures, photographs of the sallow, severely decomposed corpse spread across a metal slab.

"I don't know who that is," Clay barked.

"Sure you do," Lee chimed, leering at him. "He's the trucker that was driving the Semi that almost killed your MC's founding President Johnathan Teller…the man you _paid _to make a statement that the accident was an attempted suicide. Of course, he's also the loose end you needed to tie up. Twelve-hundred dollars an hour and your lawyer couldn't give you some pointers on how not to get caught? I supposed that would be bad for business. No reason to pay them if you aren't getting caught with dirty hands. Still, in the future you might want to choose who you sponsor a little more wisely. It didn't take much at all...just a _little _pressure to get Kyle Hobart to finger you."

"Hey, asshole, the only _Donald _I know is Donald Duck and I'm not much for cartoons these days," Clay spat. "I didn't kill _anyone—"_

_"Today_ you didn't," Lee Toric interrupted, tilted his head, lips curled up to one side. "Not last night either, although from what I hear you came pretty close. I guess you only wanted his gavel after all. Doesn't seem like his Old Lady means as much as she did before, you beating the shit out of her on your kitchen floor and all." Clay moved the jump up, glaring at the cuffs clamped around his wrists, preventing him from doing much else. Toric merely smiled, nodding his head in understanding. "I can see I'm upsetting you, Mr. Morrow," Lee stated, flipping the manila folder closed. "Don't worry, we're just about finished here. I simply wanted to stop by…_say Hello..._let you know my niece has your back. I already put the word in for you," Lee promised, eyes briefly darting towards the red light that should have blinking on the camera mounting against the wall. "When you get to Stockton, I have some friends of mine…they're going to keep you company…_make sure no one breaks your heart._" Toric stood up then, tucking the folder under one arm, bracing his hands against the table as he leaned forward, dropping his voice to barely above a whisper. "You don't have me to thank for it. Thank _Diane_….this is for everything you've done for her…"

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_"Hi, Mr. Kane, this is Dr. Addison Montgomery...I've tried your wife's cell phone several times but I haven't been able to make contact to confirm her appointment for Thursday morning. Diane did call my office back to confirm but it seems we've been playing phone tag in between my schedule and everything you and Mrs. Kane have been going through these past couple days. This isn't a professional call so much as personal. I just wanted to let her, let you...I wanted to let both of you know that I am _truly _sorry for the situation you're in...I understand that this was not an easy decision for her...for either one of you to make but it is very courageous...very brave and I wish your brother-in-law...her brother the best with his transplant. I also wanted to inform you that I've decided to move my practice to Los Angeles permanently so I'm just a few hours away when...or_ If _you're interested in starting a family in the future...I know how hard miracles are to come by, and this may have seemed like your only chance but...I'm a firm believer in science, too...and I have faith that theirs another miracle in your future. I would love nothing more than to be a part of making it happen for your family..._when _you're ready...Alright..._I'll see the two of you Thursday...Bye."

"What's wrong?" Diane asked her husband as he stared blankly at the door handle, cellphone pressed against his ear. "Is it something with Tara? Something your guy found—"

"No, Babe," Duncan answered. "It's nothing important, trust me. Just my mother...she left me a nasty message the other day complaining about me missing her birthday," he lied. "I guess Logan finally filled her in on everything that's been going on. I missed her call _again _but this time she was just calling to say how sorry she was and that she hopes your niece will be okay."

Diane cocked an eyebrow, a wry smile twitching her mouth. "Celeste _apologizing _for something? _And _showing concern for someone other than herself? Now that I need to hear to believe."

_"Later_," Duncan said, tucking the cellphone she reached for into his pocket. Duncan reached for the handle, holding the door open for her, walking in stride with Diane as they made their way inside the Charming Police station. Just as they reached the front desk, a man with a long ponytail approached them, a triumphant smile crinkling the corners of his eyes as he stopped in front of them.

"What's it been?" Lee Toric mused. "Ten years?"

Diane didn't crack a smile, disregarding his outstretched arms, sliding one of hers within Duncan's instead.

"Did you handle it?" Diane asked briskly.

Toric nodded. "Of course," he replied, smile faltering. "Arraignment tomorrow is nothing but a formality. No bail, he's being remanded straight to Stockton. Once he's inside my guys'll make sure he's treated accordingly…as promised."

Duncan looked to the stony expression on his wife's face. "Diane? What's going on here, Who's he?"

Diane ignored him, her eyes never left her estranged, scraggly-bearded uncle's face. "How long?" She asked him simply.

Lee Toric shrugged. "As long as you want," he promised. "…that was the deal."

Diane's smile was cold, she stiffly nodded her approval. "And the other thing?" She prodded.

Toric shook his head, a blend of amusement and respect laced within the smile pursing his lips. "Just give me twenty-four notice," he instructed. "And I'll make sure you're covered."

_"Good,"_ Diane replied sharply. "I'll let you know when."

Diane's eyebrows rose in challenge as he continued to stand there, her lack of anything else to say as good as any verbal dismissal. Raising a hand towards his head, Lee Toric mock-saluted her before walking off without so much as a goodbye.

"Who was that?" Duncan asked again, immediately.

"Someone who owed me a favor," Diane answered, turning towards the two men in black suits walking towards them. "A _big _one."

"_Diane Knowles?" _the shortest of the pair questioned, holding his hand out to her when she nodded. "I'm Gordon Briggs," he announced, "F.B.I. We've been unable to get in contact with your brother Arthur—"

Diane held her hand up. "You said you had new information on Tara's kidnapping," she interrupted.

Agent Briggs nodded. "Yes," he replied. "As I've said, we've been try—"

"You can skip all the preamble bullshit," Diane snapped, shaking her head. "Just _tell me _what's going on."

_"All these assholes ever have is preamble."_

Diane looked up, light eyes meeting a familiar pair, a familiar face she hadn't seen since high school. "Katy?"

"Hey, Di," Deputy Palmer nodded once, a measured smile on her face, more friendly than awkward—like the smile on her partner Byrd's face as they joined the group. "I'm sorry about Tara...We're doing everything we can to get her back," Katy stressed, glaring up at the Agent Briggs, "including making sure these guys don't screw shit up trying to protect one of their own."

"One of their own?" Diane's eyebrows bunched together. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Jesus Christ," Katy hissed, eyes narrowing further, her head shaking in disgust at the two F.B.I Agent standing between them. "You haven't told her _anything _have you?"

Gordon Briggs cleared his throat. "We were just getting to that—"

"Then I suggest you get there faster," Diane demanded, glaring at two Agents in front of her. "Where the Hell is my niece? Why hasn't their been an Amber alert? What the fuck are you people trying to pull? Who're you protecting? _Who has Tara?_"

"We don't know," Agent Briggs admitted. "But we're—"

"Then what the fuck am I doing here?" Diane screeched, her voice growing louder, more shrill with each word. "You call me down here so I can watch you stand here with your dick in your hand? _Where the Hell is Unser?"_

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_"...A witness _has_ come forward in the gruesome murder of fifty-two year old Motel chain owner, Gary Camden," _Petra Gomes announced. "_Seventeen year old Eviqua Michaels, whose identity remains anonymous is speaking out despite her mother's fear for her daughter's safety."_

_"He was wearing a baseball cap," _Eviqua Michaels stated.

Viewers could just make out the wild curls of her dark-brown hair, but not the true color—her hair appeared pitch black—just like the rest of her, underneath the cloak of darkness in the room where she sat.

"..._And he was wearing shades over his eyes so I couldn't see him all that good…at first...he seemed odd from the moment I saw him…I was waiting up for my mother….I always come by the motel on weekends and help her finish cleaning the last of the rooms….I was looking out when I saw him leave the main building….he had a gun in his hand and he was...he had a woman with him…I couldn't see her face, she….she had a hood pulled over her head….and it looked like she was in cuffs….he kept the gun pressed to her back the whole time they walked….the girl, she...she knocked them off his face when she was trying to get away...the whole time I just kept praying my mom didn't walk out until they were gone…and when he took her back to one of the rooms on the other side of the lot my mom came back and we….we just left right away."_

"According to authorities, it was her mother's illegal immigrant status that initially kept her from coming forward." James Olson's mouth was set in a grim line, as the ABC news desk returned to view, along with Olson and his fellow News Anchor_. "_Stay tuned as we keep you updated on this developing story…"

Petra Gomes nodded in agreement. "_Breaking news,_" she proclaimed. "_Authorities have issued a Statewide Amber alert for fifteen year old Tara Knowles, seen here in this photograph taken by one of her classmates... This comes just two days after an alleged media blackout, restricting the reporting of any info regarding her disappearance. Eyewitness News' Chloe Sullivan live at the local Charming High school with the story…."_

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"_She's a straight-A student,"_ Chloe Sullivan stated, gesturing her hand towards the school building behind her. "_Charming High's very own academic star. Fifteen year old Tara Knowles has reportedly been missing since late New Year's Eve…her family left angry and confused with the lack of communication or cooperation with local authorities…A call was made to Charming PD who have confirmed that the F.B.I has taken over the investigation..." _

* * *

"_We are unable to release any information regarding any suspects at this time,"_ Agent Robert F. Kohn stated, turning away from the microphone nearest to him, briskly retreating up the front steps to the Charming Police precinct as reporters and cameramen swarmed the parking lot.

* * *

"_Agent Robert F. Kohn_," Chloe Sullivan explained as her face once again, graced the TV screen, "_Just moments before he was replaced as the agent leading the investigation in what has _officially _been ruled a kidnapping…"_

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The water had run cold several minutes earlier. The absence of heat went completely unnoticed as Jax sat below the shower-head, water cascading over him, drenching his face, pouring down his naked chest, tiny droplets spraying his legs, tickling the fine hairs of his calves as he crouched in the corner of the tub, staring blankly at the blue, tiled wall.

Knuckles wrapped against the closed bathroom door. "Hey, Jax, you alive in there?" Jax didn't answer, didn't move an inch even when the fist knocked harder against the door. "Chibs told me to kick the door in if you didn't answer so um….and well I told them I'd come check in with you 'cause I wanted to talk to you anyway….Listen, Man, with all this shit going on we need to—"

Jason stopped talking when the shower nozzle squeaked, when the water stopped running, when he heard the subtle plop of feet stepping out of the tub—the swish of a towel being pulled from a rack.

He backed several spaces away from the door as it opened, Jax stepping out into the dorm room, walking barefoot across the weathered carpet, water dripping from his hair down his shoulders as he tightened the towel hanging from his hips. "Get out," Jax barked, leaning over to pull clothes from the duffel bag on the chair next to the window.

"We were all drunk, having a good time," Jason cited lamely, absently pulling at the hairs of his beard. "Your girl ended up having a better time than I did," he griped bitterly, "But that's all it was man. And you heard it from her mouth, yo. I didn't force her to do _shit."_

"You think that makes a difference?" Jax growled, spinning around to glare at him. "If you know what I know you'll stay the Hell away from me….you might end up being my first conviction."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Give me a fuckin break with the fake outlaw act," he sneered. "You can't keep hiding behind your last name, Dude. You heard it straight from another patch. It don't mean shit outside this clubhouse, not even in this town anymore now that you're not prospecting. And I really don't think you want to be that guy…the guy that hides been his Daddy."

Jax cocked an eyebrow at him, smirking as he dropped the towel, pulling his boxers up over his hips "You pulled a gun on me."

"It was heat of the moment," Jason replied, scowling at him. "It was a reaction and given what you probably would have done if you had one in your waistband I can't really call it a bad one. You won't ever hear me apologizing for getting a motherfucker before he gets me. And anyway it shouldn't matter. I've had JT's back same as every other prospect in this clubhouse. I been more than loyal to your Old man and his club before I even put this kutte—"

"I thought it was _Clay's _club?" Jax challenged, smiling at him. "You did, too, didn't you? That's why you thought you could say and do whatever the Hell you wanted."

"Look, man," Jason said, losing patience. "Are you gonna go bitchin to your _daddy _or not?"

Jax chuckled, pulling his jeans up. "I don't know," Jax replied, nodding up at him. "Why don't you suck my dick while I think about it?"

Jason's expression darkened, his eyes flitted down towards Jax's damp, water splattered chest. "That's some nice ink you got," Jason sneered, hard eyes glazing over the tattoo across his chest. "Looks new…Guess you went with Niko to Freddy's before you ditched him….I think it's real interesting…you getting a girls name tattooed on your chest….right after you catch her with my head between her legs." Jason snickered as he watched the smug grin on Jax's face vanish, rage consuming his features. "When are you going back to finish it? I think the _In memory of _should be in curs—"

Jax dropped the T-shirt in his hand, flying across the floor, charging, lunging for the leather-clad biker struggling to reach for his gun—struggling with the notion itself, whether or not he should respond the same way he had earlier.

The gun hit the floor with a thud, Jason winced as the KA-BAR he'd reached for next nicked his palm when Jax snatched it from his waist, pressing it under his chin, his other hand gripping his throat, nails digging into the skin of his neck, pinning him to the wall from the waist down, by a knee pressed against his crotch.

"I hear the croweaters call you _quick-draw," _Jax sneered, scaling the blade back and forth, catching several hairs from his beard. "Guess they're not talking about how fast you pull a gun then, huh? ….Is this what it looks like when you _have JT's back? _They might as well just leave you at the shop, and let you answer the fuckin phone."

Jax looked down suddenly, blue eyes widening at the sudden heat, the swell beneath the denim-clad crotch under his knee. "Are you…._are you fuckin hard right now?" _Jax shook his head, chuckling—laughing harder when Jason shoved him back hard the second he lowered the knife underneath the red-faced Prospects chin. "Jesus Christ," Jax mused, smoothing back his damp, blonde locks. "Well at least now I know why _Tig's_ your sponsor."

Jax shook his head, smirking—kicked the gun across the floor, sending it cascading into the wall near the bathroom, turning to walk away.

"I get it, Bro," Jason goaded, glaring a hole into Jax's naked back as the sixteen year old pulled a cigarette from the carton on the nightstand. "No wonder you're always running behind her like a lost puppy. I'm gonna miss her too, man. That Tara girl….hmm, hmm, hmm…._sweetest thing I've ever tasted."_

Jason was ready for him that time—knocking the charging teenager backwards, raising his leg to kick him in the face. The blow landed, blood trickled from Jax's nose down onto Jason's boots but he caught his ankle, dug his nails into his calves—pulled and yanked him down.

"You're probably enjoying this," Jax barked, tackling him, pinning him on his back with both knees crushing his neck. Jax leaned forward, the crotch of his jeans smothering Jason's face, as he reached up for the knife he'd dropped on the bed. Crawling back, his knees stabbed into Jason's collarbone, his hand curved around his throat. "Let's see….how much you like it…._when I cut out your fuckin tongue—"_

"JAX!" Miles yelled through the closed dorm room door.

Jax squeezed Jason's throat tighter, punching him hard in the face, holding his fist—the tight fist holding onto the knife still in his hand over his mouth. _"What?"_

"You need to get out here now!" Miles said. "Gemma just pulled up, and she looks like somebody beat her with a fuckin brick!"

"What?" Jax repeated, angling the sharp point of the blade in his hand at Jason's wide-eyed facial expression, daring him to make a sound or any sudden movements as he slowly stood up. Unable to resist, he kicked Jason hard in his side—leering at the cowering young prospect on the floor when he grunted in pain.

"The fuck are you doing in there?" Miles asked. "Jackin off?"

"What happened to my mother?_" _Jax demanded, yanking the bedroom door open.

Mile's eyes briefly touched on the prospect getting off the floor behind him, before they reached the stormy-blue irises boring into his face, waiting for an answer. "I don't know what happened or where….but someone beat the _shit _out of your mom."

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

Gemma was standing behind the bar, pouring herself a drink from a bottle she pulled off the top shelf when her son stormed out, into the lounge. Looking up at the sound of footsteps, Gemma's smile looked every bit as painful as all the bumps and bruises littering her battered face. "Hey, Baby."

_"Jesus_, Ma," Jax rushed towards her, pulling the glass she was drinking from away from her lips, setting it down on the counter, reaching up to pull off the shades she wore over her eyes, to pull off the cap on her head. "Who the fuck did this to you?"

Gemma only shook her head, smiling harder. "I'm glad you're up and walking around," she commented. "Hated to see you like that the other night. You gotta stay strong, Baby. Through everything, no matter what."

Jax frowned at the woman brushing her thumb across his cheek. He reached for her wrist, gently pulling her hand away, holding onto it—biting back a curse at the raised skin and open cuts he was all too familiar with dotting the skin of her palm and knuckles. "_Who," _Jax stressed, "Did this, Mom?"

_"It was Clay."_

Jax looked over her shoulder at the three men standing near the clubhouse entrance—JT, Piney and Opie.

It was only the youngest of the trio that looked even the least bit concerned with Gemma's condition—the hazel-eyed sixteen year old walking towards them. "You okay, Gem?" Opie asked, peering over at her from across the bar counter, worry and concern marring his rugged features.

"She's fine," Piney interjected once again. "_For now."_

Jax glared over at Piney—hands reflexively balling into fists. "The _Fuck _is that supposed to mean?"

Piney's answering grunt, the challenge in his own darkening blue eyes implied the, "_I really fuckin wish you would," _without the elder man even speaking.

Jax glared at his godfather, JT's expression was undecipherable as he stared at his battered wife, Niko, Miles and a suddenly appearing Jason studied the Winston's and Teller's closely, shaking their heads in confusion at the silence—the tension whirring in the air.

But Gemma Teller only had eyes for one person.

The sixteen year old boy glancing back and forth between his father and the woman he was glowering at—she only had eyes for Opie Winston.

"What the Hell is going on?" Opie asked finally.

* * *

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"His car's here," Duncan replied, speaking into the bluetooth headset clipped to his ear. He pulled into the parking spot several spaces away, peering over at the empty Cutlass. "I don't see him though…No, it's okay, V…Veronica, trust me, you're already doing enough as it is. I spoke with your dad. He caught the guy he was chasing in Nevada City….holed up in his ex-wife's attic…Keith's on his way back here now…he said he's headed straight here, probably touch down in a couple hours. I don't want you and Wallace to mess up your senior year….I _know _what the last semester is like…I wasn't a senior that long ago smart ass. Still….this situation has gotten a lot more complicated and I agree with your father not wanting you in the mix. I never wanted to involve you in the first place. Listen," Duncan paused, squinting his eyes at the man sitting on a park bench, several feet away in the vacant park, near a shallow duck pond. His back was to him, he crouched over, head down as if studying something in his lap. "I see him now," Duncan announced to the persistent blonde, high school senior on the end of the phone conversation. "I gotta go, V. And so do _you. _You and Wallace head back to Neptune today. I'll see you and Logan at graduation…._bye."_

Arthur Knowles was staring down at his lap, eyes frozen on the glass bottle wrapped up inside of the brown paper bag he held in his hands when he was walked up to him. The bleary-eyed man neither noticed or acknowledged Duncan's presence when he moved to sit down next him—when he turn to glare at what was in his hand, to shake his head in disgust.

_"I knew you weren't worth it."_

Arthur's eyes snapped towards him then—they were bloodshot, cold-crusted, his face ashen, an untamed five O'clock shadow framing his jaw. His clothes were unkempt, his jacket wreaked of mildew, probably from the rainfall the night before, probably from him spending the night drinking his pain away on a park bench.

Like a homeless wino.

"I knew I didn't deserve a second chance with her," the grieving father admitted quietly. "Not after all the shit I've done….but…but why'd it have to be like this?"

"Diane _refuses _to give up on you," Duncan barked, glowering at him, pointing at the bottle in his hand. "Your daughter refuses to give up on you. Your _family_ refuses to give up on you no matter how badly…no matter how often you fuck them over…no matter how many times you disappoint them. And you know…normally, I'd get it, I mean," Duncan shrugged, "That's what family does, right?" The plastic smile on his face melted, giving way to the anger that never left the scorned husband's eyes. "Then why are you the only fuckin exception? You make life hard for everybody that loves you and they stand by you. But when shit gets hard for you, you check out on them…..My wife is willing….to give up…._anything….._she'll do anything to help you. And you know your daughter will, too and yet you sit here…and you give up….you give _in….._What the Hell is wrong with you?"

Arthur smiled—a real one, painful and strained, but real. "You really love my sister."

"More than you love your _Bourbon," _Duncan replied, once again glaring a hole into his hands once again.

Arthur laughed, a hoarse sound rumbling from his chest—he pulled the bottle from the brown paper bags, tears glittering his eyes as he lightly sat the empty Bourbon on the bench between them. "I hope so," Arthur mused. "_I poured this out about an hour ago."_

Duncan's eyebrows rose, disbelief clear in his expression. "You poured it out, huh." Arthur nodded. "You've been missing almost as long as Tara has. Diane hasn't seen or heard from you since you came to check on her at the hospital. You look a fuckin mess and you stink….You expect me to believe that shit?"

"I really don't give a shit what you think of me, Son," Arthur told him. "But facts are facts and the fact is…the liquor store was my first stop soon as I left St Thomas….and then I came here…to this park….where I used to bring Gracie when she was a little girl….during Moira's _baking phase," _Arthur chuckled, eyes crinkling at the bittersweet memory, "Lasagna really _was_ the only thing that woman could make without screwing it up….every loaf she made….every tray of biscuits or muffins…I'd wrap them up a little at a time and I'd….I'd bring Gracie here after school or sometimes before…..and we'd let the ducks and the pigeons take one for the team…that way we didn't hurt mom's feelings…because she was _really trying…"_

Duncan shook his head, confusion marring his features as he read the deep anguish, the remorse in Arthur's eyes. "So, what, is this your new thing? You buy a bottle of Bourbon and stare at it? Pour it out the first few times until you can't—"

"Why are you here, Son?" Arthur interrupted, finally turning to face him.

Duncan absently adjusted his tie. "There's new information on Tara's kidnapping. Police couldn't get a hold of you and Diane's been worried so I decided to track you down."

Arthur wasn't a part of Tara's life. He hadn't been for seven years. He didn't know anything about her that would help the police in any way. She was as good as an adult—fifteen going on thirty.

And it was his fault.

It was his fault for not knowing her—for not knowing enough to even begin to name a suspect, to know if she was in danger.

There was nothing he could tell the police that would make a difference.

For all of the preconceived, albeit accurate notions about what an awful father he was, Duncan had to know that.

And there was only one thing the police could call and tell him that he would want to hear—that they found Tara, that she was alive and coming home.

Sitting beside him, Duncan had to know that, too.

Arthur nodded, eyes flitting towards the ducks swimming around the pound in front of them. "And the _real _reason?"

* * *

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"…..Ethan Zobelle and his crew…..they were targeting me….that was the first night I ever let anybody drive my car…you know how I felt about my….but Diane, she….the first time Pat brought her to Reaper, I _hated _her….and she didn't even have to say a word to me….it was her name….her _last _name…she was a Knowles and that made her...that made her someone I couldn't trust….all I needed to know was that she….she was part of the family….that ruined _my _family," Gemma looked towards Piney, unshed tears shining in her eyes. "When I took her in…..when I welcomed her into our life….it wasn't because I trusted her…not at first," the battered matriarch admitted. "When I let her in it was to spite that home-wrecking whore you fell in love with."

Gemma shook her head, smiling as she watched JT press a hand to Piney's shoulder to keep him from jumping up.

"She wanted you out," Gemma accused. "And you were ready to leave us…to abandon the family that's always had your back," she griped, olive eyes briefly flitting over to touch on her son's face. "I knew Moira Knowles didn't want anything to do with SAMCRO…and I knew she loved her…her _little s__ister…._she didn't want Diane getting sucked into our world…didn't think she could handle it…not like _she _did…not like she handled _you, _turning you against your family…taking you away from the woman that raised your son like he—"

"_Gemma," _JT warned.

"You ruined her!" Gemma snapped, glaring at Piney. "You twisted her up….made her feel like she didn't mean shit to you after everything she's done…and when Mary finally got sick of your bullshit….when she finally got tired of waiting for you to leave her for that whore, you tried to take her son—"

Piney scowled. "I never—"

_"You threatened her," _Gemma growled, narrowing her eyes. "When she made that deal she felt like she didn't have a choice!"

Opie's eyebrows furrowed. "What deal? What the Hell—"

"—Is this what you came here to do?" Piney barked, slamming his fist down against the table. "To try to place blame on someone else? What about all your sins, Gemma? Let's talk about why Clay tried to beat you to death. That's why _I'm _sitting here. Why don't we focus on _you…_the gatekeeper…the one that knows every truth behind every lie…inside every goddamn secret tearing this _family _apart?!"

"I didn't _know," _Gemma cried, angry, bitter tears sliding down her face. "Diane wasn't just a pawn…she wasn't revenge anymore. Moira was already gone and I…..I didn't know what Clay did to her….I thought she betrayed us…that she betrayed _me…._but she was just another…_Mary…._and even when they were backed into a corner….in the end they never said a word….the only rat to ever set foot in this clubhouse is Clay," Gemma hissed, rage flashing in her eyes. "He lied to me….he's been lying to all of us….Diane didn't leave because she couldn't handle the life….she left because she was raped…Zobelle and his crew tried to get to me…he wanted to cripple the matriarch….even an outsider….even _he knew…_how important I am to this club….this club….SAMCRO is my family….that I was doing everything I could to keep it together while—"

"You fuckin Clay was keeping us together?" Piney snarled. "You killing Mary was keeping us together? You trying to kill your old—"

Opie's eyes snapped towards his father. "The fuck are you talking about….Pop?" His father didn't respond. Instead silence followed Piney's violent outburst as Opie touched on the shock in Jax's eyes, the lack of surprise in John Teller's and the grief—the unadulterated grief in Gemma's. "My mom is…..she's," Opie jerked his head back towards his father. "She left us," the sixteen year old argued. "She told me she was going on vacation and she never came back….all those letters I sent…she only answered one of them….she told me she loved me and that I was…that I was…and when me and Jax...her tenant said she wasn't home...s-s-she...she..._What the Hell do you mean she's dead?" _Opie turned to narrow his eyes at the woman Jax had instinctively moved closer to. "You killed my mother?"

"Of course she didn't," Jax answered, glaring at Piney. "What the fuck is your problem, Piney? How do you go from arguing about who was the bigger whore to _murder?"_

"Jackson—"

Jax glanced at his dad. "You're going along with this shit? Really?"

"This was never a conversation for them," Piney commented, blue eyes touching on the two teenagers sitting on either side of them.

"Opie deserves to know the truth," Gemma explained, reaching across the table, Opie's hand slipped from underneath hers before she could firmly grasp it. "All of this shit started with Diane….all the side deals Clay was making behind the club's back…they caught up with him…Zobelle only ever gave a shit about one color…._green…._just like Clay…two sides of the same fuckin coin….when Zobelle figured out who robbed him…who attacked his drug operation, he came after me…he thought Clay was acting on your orders…that it was a club decision and he wanted to _break us…._Diane suffered the consequences and I will…._never," _Gemma seethed, gnawing at her bottom lip. "I will never forgive myself for everything she went through because I…because I couldn't protect her…because she knew she couldn't trust me to protect her because I trusted the same man you trusted to hold onto your gavel while you served time for protecting us…for protecting our boys," Gemma croaked. "She turned her back on her family….we were the only family she had left…she didn't have many options and Clay just kept….he kept coming for her…he _threatened _her….he knew what would happen if you ever figured out what he'd been up to…he didn't want you to make the connection so he threatened her…and for a while she dealt with it…..but then _you," _Gemma said, staring at Piney. "You gave her an ally….you gave her _Mary…_the two of them together….they made a deal with that ATF bitch Stahl….John found out….and he told you….he told you what Mary was planning…what she was willing to do….and I asked him," Gemma confessed, looking over at her eerily quiet husband. "I asked him what you were going to do….and he told me to stay out of it….he said he'd handle it….but he wouldn't tell me how and I…..Mary wasn't a rat….I knew she wasn't….I couldn't just let you….not after Moira….not after you…._I panicked," _Gemma rubbed the tears blurring her eyes away. "I ran to Clay….he was the only one that talked to me anymore…I knew he'd tell me what you were planning. Only he…._he had no fuckin idea…._"

"And it would have _stayed _that way if you kept your mouth shut and did what I told you to do, which was stay of club business." JT stated flatly.

As usual, John Teller's voice lacked emotion, but Jax's eyes widened as the quiet rage his father usually did a stellar job hiding bled into his features.

"You told him Mary turned rat," Piney accused, pointing a finger at her.

"Are you fuckin serious?" Opie jumped up from his seat, wavering disbelief twisting up his features as he fought against the panic making his heart race. "You bring me in here to tell me my mother was a rat and you killed her," Opie waved his hand between the two elder men, "to keep these assholes out of prison?"

"I didn't kill her," Gemma croaked, shaking her head, squeezing her eyes shut, tears pouring down her face. _"Clay_ killed her…he did it right in front of me….and…._I couldn't do anything to stop it."_

"But you could cover it up though," Piney barked.

Opie looked down at his father—clenching his jaw as he caught the first sign of tears fighting their way to the surface, the shadow of guilt that he couldn't hide from a son that knew him well enough to see through the anger he used an armor….the same as his Godson. _"Is it true?"_

"Ope—"

Opie held a hand up to his best friend, silencing him with the mere gesture as his eyes sought out his father's averted, misty-eyed gaze. "All this time I've been wondering why my mother left me, she's been rotting in some shallow grave you and your club dug for her?"

Piney looked up at him, hurt flashing in his eyes. "I would have never—"

"Hurt her?" Gemma interjected, a bitter chuckle cutting through her tears. "You_ did _hurt her, Piney. You hurt her when you told her you were leaving her behind…when you checked out on her before you even knew Tara was yours….when you told her that you didn't give a shit if she left as long as she didn't take _your _son anywhere…._You're _the reason she went to the Feds in the first place….you gave them a way in…go ahead….tell me your _blameless._"

"Mom—"

_"Cancer,"_ Gemma griped, glaring at him through her tears. "That bitch dropping dead is the only reason you're still wearing that Kutte on your back…the only reason you're still here….the only reason you never deserted your family…that—"

_"Your dick got my mother killed," _Opie seethed through clenched teeth, glowering at his father.

Piney shook his head. "Son—"

"YOUR _DICK_ GOT MY MOTHER KILLED!"

Opie charged at him, the chair flipped backwards as Piney's back hit the floor, his sixteen year old son's hands around his throat. Gemma continued to sit there, she watched in stony, sanctimonious silence as JT and Jax each jumped up, both of them struggling to restrain Opie as the brass rings on his fingers, as his angry fists rained down on his father's face.

Piney didn't even fight him.

And when a profusely sweating, heavy-breathing JT finally managed to pull him off, when Jax helped his Godfather off the floor, blood painted Piney's mouth as he looked at his son. "_I'm sorry, Son."_

All five of them turned towards the leather-padded chapel doors as they flew open, Miles and Nio rushing inside.

Gemma glared. "What the Hell did I t—"

"I know, Gem," Miles urged. "Sorry, but you gotta see this shit! _We made the fuckin news!"_

"What?!" All of them cried collectively.

* * *

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_"…..Yes, James….the anonymous tip was called in early this morning, the unidentified caller informing police that there had been a mass murder, disconnecting the call immediately after divulging the address….a cabin at Lake Vernon, a popular vacation spot just a few short feet from where I'm standing….local authorities arrived at the scene to discover a _massacre_….as many as _ten _victims, one of them a woman that have yet to be identified….it is unclear what exactly took place….but given the weapons recovered at the scene local P.D suspect gang activity….Even more shocking, is the private property's owner….It has officially been confirmed….the Cabin in question is owned by esteemed Charming County judge _Jacob Hale…._these tragic events happening just hours before Hale is expected to announce his plans to run for office…."_

* * *

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"Dad is gonna shit a brick," David Hale mused, smirking as he made the turn off the highway, headed towards Hale Manor. He briefly glanced over at the pretty, grey-eyed girl who seemed way more interested in her manicure—frowning at the slight chip on one of her nails instead of the speculation over her father's possible association to criminals blaring through the car radio.

David shook his head at his sister, rolling his eyes at her picking at the rhinestones lining her French-bun, adjusting the pushup-bra underneath her strapless jumpsuit. "I'm surprised you even agreed to come back," he commented. "With the way you left things with the Judge I didn't think you'd be up for playing Daddy's little girl for the day."

Sarah Hale shrugged, pulling a tube of lipgloss out of her designer clutch. "It's only for two days."

David pulled his car to a stop, several blocks away from their home, waiting patiently in the traffic-jam's worth of cars making their way down their block, dropping off guests, being redirected to the parking area on the other end of their property. Angling his body towards the front passenger seat, his smile twisted to one side of his face as he nodded up at her. "What are you getting out of this?"

Sarah grinned, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Would you believe me if I said he promised me a pony?"

"Yeah, I would, actually."

Sarah laughed. _"Sorbonne," _she told him simply. "Then _Oxford _next fall. He knows the dean of admissions there and apparently the guy owes him a favor."

David shook his head in disbelief. "He probably just wants you out of the Country."

"You're probably right," Sarah replied, smirking. "But we'll have to file that under long term goals. Right now he just wants me to smile for the cameras and pretend we're the fuckin Brady Bunch for Gloria's precious fundraiser….and his special _announcement _of course."

David rolled his eyes. "You should probably give _Gloria _some pointers," he grumbled. "I tried to make her watch The Good Wife but she insists on playing it by ear."

Sarah laughed. "She must be real excited that I'm coming back for the family tradition."

"Oh yeah," David gushed, narrowing his eyes as he smiled at her. "When the Judge told her you were coming back her exact words were, _Oh Joy…the whore is coming home."_

* * *

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"…_sources say that at least one of the victims have been confirmed as a member of local motorcycle club Sons of Anarchy….possibly the local redwood Charter…It is unclear what possible affiliation SAMCRO may have with the County Judge. We've reached out to Jacob Hale but he was unavailable for comment….Is he scrambling to cover his tracks or simply busy with the festivities of his wife Gloria Hale's annual _New Year, New Hope _gala? Stay tuned as we keep you updated on this developing story…I'm Chloe Sullivan…eye witness news….back to you, Jimmy!"_

* * *

"Thanks, Chlo," Jimmy Olson chimed.

_"The hits just won't stop coming in the quaint town of Charming, California,"_ Petra Gomes declared solemly. _"Barely an hour after an eyewitness came forward to speak on the Camelot Motel tragedy, Chariming PD released a sketch of the man believed to be the responsible for the murder of fifty-two year old Motel owner Gary Camden….."_

* * *

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"What part of no loose ends don't you shitheads understand?" Piney barked, glowering at the line of prospects standing side by side in the middle of the clubhouse lounge. "ATF's gonna be all over this shit, you just gave them a straight line back to us and Unser doesn't know how to answer his goddamn phone anymore!"

"We went back for the bodies—" Niko urged.

"—just like you said," Jason declared_. "The cops were already there!"_

"No way in Hell we were getting anywhere near Frankie," Miles affirmed.

"How the fuck did they even find out?" Piney barked.

"…_Eyewitness News' Lana Lang is live at the scene of a local Hardware store, where the store owner's grandson has just come forward with new information regarding the alleged perpetrator…."_

"You heard them," JT answered, nodding up at the TV mounted against the wall. "It was an anonymous tip."

Padraic, Happy, Kozik and Chibs blew in through the clubhouse's double-door entrance, one after the other—Padraic leading the pack.

"Where the Hell have you been?" JT asked quietly, eyes scanning the anger twisting the young Scotsman's normally gentle features.

"He just found some shit out about Diane," Kozik answered. "We barely got there in time before this asshole when in guns blazing with no fuckin backup."

_"Back up for what?" _Tig asked, moseying out into the lounge from the back hallway, one hand scratching his ass, the other automatically reaching to check for the guns concealed inside his Kutte. When no one answered, he looked to JT. "Quintin just called," he announced. "Bail was denied….Clay's headed off to Stockton."

* * *

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Byron Matthews raked a shaky hands through his hair, red-tinting his sweating face as his eyes briefly flitted towards the elder man nodding encouragingly at him from behind the News reporter holding a microphone near his mouth.

_"He was wearing shades over his eyes…just like that girl said in the video about the guy at the motel," _Byron stammered, scratching at the patch of curls on his chin. "_I knew something wasn't right with him…"_

* * *

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"I don't give a SHIT about what you planned," Opie bellowed. "Fuck planning. He killed my mother—"

"What?" Niko exclaimed, voicing the shock of all the wide-eyed men in the room.

Chibs, Kozik and Padraic took turns gaping at each other before glancing between Piney and JT.

"—The fuck is he talking about?" Tig asked out loud, for all of them.

"I don't need a mayhem vote," Opie continuing yelling, "I don't need my top-rocker either. That motherfucker's dead TODAY. I don't give a shit how—"

"Baby, you gotta calm d—"

"Get your hands off me," Opie snapped, jerking away from Gemma. "You're a traitorous _bitch! _You belong in the ground right with him._"_

No one came to Gemma's defense.

Not even the only one she really expected to.

"…_he had this super creepy smile…and he was wearing this…this ugly red wig…it was almost orange…and you could tell it was a wig..."_

"Hold up, be quiet y'all," Jax urged, squinting at the TV screen—his focus, entirely on the newscast.

Only Miles noticed.

"I stepped on a red wig on the living room floor at the cabin," Miles whispered to him quietly. "Did you see it?"

Jax didn't answer.

"What the Hell is going on?" Tig demanded. "What are we backing Pat up for? Who did Clay—"

"My MOTHER!" Opie barked. "Clay killed my mom!"

"Jesus Christ," Kozik mumbled, shaking his head, pulling a cigarette from the carton in his hand.

"Clay's got nowhere to run," Padriac stated, scowling. "We'll handle him later. Right now we need to find Zo—"

_"Shut up!" _Jax shouted, glaring at the group of them briefly before his blue eyes flitted back towards the screen. Gemma turned away from a livid Opie to follow her son's line of vision.

"What is it, Baby?" The fallen Matriarch asked.

* * *

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_"…..as we previously reported, seventeen year old Eviqua Michaels came forward with information regarding a strange man she spotted holding a young woman at gunpoint," _Petra Gomes reiterated. "When she sat down with a sketch artist there was no mention of the suspect wearing a red wig but after pulling video surveillance footage from the hardware store parking lot that you are watching on your screen now, Eviqua Matthews was able to confirm that….."

* * *

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_"We made the fuckin News!" _Bobby Munson announced loudly, first thing as he entered the clubhouse. "Nero wants to meet to discuss our…"

No one was listening to him, everyone's voices were raised, Padraic and Opie leading the heated debate as the gang of angry men talked over each other.

"Hey, hey, HEY!" Bobby immediately moved to jump between them as Opie shoved Padraic into the pool table. "Everybody needs to calm the fuck—"

"Shut up!" Jax yelled once again to deaf ears, blue-eyes glued to the TV screen. His shoulders were too numb to feel his mother's hand.

"…._Eviqua Matthews was able to confirm that the man she saw walking through the Camelot's parking lot and the man seen in this exclusive footage of Matthew's hardware store security cameras are one in the same…."_

* * *

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Petra Gomes and James Olson both reflexively reached for their earpieces, both News anchors tilted their head slightly, listen intently—a brief moment of silence, before they once again fixed their eyes towards the studio camera's frame.

"This just in," James Olson announced. "An unidentified female found dead, wrapped up in a tarp on the side of highway…."

* * *

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"Everybody needs to shut up!" Jax yelled, kicking out at the bar stool in front of him. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

_"….while the victim's identity has yet to be determined she is said to have to long, dark brown hair, green eyes and she looks to be between the ages sixteen and twenty….cops have also uncovered an abandoned vehicle, no license plates hidden in a ditch about three feet away from where her body had been discovered by a morning jogger…trapped inside of the truck's trunk? A terrified little girl believed to be between the ages five and seven who is…at the moment…understandably rattled and unresponsive to questioning ….authorities are still trying to…"_

"Those bikers from the other day," Niko announced, pointing towards the Teller-Morrow lot's surveillance monitor. "They're back….so is that hot blonde and her friend," he added, spotting the car in the center of the crowd pulling to a stop just before entering the lot through the unhinged metal gates.

* * *

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"As we've previously reported, what is now a _Country_-wide search has been issued for fifteen year old Tara Knowles," James Olson reported. "….the details of her disappearance are still unclear but it's been confirmed that she's been missing since early New Year's Day….and as her family and friends wait with bated breath to find out if the unidentified female victim is the missing high school sophomore, more details are pouring in as to her association with SAMCRO and how it could possibly be linked to her disappearance….one of SAMCRO's founding members, Piermont "Piney" Winston has lived next door to…."

* * *

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Jax white-knuckled the edge of the bar counter. His blue eyes glazed over, retinas glued to the TV, fixed on the reporter gracing the TV screen, watching her mouth move, no longer hearing the sound even as the room grew quiet, no longer hearing anything but his own heartbeat pounding in his eardrums, beating fast, then slower—loud….and slow…hard…and slow.

Labored.

His breath came in quick bursts, in and out too fast.

He couldn't feel the hands gripping his shoulders.

"Jackson," Gemma urged.

"_Son," _JT called, his club brothers trailing behind him as they rushed towards the bar.

Chastity Palmer and Veronica Mars were a blur of blonde hair, running into the clubhouse—Wallace Fennel, the son of the Grimm Bastard's founding President and the Mohawk-rocking biker Juan "Juice" Navarro trailing behind them, Juice toting an oversized, black messenger bag that swung along his hip.

"IT'S NOT TARA!" Chastity bellowed, wincing as her ankle banged into the leg of the overturned barstool when she skidded to a sudden stop in front of him, the three of them parting the crowd of bikers.

"It's not your girl, bro," Wallace assured, looking around at all the worried, conflicted, skeptical faces surrounding them as he slid the headphones covering his ears down to hang around his neck. "We're still tuned in at the station," he continued. "Her aunt's been there since early this morning. Gave them _Hell _when they tried to send her home. They sent a picture of the girl to I.D. right away. _It's not Tara."_

"How the Hell do you know that?" Padraic asked, speaking for the club.

"Jax," Gemma shook his shoulders, tapped her palm against his face more than a few times. _"Jackson!"_

Jax blinked once—and he saw Veronica, standing in front of him, a strained smile on her face. "We need to talk."

"We can talk in here," JT said, waving towards the open chapel doors.

Veronica shook her head, blue eyes returning to his slowly—very slowly conscious son. "_Him," _she declared. "I need to talk to _him." _Jax slowly stepped forward, Gemma's hands fell from his shoulders. "Not here," Veronica urged, wide eyes locked with an equally blue pair.

Jax nodded stiffly in understanding, and Piney scowled. "If you have info on Tara, we're," Piney directed, gesturing his hand between him and JT, "the one's you need to be talking to."

Veronica's eyes didn't waver. "_Jax?"_

Not for the first time, Jax found himself walking away from his family, following Veronica, Wallace, Juice, and Chastity out through the clubhouse entrance doors.

Padraic threw a hand out in front of Piney as he moved to follow after them. "Let em' go," the irate Scotsman said, scowling. "We need to sit down for Church and figure our shit out _now."_

"I don't give a shit about rev—"

"We got Quintin on it," Tig interjected, moving to stand next to Padraic. "And you already know Katy's gonna tell us anything that comes up first thing. Even with Unser out of play, anything new comes in on Tara we'll be right on it, Bro."

Chibs nodded. "Until then," he added. "We needed to take care of the shit that's right in front of us."

"And we need to vote on what the fuck that is," Happy barked, dark eyes flitting between Padraic and Opie's angry faces.

"Church," JT announced, walking towards the open chapel doors, "Everyone. _Now."_

Single file, the men of SAMCRO walked in behind him. Piney reached the padded double-doors last, and he paused at the threshold, turning to look back the woman standing alone by the bar_. "If I were you, I'd start running now."_

It was a deadly warning, followed by the slamming of the doors his murderous expression disappeared behind.

* * *

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"What do you know?" Jax asked the second they were out of earshot.

"F.B.I have officially named a suspect in Tara's kidnapping," Veronica told him. "His name is Joshua Kohn."

Jax nostril flared, jaw twisted back and forth. "I know," he replied. His blue eyes briefly flitted towards his mother's quickly retreating back before returning to the pint-sized blonde standing in front of him.

Veronica nodded. "I thought so," the seventeen-year private investigator replied.

None of them acknowledge the horn honking, or the rumbling of bikes clearing the path for Gemma to drive out of the lot, past Weevil and his crew.

Jax shrugged his shoulders. "They close to finding him?"

"No," Chastity answered, frowning. "Look, Jax...From what we've heard through the wiretap and what little my cousin was willing to tell me, Joshua's been stalking Tara for_ years_. He had some kind of shrine of her hidden in some room behind his closet. They believe Lowell found out about what he was doing and that's why Joshua tried to kill him."

"Last they heard back from the doctor's it sounds like that football player that goes to your high school might not make it," Wallace joined in. "They've officially ruled it attempted vehicular manslaughter."

"APB is State-wide," Chastity stated. "Amber alert for Tara, too. They'll be releasing his photograph any minute now if they haven't alr—"

"They should have done that already!" Jax yelled. "Why the fuck are you doing _their _jobs better than—"

"That's just it," Chastity said, lowering her voice as she stepped closer to him. Veronica matched her steps, moving forward.

Wallace and Juice stayed put where they were, both eighteen year old's keenly listening through the headphones covering their ears.

"Joshua's father is _F.B.I_," Veronica whispered. "They used Unser's relationship with SAMCRO to push him out. This whole media blackout story is just spin for the press. All this time Agent Kohn and his team's been sitting on their hands. Apparently one of the guys he hired as security for your friend and his mother was killed. They tried to detain his partner to keep him from talking but Chastity's aunt got him out. He reported what was going on and now Kohn's been removed."

Jax shook his head. "I don't give a shit about the Fed's," he griped. "Or who the Chief Indian is. I just want to know who's looking out for Tara and what they know." Jax's eyes darted back and forth between the two blondes staring at each other, anxiety clear in their features. "…You could have said all of this in front of them," Jax surmised, looking towards the clubhouse. "What am I missing?"

Chastity sighed, offering up a stiff nod of approval before Veronica's eyes left hers to meet Jax's perplexed expression.

"Joshua Kohn _is_ the prime suspect," Veronica stressed, "But he's not the _only _one. Right now they're still scrambling to put all the pieces together but, Jackson…._F.B.I _is pretty sure SAMCRO is involved."

"That's why Unser's still out of play," Chastity added, sympathy beaming from her light irises. "They don't trust him because of his affiliation."

"They're not," Jax argued sharply, shaking his head. "They're not involved. Not_ SAMCRO._ There were some….the men they're thinking was…_SAMCRO's not involved," _Jax declared. "There's only one redwood original I would believe was part of this shit and that asshole's been taken out of the equation. This is that psycho and the F.B.I covering up for his Old man. This isn't SAMCRO, Darlin."

"_Clay Morrow_ might not have been in your father's seat for long," Chasity mused, responding to Jax's obvious omission, "But he is still a founding member, right? How can you be sure everyone in there is more loyal to your father than him?"

Veronica shook her head. "I think the better question is, are you willing to risk it?"

"Yo, V!" Wallace shouted, pressing his headphones more firmly against his ear. "The plates were missing on the truck but they found the registration still in the glove compartment. It's registered to Sheila Kohn, psycho-dude's mother!"

"They I.D'd the girl they found on the side of the highway!" Juice announced, looking up from the police scanner software on the screen of his tablet. "Her name's Nathalie Copeland."

"The little girl that was with her," Wallace added, still listening to the Charming PD office wiretap, "Five year old Moira Copeland. Her grandparents called, said their daughter didn't show up to drop her off before her shift at St. Thomas this morning. Waited a little while before calling the police."

"They put out an APB on Copeland's truck," Juice stated. He pulled a notepad from his back pocket, scrawling across with a pencil he pulled from behind his ear. "I got the license plate number and…hold on….._cops just found her truck abandoned in a strip mall couple blocks away from the Camelot…._they're collecting surveillance footage from the security cameras outside of Scoops ice cream parlor now."

_"Scoops,_" Jax repeated.

"You know where that is?" Veronica asked.

Jax and Chastity both nodded.

"Alright, let's go."

Juice and Wallace pushed off the picnic table. It was then that the clubhouse doors were pushed open, the men of SAMCRO piling out, one by one.

There was only one member—a prospective one, that Jax was interested in.

Opie was at the front of the herd, quickly expanding the gap between his fellow leather-clad peers.

"You don't walk away! That's not how we do things!" Tig shouted at the bitter prospect. "When push comes to blood we stick together. We handle all of our shit _together!"_

"Ope, wait!" Jax slid in front of him, imploring his best friend to listen when he stopped short to glower down at him. "I just got some news about Tara," he whispered. "We need to head over to—"

"_We _ain't gotta do shit," Opie snapped, stepping around him. He jerked his arm away when Jax reached for it.

"Ope!" Jax urged, watching him as he walked towards his Harley.

"OPIE!" Kozik and Miles yelled over one another as he kept moving.

Opie didn't stop moving.

Instead he climbed on his bike and rode off.

He rode away from everyone and everything.

Including Tara.

* * *

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**_Part II _**&amp;&amp; **III **_coming soon..._

* * *

Per my facebook {Slash VeritableOldLadyCrow} some of you know the **REASON** for the update delay. For those who don't, I'll put it simply:

_Life Happens._

Hope you enjoyed and as always, I'd appreciate your (feedback) thoughts. I've been _stressing_ over getting this plot right, **agonizing **over not missing a step with these last three arcs of the story so instead of a 20-30k word update, I decided to toss you what I've written out so far and get a sense of how I'm doing.

**|REVIEW|**


	84. Chapter 73: Part II

Pay attention to the TIMELINE. Huge **24 **fan over here.

**Chapter 73: **Part **II**

**\- vERITABLE oLD lADY cROW**

* * *

_When you were here before_

_Couldn't look you in the eye_

_You're just like an angel_

_Your skin makes me cry_

_I don't care if it hurts_

_I wanna have control_

_I want a perfect body_

_I want a perfect soul_

_I want you to notice_

_When I'm not around_

_You're so fucking special_

_I wish I was special_

But I'm a creep

_I'm a weirdo_

_What the hell am I doing here?_

* * *

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_"…..as we reported earlier, the cabin you see sealed off by yellow tape behind me is owned by Charming County Judge Jacob Hale. We've reached out but neither Hale nor anyone from the esteemed Judge's camp have been available for comment. This yet to be explained link between Charming's prospective Mayoral candidate and one of the most notorious motorcycle club's in California has many of the locals speculating….will this new development take precedent over his alleged big announcement this afternoon? Eyewitness's Audrey Dessler is live in Charming at Hale Manor, covering the annual, _New Year New Hope Gala…"

"You hear this shit?" Jacob Hale growled, violently adjusting the tie around his collar. "The eve of my fuckin announcement those redneck thugs pull this shit. This was all _Clay Morrow. _Half-breed idiot is pissing on my shoes because I didn't sign off on that warehouse he wanted."

Gloria Hale's eyes never wavered from the large vanity mirror mounted above her dresser. She fingered her short, flawless cropped bob, mashing her freshly painted lips together with a subtle pop as she swung her waist side to side, appraising her backless, plunging neckline dress.

"If I were you I'd be more concerned with your coke-snorting love child making the front page," Gloria snarked, reaching for one of the dozens of diamond necklaces on her jewelry shelf. "David just phoned. They should be here any minute."

"_You _should already be downstairs greeting our guests," Jacob complained, scowling at the woman rolling her eyes at him through the mirror. "Almost everyone important has arrived. And given all the gossip and drama surrounding this family—"

"Save the lecture, Jacob," Gloria bent forward, adjusting the straps of her Zanotti sandals. "I was _acting _way before I finally decided to do the right thing and file for divorce. You keep your end of the bargain and I'll remember to bite my tongue when someone puts a camera in my face."

There were three light taps against the door. "_Mrs. Hale?"_

Gloria rolled her eyes, sighing. "Yes, Anita."

Anita Mueller pushed the door open, the ends of her black pant suit's jacket flapping behind her as she rushed inside. "We haven't been able to finish the set up for the bar and the appeti—"

"Jesus Christ," Jacob Hale barked, glaring at the cowering assistant. "I swear our teenagers can throw a better fuckin party."

"What's the problem now?" Gloria droned, rubbing her temple.

"I've already contacted the catering company _three times," _Anita urged. "I spoke with the owner _personally—"_

"Then what's the problem?" Jacob interrupted again.

"They claim the order's been filled," Anita explained, pulling her cellphone out, no doubt to call again. "Mr. Almeida has assured me that he's been in direct contact with the driver doing the delivery. He had some issues on the road, traffic for this event has been cr—"

"_Which is why he should have left early—"_

"—and a few road blocks given all the crime scenes and craziness going on in Charming right—"

"Fine," Gloria waved off the rest of her explanation. "What's his ETA?"

"He better be quick or we might have to dip into your _personal stock _for the wine," Jacob Hale sneered, walking past to pick up the stack of papers from the nightstand on his side of the bed. "I'll be down in fifteen minutes," he stated, walking past them. "Make sure the camera crew they sent from channel 7 is ready. I expect _you _to already be down there shaking hands and _pretending _you give a shit…as usual."

Gloria barely acknowledged her husband's harsh tone as his words trailed off the further he made it to his private study, to practice his speech.

"You know his bastard daughter refused to sleep here?" Gloria shook her head in disgust at the door her husband disappeared behind. "It's a pity he didn't rent his little Princess a room at the Camelot. Maybe if she crossed paths with that maniac on the loose, Jake could have won a few sympathy votes."

Anita's cheeks reddened. Gloria laughed as the young woman turned away from her thoughtful expression, embarrassment clear in her features as she focused on the large bay window-sized view of Hale Manor's front yard. _"He's here," _Anita announced gleefully, pointing towards the large, _ALMEIDA'S __PREMIER CATERING _truck slowly approaching the check in at the gates.

"Good," Gloria commented, stepping back a few spaces to get one final look at her gorgeous appearance, before heading out into the hallway. "Make sure you let Paul know that the driver's to head straight for the service entrance. And whoever this guy is, he better move quickly."

"Right away," Anita answered to her retreating back as she reached for the radio clipped to her waist. "Paul, this is Anita. Make sure the catering guy—"

_"And make sure you keep an eye on Sarah," _Gloria instructed as she click-clacked her way to the staircase. "Make sure the whore of Babylon stays away from the open bar!"

"I also need you to let me know the _second_ Sarah and David Hale arrive," Anita quickly added, sprinting from the room to join the bustling event downstairs.

* * *

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"You really need to relax," Joshua crooned, tapping the shaking man's shoulder. Sweat beaded James Wayland's forehead, his bushy mustache rustled with every rushed, labored breath as he peered up at the nineteen year old casually pointing a gun at his seventeen year old son through the rearview mirror of the truck. "Hey, Junior!" Joshua called, nodding up at the equally terrified teenager. "Tell your Old man to relax. He's already doing everything I asked him to. As long as he continues, there's nothing to worry about….okay?"

"Why are you doing this?" Leonard Wayland groaned, peering over at the green-eyed brunette hugging her knees as she silently rocked back and forth next to him. "Why is he doing this, Tara? He's s-s-supposed to be a….he's our….he's _your _tutor…._What the fuck did you get me mixed up in? WHY THE FUCK IS THIS HAPPENING? WHAT DID YOU DO?"_

Tara's eyes snapped towards him, guilt shining in the green. Before she could open her mouth, the gun in Joshua's hand clicked, the chilling sound of a bullet sliding into its chamber eliciting a horrified gasp from her throat instead of the apology on the tip of her tongue. "Joshua, NO!" Tara screeched, trying and failing to reach for the arm extending the gun in his hand with the cuffs still closed around her wrists. "P-p-please…..I don't want to see anyone else die….Please…just…just…he's s-s-sorry okay? Right, Lenny? Tell him you d-d-didn't mean it."

"Lenny?" Joshua turned towards her, his features darkening more. "You gave him a nickname? I didn't realize you two were so close…"

"We're_ not_," Leonard practically screamed, holding his hands up in surrender. He shook his head, teeth rattling. "Look, if this about the rumor I spread, I-I-I'm sorry, okay?"

Joshua cocked his head sideways. "What rumor?"

"We're here," James Wayland announced loudly, successfully distracting the nineteen year old menace sitting behind him.

Joshua raised up on his knees, clutching the pistol in his hand tightly, blue-eyes widening with excitement as the truck slowly pulled to a stop. Tapping lightly against his shoulder with the gun, he reminded the man sitting behind the wheel in a fervent whisper, "_One wrong move and your son dies."_

"Good afternoon," James Wayland stammered as he rolled down his window.

"I don't know how good yours will be, Sir," Private security officer Paul Martin joked, smirking at him. "Mrs. Hale is _not _happy with you or your company."

"Yes, I uh…ran into a few road blocks a-a-and—"

"Yeah, sure, Whatever Pal," Officer Martin waved the man's excuse off, pointing up towards the road. "Keep driving straight until you reach the fountain. Turn right and keep driving straight again until you pass the garden. Pool house should be straight ahead, turn left again and you'll be right at the service entrance."

"Thank you," James Wayland said, nodding his head as he pressed his foot on the gas, slowly easing in through the Hale Manor gates.

"HOLD UP A SEC!"

The nervous trucker hit the breaks hard, glancing nervously through his rearview mirror at the gun-wielding man cocked an eyebrow at him, aiming the weapon at his son with one hand.

Officer Martin, jogged up to the driver's side, looking up towards him. "I forgot to make a copy of your I.D."

"You're doing great," Joshua told him as the officer walked off to scan his identification through the security system. "The hard part's almost over, _Jim._" Joshua looked towards the cowering seventeen year old across from him, smiled at him, showing all of his pearly-white teeth. "You know what? I'm in too good a mood to dwell on that _insulting _outburst of yours moments ago. All you have to do is apologize to my fiancée and I'll re-invite you to our wedding."

* * *

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Jax was leaning against his bike, tapping his foot impatiently as Veronica pulled her car to a stop in the nearly empty strip-mall parking lot. He was pulling her door open for her before she could even reach for the handle. Wallace gently knocked her hand away before she could pull the keys from the ignition.

"You should probably leave it on," Wallace suggested, taking out one of the earbuds of his headphones.

Juice nodded in agreement. "That way he can keep listening in to the news report and the wiretap while I'm on the police scanner."

"We'll come and get you if something new comes up," Wallace assured.

"Thanks, Guys," Chastity replied, sliding out of the backseat.

Veronica nodded her appreciation as she climbed out of her car to greet the sixteen year old pacing along the side of her car.

"I already spoke to the guy running _Scoops," _Jax bickered, scowling towards the plate-glass window of the ice cream parlor. "That asshole's lucky I didn't punch him in the fucking throat….asking me why I'm not in school instead of playing detective. He wouldn't have even fixed his mouth to say some slick shit like that if I was wearing a Kutte…..JT should be here...all of the guys should be _with us..._I can't believe they're going off on some club bullshit instead of helping find Tara," Jax grumbled angrily to himself. "And _Opie_—"

"Look, Jax," Veronica said, standing in front of him. "I got my own family dysfunction to deal with back at home so I can't even begin to tell you how to deal with yours. But in all honesty? It's better for us that they're not here."

Jax scowled. "I already _told you _the club's not involved with—"

"Even so," Chastity urged. "There isn't much your father's club can do right now. So instead of dwelling on their absence, let's just see if we can find a reason to call them away from…._whatever it is they're doing."_

"What are they doing exactly?" Veronica wondered aloud.

Jax rolled his eyes, walking past them, headed towards the mini-mart in the center of the lot. "They're out selling Girl Scout cookies."

Chastity laughed. "Hopefully whoever opened for the mini-mart will be more helpful."

* * *

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Darlene Richardson looked up from the gossip magazine spread open on the checkout counter in front of her at the sound of the bells chiming above the front entrance doors of _Richie Rich's Deli &amp; Bakery. _"Good afternoon," Darlene chirped, grinning at the three teenagers approaching her. "It's a pity you missed our breakfast special but our lunch deals are just as amazing. Our Pastrami melt with potato—"

"Hi, I'm sorry," Veronica interrupted, her smile just as sweet. "We aren't actually here for food."

"_I will _take me a blueberry scone though," Chastity mumbled, winking at the cashier as she searched her back pocket for money to buy one of the freshly-baked pastries on the rack in front of her.

"Well, alright then," Darlene replied. She squinted her eyes curiously as she glanced back and forth between the pint-sized teenage sleuth and her handsome, blue-eyed companion. "What can I do you for?"

"We were hoping we could ask you a few questions about the abandoned car that was left in the parking lot earlier today. The one linked to the murder victim they found—"

"Oh yes!" Darlene frowned, empathy shining in her delicate features. "This world is getting crazier every day. Such a tragedy. My brother Pacey went to prom with her. Of course she ended up cheating on him and getting pregnant by his best friend but still, _no one_ deserves what happened to her. And that _poor little girl!"_

Veronica nodded in agreement. "The cops pulled the surveillance video from the ice cream parlor two doors down. I understand that was the only functioning camera in the lot."

"I've been harping at my grandpa to get the security cameras fixed for months," Darlene grumbled, shaking her head.

"You were the first one on the lot this morning?" Veronica questioned.

Darlene nodded. "I always come to work at least an hour before opening time to make sure the fridge and shelves are stocked properly. And I also prepare the breakfast specials for our most longstanding customer. Lord knows Anthony doesn't do much but sit on his fat old average and eat up all the croissants like I won't n—"

"Were you the one that called in for the towing company to come pick up the car?" Veronica pressed on, glancing at an increasingly frustrated Jax.

"Yeah," Darlene admitted, looking guilty. "I hated to do it but Grandpa has some sort of handshake deal with Roger, the guy that owns the towing—"

"Do you have _any _information that can actually _help_ us?" Jax interrupted finally.

Darlene's eyebrows threaded together. "Help you with what? What exactly are you…is this something you're doing for your school newspaper or—"

_"No, it's not for a fuckin newspaper!" _Jax barked, nostrils flaring.

Veronica placed a hand on his shoulder. "We're friends of Tara Knowles," she explained as the wide-eyed clerk drank in the rage in his features. "She's the girl that's been on the news—"

"_Oh dear God!" _Darlene gasped, clapping a hand to her face. "I'm so sorry! Gammie and I been praying for her safe return ever since we saw the—"

"That's great," Jax interjected, stepping closer. "That's really great, but the news hasn't connected all the dots yet and if they have someone's stopping them from reporting it."

"The guy linked to the murder of Natalie Copeland _and _the Camelot owner are the same," Chastity explained.

"Her cousin's a Deputy," Veronica pointed towards a nodding Chastity. "And she's all but confirmed that the girl seen being held captive by the motel's witness was Tara."

"I didn't see that," Darlene reached for the remote behind the counter to turn on the tiny television above her head.

Jax gently placed a hand on her wrist before she could aim it at the black screen to get lost in the news cycle. "The cops are covering their tracks," he explained. "The psycho who's doing all of this is the son of one of the federal agent's in charge of finding Tara."

"Oh my Lord," Darlene's frown deepened. She raked a hand through her hair. "Well I'm sorry, Dear. If there was something I knew that could help you I'd be more than happy to…_excuse me one second," _Darlene reached for the phone ringing beside her. "Hello," she said into the receiver. "_Hey, Maggie….I'm fine! How's the nursery coming along? Really? Hmmm….sounds like Lenny's already warming up to the big brother role….Yeah," _Darlene pulled a receipt tucked inside her abandoned magazine.

"She doesn't know anything that'll help us," Jax muttered, turning on his heel to leave.

Veronica and Chastity were walking off behind him when Veronica stopped suddenly.

"What is it?" Chastity wondered, the same question reflecting in Jax's eyes when he looked back at them.

"I told you my Old man used to be a sheriff," Veronica whispered, still keenly listening to the phone conversation beside them.

_ "I have the order already prepared…finished it half hour ago. It's in the crisper with the….Oh, I have no idea…he should have been here by now….So far I haven't seen him at all today…_.Nope…_.He didn't even stop by to pick up his usual breakfast order for him and the guys this morning either. I was actually going to call and make sure everything was okay…."_

Jax shook his head, shoulder's rising. "Yeah?"

"There's something he always said when he was conducting an investigation," Veronica mused, eavesdropping still. "Once is an _incident, _two's a _coincidence…_and—"

"_Three's a pattern," _Chastity finished, gradually following her train of thought.

"A lot of craziness going on," Veronica mused. "And most of it's already been connected to the guy who has Tara...give them a little more time and they'll probably link him to the cabin massacre."

"You think he's connected to Joshua?" Chasity questioned, glancing over the young woman chattering away on the phone about her missing customer.

Jax glanced between the two pensive blondes. "_Who's_ connected to _what?"_

Veronica's head snapped towards the checkout counter as Darlene uttered a cheery goodbye into the cordless phone's receiver before sliding it onto the charger.

"Sorry about that," Darlene apologized, holding up the tiny, white paper still in her hand. "That was Margaret Wayland. Remember the Pastrami melt special I was telling ya about? Her and her husband are two of my regular cust—"

"Yeah, we gathered that," Veronica urged, the three of them walking back towards her. "I couldn't help overhearing…you said Margaret's husband…."

"_James," _Darlene supplied, nodding. "Handsome man...hard worker to. She married _up _from her high school sweet heart, I tell ya."

"He always orders breakfast and picks it up—"

"Every morning Monday through Friday," Darlene answered, pursing her lips. "Maggie even pops in to get brunch for the family on Saturdays. Sometimes they even eat here," she added, nodding towards the row of small, round tables lining the front of the store. She glanced at the watch on her wrist. "He's usually done with his early shift deliveries by now. Lenny's been helping him out when he doesn't have SAT prep and what have you. I guess they're probably pretty slammed with this fundraiser that crook judge Hale and his wife are having this afternoon….."

* * *

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Lights flashed, the collective shutters, the crisp snaps of the cameras capturing every angle of the beautiful family standing at the room's center saturating the air as Jacob Hale cleared his throat loudly, smiling into the crowd surrounding them.

"Good afternoon," boomed Judge Hale's voice through the microphone in his hand. "First and foremost, my family and I would like to thank all of you for coming out to support a cause that has been near and dear to us ever since my lovely wife," Gloria's smile of appreciation was perfect for the moment he slid a hand around her slender waist, "started the New Year, New Hope foundation well over a decade ago. This is a charity that isn't just important to our community here in Charming…but to all of those in the world that have been affected by incurable diseases such as Cancer—"

_"And I thought we were here to listen to your big_ announcement...now I feel _kinda _bad."

Everyone turned their heads towards a young man and his father walking stiffly towards the front of the room. The smiling face of the nineteen year old who'd spoke out remained hidden—until he finally urged the father and son towards the shocked, gasping crowd in front of them.

_"OH MY GOD!"_

_"THAT'S THE GIRL FROM THE NEWS!"_

_"HOLY SHIT!"_

_"THAT'S THE_—"

"I _thought he had red hair?"_

The crowd grew loud, abuzz with bewilderment, fear and outrage as they took in the fifteen year old girl standing arm-in-arm with him, clearly against her will.

"TARA!" David and Sarah both yelled, moving from their brother Jacob Jr.'s side to step towards her.

Tara shook her head quickly, green eyes ballooning just as she felt the cool metal brush past her ear as he extended it towards the two anxious siblings.

"He's got a—"

"HE'S GOT A GUN!"

They immediately stopped moving as yet another chorus of gasps and jumbled words echoed through the crowd.

Immediately people began running, screaming served as the soundtrack as the crowd scattered, some ducking, some pulling cellphones from their pockets as they quickly retreated.

Jacob turned towards Anita. "_WHERE THE HELL IS MY HEAD OF SECURIT—"_

Everyone in the room—except Joshua Kohn—jumped, startled by the loud boom sounding outside, gawking in wide-eyed horror as the ground beneath them shook from the explosion detonated at the front yard of Hale manor.

Guest nearing the exits, stopped short at once, backpedaling—scurrying away from the doors.

"I'm afraid the head of your security won't be joining the party," Joshua commented, grinning over at the security officer's nearest to him. He quickly pressed the gun in his hand to Tara's temple. "Neither will the cop's once they realize that the bomb that just went off aren't the only emulex-explosives surrounding this _lovely _mansion you've got here," he warned, smiling at Jacob Hale.

"_Shh..shh..shh," _Joshua urged, whispering in her ear as Tara shook violently, squeezing her eyes shut tight. "You know I'd never really hurt you," he crooned, his voice only high enough for her to hear. "But they can't know that…"

Joshua winked at the hazel-eyed teenager glaring at him.

"What the Hell are you doing?" David Hale barked. "LET HER GO!"

"TARA!" Sarah screamed. It was all she could say as moisture pooled in her grey eyes.

"Be a dear, _Tar-Tar," _Joshua instructed, nodding towards the elder Hale in the mix. "Reach over and get that Mic from the future Mayor of Charming."

Tara's hand shook as she reached towards him, silently begging with her eyes for his compliance.

"_Hale here, is right," _Joshua announced, smiling as he spoke into the microphone he held with the arm he snaked around Tara's waist. "It is indeed a _good _afternoon and the day will be even more amazing once I'm able to take this gun away from my beloved's head. But _first…._I must warn you..._No one _is going to ruin our special day…."

David lunged.

Tara screamed with everyone else as the gun was pulled away from her face.

Joshua fired a single shot, aimed directly as David's chest.

One by one the Hale's fell to their knees, Gloria Hale the first to reach for him as her youngest son clutched at the scarlet red stain bleeding into his white shirt.

"_No one," _Joshua echoed. He pressed the gun against her temple once more.

"DAVEY!" Sarah cried.

Gloria shook her head, cradling his head in her lap as her husband snatched the shawl Anita held out to him, pressing it hard against their son's chest. "Stay with me, David...stay with me, Son..."

Trapped in his arms, Tara didn't even noticed the metal pressed against her temple.

She cried out in anguish as her first boyfriend's eyes rolled upwards, towards the back of his head.

* * *

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"You said he's working for the Hale's?" Chastity asked, eyebrows rising.

Darlene nodded. "No, he's just del—"

Bells chimed as Wallace pushed the entrance doors open, Juice swiftly trailing behind him.

"They found him!" Wallace shouted, pointing needlessly at the headphones hanging from his shoulders.

"Where?" Jax, Chasity and Veronica asked altogether.

"He's at some fundraiser at—"

"_Hale Manor?" _Chastity cut in.

Juice nodded, dark brown eyes stretching. "This is some crazy shit, bro," he commented looking at Jax.

"Is Tara—is she...is she...okay?" Jax forced himself to ask.

"They don't know—"

"The fuck you mean, they don't know?" Jax snapped, temper flaring. "Then how do th—"

"_Oh My God."_

All five teenagers turned towards a slack-jawed Darlene as she absently continued pointing the remote in her hand towards the TV above them, the volume turned all the way up as several men wearing mustard yellow Kevlar suits worked in tandem to douse the fire blazing at Hale Manor's front gates.

* * *

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_"What the Hell is this shit!"_ Dewey Crowe shrieked. The gator-tooth necklace around his neck flapped against the Aryan ink on his chest as he struggled against the plastic restraints holding hands behind his back, as he pointlessly struggled against the blindfold over his eyes—thrashing and cursing the whole trip up the dirt road to the warehouse where they waited. "I'm an American citizen!" Dewey harped as he was shoved forward, to the ground. "This some real unlawful bullshit! My Anne-sisters fled Harlan County for this same kinna behavior…and that was _after _they won three hunnit thousands dollars for the un-conjurable mistreatment of—"

"The word's _unconscionable _idiot," Unser kicked the babbling fool in his ass. "Shut up!"

Padraic was the first to step forward, snatching the bandana covering his eyes away.

"_Oh shit." _

Dewey's eyes flitted from the young biker he used to cut school to smoke up with to the group of equally murderous leather-clad men standing behind him.

He shot up from the ground like a firecracker, rose up on his knees, hobbling away. It took little effort for Padraic to grab him by the back of his neck. Chibs joined the effort—both Scotsman dragging him towards the chair they had waiting for him. "Sit Down," he barked needlessly.

Unser scratched at the fine hairs on his prematurely balding head. "I picked him up like you asked," he declared, looking over at a silent, unreadable Johnathan Teller. "Thanks to you I'll be sleeping on the couch for the next few nights. I already broke my promise to escort Laura to the Hale's. Hopefully she hasn't found her a new husband at the gala already." JT nodded stiffly, barely acknowledging the suit and tie wearing Chief of Police's words as he turned his attention towards the short, spiky-haired man staring nervously at the SAMCRO members circling him.

Unser stepped towards the MC leader, his voice lowering an octave as he addressed him. "Listen," Unser told him. "There's a reason I haven't been much help to you these past couple days. My whole office is a fuckin mess. F.B.I stepped in and took over…bastards even had me locked up at one point. And it's my relationship with the club that allowed them to do it. Camera crews on every corner? My _well-documented _interactions with SAMCRO? Too much has happened and at this point it's not just my job on the line. It's this _town _that's in jeopardy. And I can't do my job…the job I was elected to do. I can't serve and protect if I got the higher-up's questioning my motives and camping out on my front lawn. I won't even get into what our friendship is doing to my _marriage._"

JT's smirk lacked humor, the slightest hint of emotion—expertly contained anger flashing in his eyes. "Friendship?"

Unser nodded. "I gotta take a step back," he told the SAMCRO President. "You and the MC are gonna have to manage without me until things are back like they should be."

"I'll be in touch," JT responded, turning away from him.

"Did you not just hear me?" Unser frowned, brows furrowing. "I'm done helping you and your—"

"_Just stay by your phone," _JT barked. The bite in his tone matched the contemptuous threat darkening his normally impassive eyes.

JT turned his back to him again, leaving Unser no other choice but to leave to meet his wife at the gala he should have arrived at well over and hour ago.

"Hey…hey….HEY!" Dewey screamed. "You're a lawman! What you leaving me here with—_what the fuck—"_

"He can't help you," Padraice stated simply. Reaching for his face, his fingernails dug into Dewey's cheeks as he tilted his head up towards him—giving the brown-eyed captive a quick glimpse into the barrel of the gun in his hand before it was pressing against the center of his forehead.

"I suggest you help yourself," Bobby chimed in, others nodding menacingly in agreement.

"What d-d-did…I didn't….COME ON, MAN!" Dewey yelled, lips trembling. "I DIDN'T DO NOTHIN!"

Padraic nodded, the cinnamon gum in his mouth popping as he chewed. "You told me you were just the lookout," Padraic said. "_I wanna know what you saw."_

* * *

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_"Hi….my name is Tara Knowles…..and this _amazing _man…_(sobs)…._is my fiancée…this is a special invitation….I'd like to warmly welcome you….to the b….to the best day of m-yy life….._our wedding day…"

* * *

"Seen here in this chilling video is fifteen year old Tara Knowles, visibly struggling to maintain her composure...choking back tears as she relays a message to the world…."

Petra Gomes pursed her lips grimly as she stared directly into the studio camera. "Eyewitness's Chloe Sullivan who arrived only moments ago is live at Hale Manor covering this developing story of what has officially been declared…a hostage situation.

* * *

**0-8888888-0**

_"Yes, Petra,"_ Chloe Sullivan nodded, briefly glancing back at the chaos unfurling behind her. "_I'm here, standing just outside of the police's sealed off perimeter of Hale Manor where a heartfelt charity event has turned into a hostage situation. Reports confirm there are as many as _eighty_ guests that remain captive inside. Among the victims is _Tara Knowles_….As we previously reported, Tara is a fifteen year old girl that went missing early New Year's Day….up until now authorities have been tightlipped, refusing to release the name of the suspect they believed to be involved in her disappearance… Eyewitness news can officially report that Tara's kidnapper is Joshua F. Kohn, the nineteen year old son of Robert Kohn….the F.B.I Agent who only just a few hours ago was running point on the investigation…."_

Officers swarmed the gates of Hale Manor, suited up in all black, from head to toe—helmets and goggles made it impossible to distinguish one from another by any means other than height or weight.

Uniformed men with messenger bags dangling at their sides followed the lead of the dogs sniffing the multi-acred ground surrounding the mansion.

_"It has been one catastrophic event after another here in the small town of Charming, California," _Chloe surmised. "_This latest development is believed to the be the final maneuver in a series of deadly attacks Joshua Kohn has carried out in an effort to make this day…._his wedding to the teenage girl he's allegedly been stalking for several years…._front page news…."_

* * *

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"Padraic….come on man….you _gotta believe me, Man," _Dewey moaned. Blood dripped from his split lip as he shook his head, staring up at the heavy-breathing Scotsman standing in front of him. "_I don't know nothing! _They told me to guard the door….that's why I did, Man. I didn't know what they were gonna do! I didn't know it was your girl they got to. You're a fuckin patch for crying out loud. When your boss tells you to do something you do it, don't ya?!"

Padraic glanced over his shoulder, green eyes glowering as they met JT's. "You ever give me orders to gang-rape an eighteen year old girl?"

"I DIDN'T RAPE HER!" Dewey yelled, eyes wilds as he struggled against the restraints still around his wrist, bumping his back against the metal chair as he tried to sit up straighter. "Is that what she told you? Why the fuck would she tell you that? I didn't rape nobody! I _helped her! _I helped! I'm the reason she's still alive, alright? I _Helped—"_

Padraic's nails dugs into his skin as he pulled Dewey out of the chair by his throat—so close he could count the beads of sweat peppering the bridge of his nose. "_You Helped her? _Is that what you did? You think standing outside while they…..they…._you think that was helping her?"_

"Well she's alive ain't she?"

"YOU DIDN'T HELP SHIT!" Padraic shoved him back, the chair flipped over underneath—Dewey cried out in pain as his ankle twisted and snapped.

"I'M SORRY ALRIGHT!" Dewey shouted, lying sideways, not even bothering to move to sit up. "I did all I could do! Zobelle and Weston were still there when they…well, you know….and I didn't know it was her or I would have told ya—"

"BULLSHIT!"

"Alright, well maybe I wuddn't gonna tell you, but I mean….come on, Man. What the fuck was I supposed to do?"

"_Padraic." _

Padraic looked up, drinking in the regretful expression on JT's face.

JT briefly glanced down at the cowering man on the ground, flitting back up to meet his tormentor's eyes. "I'm sorry, Son," JT expressed. "But this idiot is just one person on a long list of shit we need to handle."

"All of this _shit," _Dewey griped, drawing everyone's attention back to him. "Your club started it. You just had to prove a point….show Zobelle how big your dick was….then he decided to use that Gemma Teller bitch….guess he figured y'all are all momma's boys and you….Shit, I don't remember what the fuck he said," Dewey sat up slowly, dark brown-eyes locked with green. "I thought it was Gemma…I couldn't do nothing about that either…but Diane was always nice to me…let me copy all her work and shit when we was littler…I _liked_ her…"

Padraic smiled. "You always had a thing for her," he mused, smirking. "Probably would have fucked her behind my back if you thought you could get over."

"Shit," Dewey chuckled. "You're damn straight," he agreed. Then he shook his head, eyes widening. "But not without _her _permission you know… I'm not into that. I was—"

"_Just following orders," _Padraic nodded, holding a hand out to help him up. Dewey hesitated briefly before accepting it, flinched when he pulled the KA-BAR from his waist—let out an exasperated breath of relief when he merely used it to cut him free of the plastic restraints around his wrist.

"I know you were just following orders, Brutha," Padraic admitted quietly. "…I shouldn't fault you for that…not when you saved her life. And the truth is…without you I would have never put all the pieces together."

Slowly, Padraic pulled the bewildered Aryan brotherhood member into a hug, patting him lightly on his back, glancing over his shoulder at his Uncle Chibs as he muttered, "I really appreciate you telling me the truth," he pressed a kiss to his cheek, his breath tickled the fine hairs of eardrum as he whispered a promise. "_I'll make sure it's quick."_

"Huh?" Dewey pulled away, stepping back, eyebrows bunching together. "Make what q—"

Padraic didn't react—didn't even blink an eye as Chibs raised the gun in his hand, firing once—the thud of Dewey hitting ground when the bullet pierced his skull drowning out the vibrating sound of the phone JT slowly pulled from the breast pocket of his Kutte.

_"Yeah,"_ JT answered, watching as Happy and Tig moved forward—as the rest of the club members worked in tandem, handling the cleanup and disposal of Dewey Crowe's body. "Hold on a…_Jackson, slow down…_Tara _what?"_

Piney's head was the first to snap towards him, he dropped his end of the heavy-duty tarp they were wrapping the body in. Everyone watched, studying JT's impassive expression as he held the prepaid cellphone to his ear.

"What did Jackie find—"

"_He's got something on Tara?" _Piney demanded, cutting Chibs off, stepping ahead of Kozik and Miles who were standing closer to the man with all the answers.

JT nodded once. "They found Tara," he replied, snapping the cellphone shut. "The college kid that's been tutoring her is the one that snatched her. Apparently his father's a FED."

"Jesus Christ," Tig hissed.

Bobby shook his head, pulling at the long, thick strands of his beard. "No wonder the cops ain't telling us shit! You think Unser knew about this?"

"He had to," Happy growled. "I told you we should have killed that mother—"

_"Where is she now?"_ Piney interjected, fingers ghosting over the gun holstered underneath his Kutte.

"Hale Manor," JT answered. "Cops got the whole place locked down. That charity event the Hale's are having today...He's holding everyone hostage inside the mansion…._including your girl."_

* * *

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"_It has been two hours since nineteen year old Joshua Kohn, the son of F.B.I Agent Robert Kohn took Judge Jacob Hale, his wife and children, and the eighty plus guest list hostage in the Hale's family mansion you see taped off behind me," _Chloe Sullivan reported.

_"...This afternoon was the Hale's New Year, New Hope foundation's twenty-third annual benefit gala, with many of the invited guest being prominent members of the community, including Charming chief Wayne Unser's wife….Also trapped inside….Tara Knowles, the fifteen year old girl that went missing on New Year's Day, now revealed to have been kidnapped by the young man who is allegedly responsible for most, if not all, of the tragic events recurring throughout Charming County this week….Kohn has made it very clear….He has a precise list of demands that are _nonnegotiable…._the very first was met within the first hour of local P.D's arrival, when channel 7 released exclusive footage of Tara Knowles….an invitation to their wedding…Kohn's second demand? _A notarized letter, signed by Tara Knowles' father _Arthur_ Knowles, signed and approved by a judge…granting parental consent for…."

* * *

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"I'M NOT SIGNING A GODDAMN THING!" Arthur Knowles screamed.

"Sir, you need to calm down," Detective Brigance urged, bracing both hands against his shoulders.

"THAT BOY IS A FUCKIN LUNATIC!" Arthur knocked his hands away, pacing violently back and forth as the uniformed men surrounding him rushed to move out of his path. "HE'S GOT MY DAUGHTER! YOU NEED TO GO IN THERE AND GET HER—"

"_Art," _Diane pleaded, forcing her way through—completely oblivious to the two officers giving her husband Duncan a hard time entering the large trailer. "Arthur listen to me….it's not legally binding no matter what you sign…or a judge signs…it doesn't matter…it isn't real—"

_"Then why is he demanding—"_

_"BECAUSE HE'S DELUSIONAL!" _Diane yelled over him. "We need to play along….as long as he thinks he's getting what he wants he won't hurt her."

"He won't hurt anyone_ else_," Detective Brigance declared. "I've already made myself very clear. Another bomb goes off…another person gets shot, all bets are off….we come in strong and try our best to minimize the casualties."

"_Please,_" Diane begged. "This is someone she grew up with…someone she cares about….Gracie would want you to help him."

"Sir," Sargent Vincent greeted, pulling the cellphone from his ear as he approached the impatiently waiting detective. "Rory just called it in….Judge Matthews is thirty minutes out. He should be here in the next ten minutes."

"We need an answer," Detective Brigance urged, glancing at the Knowle's huddled together in the center of the room.

"Can't _anybody_ sign it?" Duncan asked, finally joining the group. "He won't know the difference."

"This guy's been stalking her for at _least_ a year," Detective Brigance shook his head. "Probably checking her mail, her email, everyone involved in her life. We _cannot _risk him thinking we're deceiving him for any reason."

"Fine I'll do it," Arthur nodded. "I'll do it, but I want to be the one to give it to him. Let me go in and—"

"No!" Diane shrieked.

Every officer in the room shook their head in agreement. "That's not an option, Sir. _I'm sorry."_

* * *

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"_Breaking News in Charming, California where local and federal authorities are attempting to apprehend a hostage taker, holding well over fifty victims captive, a lot of them locals, including Charming's Chief Deputy Wayne Unser's wife," _Jimmy Olson announced. "_Eyewitnesses Chloe Sullivan is live at Hale Manor where Jordan Brigance, the Detective leading the hostage negotiations has successfully secured the release of one of the hostages…."_

* * *

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"_Another Charming High School star," _Chloe Sullivan stated. _"But he's more than just a scholar in the classroom….he's also the star out on the field. David Hale, CHS's star Quarterback has just been released and is seeking immediate medical attention for a gunshot wound to the abdomen. Authorities were willing to make the trade….Judge Jacob Hale's son in exchange for parental consent from Arthur Knowles….to wed his daughter…..Now…It is not yet clear why sixteen year old David was shot….but several Charming locals, some that we've interview here on site, question whether or not jealousy was the actual motive that leaves sixteen year old David Hale...in critical condition..."_

* * *

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_"David's been in love with Tara since like forever," _Stacy Wilson flipped her hair, smiling into the camera as if the abc7 news crew were interviewing her at a cheerleading competition instead of a crime scene. _"They went out for like a year. Whoever this crazy guy is, David probably tried to save her and that's why he got shot."_

* * *

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_"What the Hell took you so long?"_ Jax growled the second he laid eyes on his father and the rest of SAMCRO shoving their way through the crowd.

Piney bypassed the interrogation. "Where's Unser?" Piney nodded towards the barricaded Hale Manor gate. "He inside there?"

Jax nodded stiffly, nostrils flaring. "Unser's a lame duck," the angry, blue-eyed teenager griped. "Grandpa's persona fuckin non-grata. They let him through but he's not in play."

Piney scowled, cocking his head sideways. "How do you—"

"Katy's been checking in with me," Chastity lied. "She gives me an update whenever we—"

_"I borrowed some of my father's old equipment from when he used to be sheriff in my hometown_," Veronica admitted, holding up the walkie-talkie in one hand, patting the Taser clipped to her hip with the other one.

Juan "Juice" Navarro shrugged his shoulders as the anxious biker's blue eyes fell on him next. "I'm really good at hacking into shit."

Wallace was next. "I'm just the token black guy," he joked. "I'm kinda made for this shit, ya know? Breaking the law? Chaos and mayhem? You can ask my Old man T.O. I hear him and his club's on their way out here."

JT merely smiled, while the rest of SAMCRO's eyes widened in surprised.

"This kinda shit doesn't run in your blood, Son," JT commented, eyes touching on his own son, locked with Jax's piercing blue. "Just 'cause your Old man's a rascal son of a bitch doesn't mean that's your path."

Jax rolled his eyes. "Seriously, JT? You can't be a fortune cookie some other t—"

"_He's giving them his next demand!" _Juice announced, immediately silencing the crowd of them huddled along the gate, several feet away from the crowd of citizens demanding entry inside the gate to check on their captive loved ones.

"What is it?" Piney and Jax asked at the same time.

"He said he's willing to release ten hostages," Juice recited, listening intently through the large headphones stretched between his and Veronica's ears. "If they…."

"If they what?" Everyone around them demanded when his sentence trailed off.

"Jesus Christ," Juice's eyes widened, Veronica flashed Jax the most remorseful expression he'd ever seen. "This guy really is a fuckin nutjob."

"He wants them to pick up and deliver the custom wedding gown he bought for her," Veronica told them. "He wants the tux he picked out for himself….And he wants the video footage that the camera crew inside film to be streamed live on every news station…."

"He wants his _marriage _to Tara to be televised so everyone can see it," Juice finished, twirling a finger in circles next his ear.

* * *

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"Are you ready to talk about it?" Donna asked, scaling her fingers down his naked his chest. Opie reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips—lightly kissed her knuckles, threaded his fingers through hers.

"Not yet," Opie told her, turning over to lay his back, hazel eyes facing the ceiling.

Donna sighed, frowning at the dried tears still staining his cheeks as she sat up on her elbows, rustling the thin sheets covering them. "I wish I could tell you Tara was going to be okay," she said quietly. "That they'd find her soon and everything would work out but I can't, Baby...All I can guarantee you is that I_ know_ Piney and the club are doing everything they can to find her…to protect her."

"Piney couldn't even protect her from his club," Opie hissed, glaring up at the ceiling. "The club started this whole shit."

"Yes, but there's no way they're involved in what Joshua did," Donna assured. "Unser still helps out right? So he can give you guys information as soon as he gets it."

Opie snorted. "Grandpa is useless."

"Okay," Donna argue gently. "But you can't put this on your father just because you're angry with him."

Opie turned to face her. "You don't even know what he's done—"

"I will if you _tell me,_" Donna urged, sitting up completely. "Come on, Opie. When you first told me you were prospecting for SAMCRO, you _promised me_…you said you wouldn't shut me out."

"I know."

"So then let me in," Donna insisted. "What don't I know?"

Opie laid back again, tucking his hands behind his head, hazel eyes glued to ceiling once more. "You remember that park we went to a couple days after Jax's birthday…the one that near the Oregon border?"

Donna smiled at the memory—the four of them splitting off, Tara and Jax doing God knows what down at the river while they found a spot at the top of the ravine, just the two of them. "Yeah."

"I just need to clear my head," Opie said. "Get away from Charming for a little bit…figure some shit out."

"I hope you telling me means I'm invited," Donna teased, already knowing she was.

Opie rolled his eyes, smirked at her. "Duh."

Donna elbowed him in his side, kissing him as she crawled over him, reaching for the remote to her TV on her nightstand. "We should check the weather," she suggested, pressing the _seven _button when the screen lit up. "Make sure it's not going to….going to..._Oh My God."_

_"….. the van you see pulling in through the gates behind me as the S.W.A.T struggles to tame the crowd…inside are the latest demands of Joshua Kohn…. The suit and gown for the_ fairytale_ wedding he's been planning for months, according to the video invitation fifteen year old Tara Knowles was forced to record….authorities still haven't confirmed the agreed upon number of hostages Kohn has agreed to release in exchange for…."_

"That's Hale Manor," Donna half-whispered, blue-green eyes wide as saucers, instantly brimming with unshed tears. Opie was already pulling his jeans on, his boots—kicking the leather prospect kutte on the floor aside to pick up and pull on his shirt.

Donna sat frozen in the center of her bed, chewing her bottom lip as a split screen of the explosion outside the manor, footage of David Hale being wheeled towards an awaiting ambulance, the enlarged photograph of the Hale family at last year's NYNH gala—the coverage of the chaos that had been happening over the past few hours, just mere miles away from where they laid in bed, dead to the world while her—

"_Opie!" _Donna screeched, tears falling down her face.

"Everything's going to be okay," Opie assured her. "The guys are probably already there. We know where Tara is now. She'll be safe as long as the—"

"_SHE'LL_ BE SAFE," Donna bellowed, pointing at the screen—at the image of David Hale in his football jersey as they reported on his condition. "TARA'S SAFE, BUT EVERYONE ELSE IS EXPENDANBLE! MY MOM IS EXPENDABLE!"

"Hold on, calm down," the bed dipped as his knees pressed into it, Opie grabbed both her hands.

Donna shook her head, sniffling. "My stepfather," she choked out. "He bought tickets…he went to honor his boss…his wife's b-b-baat-tling Cancer..."

Opie's hand quickly framed her face. "Everything's going to be okay, Baby...Cops have no choice but to do their job. Everyone's watching..."

"You don't know that," Donna cried. "My mom's in there….she's inside with that psycho…._what if he kills her?"_

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"They're not seriously going to let him do this, are they?" Jax said, blue eyes bouncing between Veronica and Juice.

Wallace and Juice sighed collectively. "He already released the first five hostages," Chastity explained. "Probably a show of good faith after they gave him the dress and the suit. All they have to do now is set up the feed and he'll let the rest of the ten go."

"He agreed to let another twenty go if they allow Arthur inside to walk her down the aisle," Juice commented. "Sounds like her Old man fought them hard but the Detective inside said No...Kohn says he'll give his final demand after the ceremony."

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"I always wondered if we'd be together when you….if I would be your maid of….of," Sarah swallowed her tears, clearing the thickness garbling her voice as she lightly dusted Tara's cheeks, not bothering to remind her a second time that Kohn insisted her make-up be flawless because Sarah's life depended on it when tears bled through the foundation. "…..I just never thought it would be like this…"

Tara forced the most painful smile on her face as her childhood best friend fumbled through the assortment of lipsticks and glosses scattered across the vanity bathroom sink. She selected one, spreading the rouge red on tight, unmoving lips as Tara stared down at her lap, at the puffy, frilly white gown drowning her slender frame.

_"There,_" Sarah announced, stepping back, giving her room to stand up. "You look..._beautiful..."_

Locking eyes with her former best friend, she gently grabbed Tara's arm, turning her towards the mirror. "I don't know why he's doing this, Tee," Sarah whispered against her bare shoulder. "I get it…..I get loving someone so much…and I….I get how awful it feels when they don't feel the same way but _this….._you don't deserve this and I wish I could….."

Sarah's mouth snapped shut, realization shined in her grey eyes. "My father's study," she gasped, twisting Tara towards her. "He has a—"

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Knuckles wrapped against the door.

"He's getting impatient," Jacob Junior announced, relaying the message he'd been given. "He keeps pointing his gun at random….look, I know this is hard, okay? But everyone's been okay ever since we've all been cooperating….let's just get through this and we might all make it out of this alive….._the camera crew's ready, Tara…._Please…..he doesn't want to hurt _you…_but he'll hurt everyone else."

Didn't he understand?

Tara was already hurting.

And as Sarah dutifully held up the train of the custom wedding gown while she slowly exited the bathroom, as they headed back towards the crowded room of "guests" obediently sitting in even rows on either side of the aisle Joshua forced them to stage—Tara Knowles didn't think it possible for her to feel any worse.

But when she learned of Joshua Kohn's final demand, she would.

Tara was going to feel a whole lot worse.

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**_PART III _**_Coming soon..._

* * *

**I am SO Sorry. **_That's all I can really say to you guys. I was hoping that CH**73 **would follow the same structure as the last two chapters, breaking them into only **two **big parts but my mind is all over the place, real life is being a bit of a kick in the pants and I just know if I don't force myself to update with **something **I'm going to chuck the deuces and leave you guys hanging. _

_So bare with me, Please. **I promise, **CH**74 **isn't nearly as SOA-esque. And by that I mean, it's less chaos and more "Jackson's birthday arc" like. Lots of fluff that should write easy since I've been REALLY looking forward to getting to it. So much, that I've been tempted several times to skip to it and do that cheap "character just tells you what happen" thing. (P.S: My muse says **fuck that**)_

_ Anyway, CH**74 **and **75 **will be the usual **two-**parts each. _

**|REVIEW| **


	85. Chapter 73: Part III

**Chapter 73: **Part **III**

**Breathe, **people. Don't forget to breathe.

\- Veritable Old Lady Crow

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**_All the pain and the truth_**

**_I wear like a battle wound_**

**_So ashamed, so confused_**

**_I was broken and bruised_**

**_Now I'm a warrior_**

**_Now I've got thicker skin_**

**_I'm a warrior_**

**_I'm stronger than I've ever been_**

**_And my armor, is made of steel, you can't get in_**

**_I'm a warrior_**

**_And you can never hurt me again_**

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_"…and do _you, _Tara Knowles, take Joshua Kohn to be your wedded husband to live together in marriage….Do you promise to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health and forsaking all others, be faithful only to him so long as you both shall live?"_

"I...I, do."

_"By the power vested in me by the State of California, I pronounce you to each other, husband and wife…._you may..._you now kiss the bride_."

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_"It happened just moments ago…fifteen year old Tara Knowles and nineteen year old Joshua F. Kohn were pronounced husband and wife during a live telecast covered on every news channel in the U.S_," Chloe Sullivan reported. "_….Pin-drop silence followed the exchange of vows…"_

"Why aren't you clapping?" _Joshua turned towards the crowd, outrage marring his features_. "This is a [**Bleep**] celebration! _CLAP!_ CELEBRATE!"

_"…members of the audience, the remaining hostages who were in attendance at the Hale's New Year, New Hope charity gala gasped in horror….flinched and cringed as the young man that has held them captive for the past three hours demanded that they join him in celebrating what could possibly be the most ….."_

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"Sir, I've got the latest update on the—"

"Are we clear?" Detective Brigance interrupted in a fit of impatience, snatching the headphones off his ears.

"Teams A and C have all cleared their section of the perimeter," Sargent Foley answered quickly, shaking his head. "So far, they've managed to disarm a total eight devices—"

_"So far?"_

Foley nodded stiffly, his mouth a grim line. "We believe there may be more, Sir…directly surrounding the perimeter of the building...Sir, Kohn must have been planning this for months. And the resources he's—"

"Yeah, no shit," Dt. Brigance snatched the walkie-talkie off the counter, "They can do one final sweep...then let Moya and Taylor know I want all teams to move into position now. This nut-job has one final demand and I have a feeling it's going to be something we're not willing to comply with...Is his mother here yet?"

Srgt. Foley nodded. "Sheila Kohn and Agent Kohn arrived about an hour ago," he replied. "They've just finished up with their interviews. Clinton questioned them both personally."

Everyone in the room immediately stopped talking—stopped moving, except to glance over at the phone ringing loudly on the round table at the room's center.

Dt. Brigance walked over, eyes scanning the caller I.D.

"It's him," Brigance stated.

"_We_ were supposed to call _him _back in fifteen—"

"Is anything about today procedure?" Brigance barked, scowling. "You think it's standard protocol to allow a fifteen year old to be forced to marry the lunatic that kidnapped her on live television? I don't know whose more to blame, Kohn or his ex-wife but _somebody's _been asleep at the switch. How did they not know what was going on with their own kid?! And how the _fuck_ did he manage to get his hands on so many—"

_"Sir….the phone."_

Brigance snatched the phone off it's receiver, slamming it against his ear. "This is Detective Brigance."

_"I trust your boss is happy with you successfully securing five more hostages,"_ Joshua mused. The cheer in his voice, it was completely genuine as it fanned throughout the quiet room.

"We'll be happy when everyone inside is out safely," Brigance replied. "Including you. Listen….first and foremost….on the behalf of my entire team, we want to uh...to congratulate on your—"

_"No need to kiss my ass Detective," _Joshua sneered, chuckling lightly. _"There's no need…._I'm ready to give you my final demand."

_"….._Alright, I'm listening."

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"He gave them his final demand!" Juice announced to the group. "He wants two plane tickets….to Hawaii, nonstop trip…and a limousine to drive them to the airport….He says he'll release twenty-five more hostages when he receives confirmation that they booked the flight for him and his wife_"—_Juice failed to play it off when he flinched at the death glare Jax shot him—_"I mean his_—"

"He'll release twenty-five hostages when they confirm his flight," Chastity cut in, promptly saving the Mohawk-rocking nerd a bloody nose, "And he'll release the rest of the hostages the minute the limousine he requested arrives."

Piney shook his head, squinting his eyes. "What, this asshole thinks the cops are just going to let him free? Let him drive off the property and fly out of the State?"

"He's a fuckin looney tune," Kozik barked, shaking his head. "That's probably _exactly _what he thinks!"

"Let me, LET ME GO! LET ME GO RIGHT N—_LET GO OF ME! _JACKSON! JACKSON TELLER, ARE YOU OUT THERE!"

Everyone's heads snapped towards the iron gates—watchful eyes drinking in the deranged man fighting through three police officers attempting to restrain him, to stop him from reaching the gate.

Jax stepped forward, nodded up at him. "_Who the Hell are you?!" _He yelled back.

Wild, brown eyes locked on him, and the man's renewed effort found him clambering past the officers he knocked down—hands white knuckling the bars of the gate as he beckoned the blue-eyed teenager forward, begged him to come closer with crazed eyes as he stuck his head through.

"Listen to me," the man whispered feverishly. "He's gonna kill my kid if you don't go in there! He's not gonna hurt you, he just wants you to say goodbye, he says it's a gift to his—"

"Sir, I need you to come with us—"

"NO!" the man screeched as the officers quickly pulled him back, forcing plastic restraints around his wrists. "HE LIED!" The man screamed, staring pointedly at Jax. "HE LIED TO THEM! IT'S _YOU! _YOU'RE THE FINAL DEMAND! HE WANTS YOU TO—_HE'S GONNA KILL MY BOY IF I DON'T—AND HE'LL ONLY KNOW I TOLD YOU IF YOU GO IN—_HE MIGHT KILL HER, TOO, YOU KNOW! _TELL THEM TO LET YOU COME IN—HE'S NOT GOING TO HURT YOU—HE JUST WANTS YOU TO—What is that? What are you doing with—_NO, DON'T DO—_"_

Jax's shoulders rose and fell fast, in sync with the labored breaths pouring in and out of his lungs as he watched the strange man he'd never met before, fall limp in the arms of the three officers when a paramedic pushed the plunger on the syringe she placed in his arm.

"Jax," Juice called.

Jax turned around, nearly toe-to-toe with Piney as JT, the rest of SAMCRO and the four teenagers he'd spent all day with crowded around him.

_"What's going on?"_

Yet again, heads turned—this time towards the voice of Opie Winston.

Arm in arm with a silently crying Donna, Opie brushed past every club member making note of his missing leather Kutte, stopping in front of his best friend—staring directly at him and no one else.

"I'm going in there to get her," Jax responded simply.

"How are—"

_"You CAN'T!" _Donna shrieked.

Chastity and Veronica nodded solemnly in agreement. "Even if you did manage to get pass the barricade, running inside now might put Tara and everyone else inside in more danger."

Jax pointed towards the gate, the empty patch of grass where the strange man had been standing seconds before. "He just _said—"_

"You don't even know who he is," Chastity urged.

"And it's probably a trap, Son," JT said, shaking his head.

"I don't give a shit!" Jax snapped. "I'm going in there! _Now!"_

"You won't even make it past the gate," Wallace commented. "Come on, Bro. The cops kept everybody—including Tara, alive this long...all he wants is a getaway-ride...They'll catch up with him before he even reaches the airport."

Jax nodded, blue eyes once again locked with Opie's. "I'm not gonna make it past the gate," he agreed. "...not without _help._"

_Come on, Bro. We'll deal with our shit later...Put it aside._

_For Tara._

"You guys!" Juice shouted, pressing against the headphones covering his ear. "They booked the flight...He's about to release the twenty-five hostages!"

"How you wanna do this, Brutha?" When JT spoke, it was directly to Piney.

Piney stared after his Godson—studied the resolution in his eyes.

Then he slowly reached inside his Kutte, holding the gun he pulled from it out to him—smiling when Jax didn't hesitate to take it.

Every other member followed suit, there was a chorus of bullets sliding into chambers as the SAMCRO men standing behind him, prospects included locked and loaded.

_"Looks like the party's just starting," _Eli "Weevil" Navarro joked, arriving on the scene with the rest of his MC. Veronica's eyes widened in surprise that Weevil laughed at. "Aw, come on, Blondie. You didn't really think I'd leave you out here on your own, did you? It's not exactly Suburban Disneyland out here."

"_What you need, Mano?" _One of Weevil's MC members asked.

"I need to get inside," Jax explained immediately, "The Fed's are to blame for _all _of this shit...can't trust 'em.. I need to make it past the barricade and into the building or I'm gonna lose her."

"Alright," Weevil nodded. "So what's the plan?"

"Wait until he releases the hostages," Juice suggested, mouth twisting with uncertainty. "That's your best shot."

Veronica shook her head. "Jax, You really need to think this thr—"

"_They're coming out now!"_

The rowdy crowd several spaces behind them were completely oblivious—every obnoxious, anxious, determined pedestrian blended in with the others around them as they pushed, shoved and loudly demanded entry into Hale Manor.

"What are we doing?" Tig asked, glancing between JT and Piney. "What's the plan—"

"_Just cover me."_

That was all Jax said as he raised the gun in his hand towards the sky, firing twice—zipping through the scattering crowd, ducking through the swarm of bystanders until he reached the officer standing guard at the gates security booth.

"OPEN THE GATE!" Jax yelled, pointing the gun in the officer's face.

SAMCRO and the PCH biker gang were right behind him.

JT slammed the butt of the gun in his hand hard against the back of their necks—two officers down.

Four more went down with them—Piney, Chibs, Padraic and Opie altogether, teams of two and three, brute, adrenaline-fueled strength clearing the front line of defense upholding the barricade.

Jason went down hard, pepper-spray burned his eyes.

Miles and two random rioters tripped over him—Niko shut his eyes just in time, but he struggled to get free as his arms were pulled behind his back.

When his arms are suddenly released, he opens them wide in surprise at the "_If you can't beat 'em, join 'em," _look in Veronica's eyes as she subtly wields the Tazer in her hand, zapping any officer unlucky enough to walk in her path and not see her there.

"I SAID OPEN IT _NOW!" _Jax lunged into the booth, pressing the gun to his the officer's face. "I swear to God, I will put a bullet in your temple if—"

Jax slammed his face hard against the desk the second the officer patched in the code, storming out into the chaos erupting outside the booth.

He was just one person in the crowd rushing through the sliding gates like a marathon—headed directly towards the swarm of F.B.I agents and San juan County police officers running to apprehend them.

"COME ON, LITTLE PIGGIES!" Tig chanted—Chibs, Happy and the others joined him in weaving through the crowd by force, elbowing, punching, shoving people out of their path, thinning the herd, subsequently clearing the way for Jax.

And the officers charging forward to apprehend them all.

The crowd tapered off as Jax headed closer to the mansion—through the corner of his eyes he just barely glimpsed Donna barreling into her mother's chest, her stepfather hugging them both as others greeted their newly released loved ones.

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"TEEEE!" Sarah screamed, struggling as her father's security guards dragged her backwards, towards the front entrance where everyone was running. "...TARA!"

"I thought you weren't letting the rest of them go until after they got the limo you asked for?" Tara looked on, eyebrows creasing her forehead as Joshua waved the semi-automatic gun in his hand like a cross-guard directing traffic, demanding that everyone, including her childhood best friend and her family, "RUN! GET OUT BEFORE I CHANGE MY MIND AND KILL ALL OF YOU!"

Reluctantly, Tara stepped closer to him to get a better view of the tablet in his hand—green eyes widening in horror at the surveillance video of the Hale's front yard. "What did you _do?_"

"I didn't do anything," Joshua turned to smile at her. "This is _all _Joseph."

Tara's nostrils flared. "His name…is _Jackson!"_

Joshua chuckled. "Hopefully they get it right in his obituary—"

"What did you—_WHAT ARE YOU DOING?_!" Tara growled, eyes wild as he gripped her arm hard enough to cut off her circulation.

Joshua scowled in disappointment at the sound of her dress tearing—the elegant train getting caught against a nail on the steps. He turned towards her briefly, smiling widely. "I'm just trying to give you what you want, Tar-tar," he told her, dragging her up the stairs. "And I'm giving Joseph what he _needs._"

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"Put the gun DOWN!" Brigance ordered through the speakers linked with the radio pressed to his mouth. "We can work this out, Son...Everybody just needs to calm down."

"I...WILL SHOOT HIM!" Jax screamed, pressing the gun harder against the uncontrollably shaking officer's neck.

Round and round, Jax walked in circles, captured every angle—every frame of the scene laid out before him as officers subdued his father on the ground.

And his father's club brothers—including Opie.

Weevil and his crew.

Veronica, and her friends Wallace and Juice standing beside a red-faced Chastity as her eyes bounced between a surrounded Jax and the uniformed men and women aiming their guns at him.

Deputies Palmer and Byrd breathing heavily next to Unser as he hugged his crying wife—Katherine Palmer begging with her eyes for Jax to stand down so he wouldn't be killed.

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"THEY'RE GONNA KILL—" Tara's knuckles slammed against Joshua's chest, angry fists—"YOU CRAZY ASSHOLE….THEY'RE GONNA….KILL…..HIM!"

Joshua grabbed her by her arms, tossing her back into the desk—Tara's side hit the corner hard, she fell to freshly polished mahogany-wood floor of Jacob Hale's private study.

Joshua pulled the gun he had tucked in the back of his pants, aiming it at her as he slowly stepped towards her. "Why do you care so much? _I'm _your husband. NOT HIM!"

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"This is your final warning, Jackson," Brigance announced. "Put the gun down….very slowly…and"—The metal dug into the sweat-sheened skin of his captive as Jax pressed the gun harder against his neck—"_You don't wanna do that—"_

_"THEN DON'T MAKE ME!" _Jax bellowed.

"Jackson….Jack—Son, list—_don't do that, don't—_JACKSON!"

Jax was walking backwards—his feet moved faster every time he heard his name, every time the Detective's voice grew more urgent.

Then he was at the door, his face obscured—completely blocked from view by the officers head as he reached behind him quickly, pulling the handle on the door, placing it back around the man's chest as his foot caught in the door before it could snap shut again. He slid over slightly, kicked at the door hard as he could, slipping straight inside—the door slamming shut behind him.

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* * *

"What the Hell are you doing kid?" Officer Timmons asked as Jax forced him forward. "You a friend of the girl's? You trying to save her? This ain't the way to—"

The rest of his sentence died on still lips. Jax raised the gun in his hand high, slamming it hard against the back of the officer's head. Jax pulled the gun he'd forced the officer to holster from the unconscious man's waist, tucking it in the back of his jeans.

Jax stepped over his body, blue eyes briefly scanning the room—stopping on the train of white, lacy fabric dangling from a nail on the staircase. Aiming Piney's gun upward, he took the stairs three at a time.

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"SON OF A BITCH!" Detective Brigance yelled, lashing a foot out against the fallen police shield on the ground in front of him.

"How would you like to proceed, Sir?" Foley asked immediately. "Even if we assume they aren't working together we—"

There was loud, air-scorching blast—flames flickered and climbed.

Victims and their loved ones stumbled, fell down, flew backwards, Bomb squad canines yelped and yanked free, Officers instinctively took cover, shielding their faces even as their weapons remained un-holstered.

"NOOOOOOO!"

Johnathan Teller's tortured outcry was the loudest—the most piercing as they watched the mansion burst into flames.

JT could feel his chest tightening, his feet felt like blocks of lead—he was running fast as he could but he wasn't moving. Strong arms pulled him backwards—sound faded in and out, horns blaring from the firetruck's racing down the front yard, completely silence save for the acceleration of his rapidly beating heart.

"JACKS—_Let me…let me go," _JT choked out, struggling to get free. "HE KILLED MY—HE KILLED MY SON!"

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* * *

Jax's nose slammed hard against the top step when he tripped, blood sprayed from his nose, leaking down his chin. Still, he scrambled, barely avoided tumbling down the stairs as they shook underneath him from the explosion, the fire that quickly engulfed the officer he'd left, lying unconscious on the foyer floor.

Coughing, he dipped below the rising smoke and flying debris—he made his way down the hallway, kicking in the doors one by one until—

"Well Hello there, Joseph!"

Joshua jumped out into the hall from inside the hallway closet, the serated blade in his hand pressing against Tara's throat. "Nice of you to finally join us."

Jax raised the gun to his target, but Joshua merely smiled—pressing the blade harder, pressing his face closer to hers.

Too close.

"Ah, ah, ah," Joshua warned, shaking his head. "Drop the gun...now."

"NO!" Jax screamed.

Tara whimpered, wincing in pain as Joshua pressed the tip of the blade against her neck, piercing her skin, tiny droplets of blood staining the steel.

"I'm so sorry about this, Baby," Joshua cooed, kissing the spot in front of her ear. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"_You son of a bitch," _Jax growled, hand shaking as he aimed the gun still in his grip.

"Drop the gun," Joshua directed again, "Then the two of you can talk. Tar-Tar's got a lot to say to you," Joshua nodded towards the crumbling the staircase, the flames crackling beneath their feet, "And as I'm sure you've noticed..._we don't have a lot of time."_

* * *

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"The blast radius was limited to first floor," Battalion Chief Jesse Spencer advised. "They were three detonations…One for each entrance into the building. So far, as my men can tell, this wasn't done to bring the house down. It was done to keep anyone from entering, but given the impact—"

"So what are you saying?" Detective Brigance questioned.

"The foundation is fairly stable...for now. But there's no way to tell for how long. And in the event that there is another det—"

"DETECTIVE!" Jacob Hale yelled, rushing over to them. "This asshole knows my property top to bottom. He _has _to. No way could he have pulled this shit—"

"We're aware of that, Sir," Sargent Foley assured, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Please…Sir, we need you to finish your debr—"

"There's another way out!" Jacob urged, shoving the officer's hands off. "Listen….a few years back….there was a colleague of mine was attacked in his home…bunch biker thugs took him and his son at gun point, tortured him for information on a high profile case. I decided to take precautions for the safety of my family…there's a panic room…custom built…it leads to an—"

"Are you saying there's another way into your home?"

"Yes," Jacob nodded fast. "I mean, No. It was built as a way _out _..._._And I bet you that bastard knows all about it."

"Copy that," Foley muttered, pressing a finger to the com-piece in his ear. Glancing over at Detective Brigance, he said, "Sir, they're still interviewing the SAMCRO members we've detained and so far their stories are on par with everything Diane and Arthur Knowles have been trying to tell us. Jackson Teller isn't a hostile, he's not working with Kohn. He's just trying to save the girl. Johnathan Teller and his club _insist _that they overheard one of the hostage victims tell him his _son _was the final demand."

"One of the hostages?"

Foley nodded. "So far, we haven't been able to locate anyone fitting the description they gave," he pressed on. "He could possibly be one of the dozen or so victims we had to sedate for their own safety."

"We can't let this guy get away," Brigance told them, shaking his head. "But our priority is saving the _girl. _I don't give a shit if his heart is in the right place. There is no room for vigilante BULLSHIT! He took one of ours at gunpoint. And until our investigation concludes we will continue operating under the assumption that Jackson Teller is a hostile, too. If he gets in the way…._take him out._"

* * *

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"Have a seat," Joshua ordered, waving his free hand towards the rolling chair he'd wheeled to the center of the room.

Smoldering blue eyes remained glued to the knife still at Tara's throat when Jax slowly, reluctantly sat down—absent of the gun he'd been forced to leave in the hallway.

"Why are you doing this, Josh?" Tara choked out.

Tara was shoved forward, Jax jumped up instantly—but he was forced back into the chair at the sound of a gun clicking—the gun Joshua abruptly pulled from inside the jacket of his tux.

Tara held her hands up on either side of her head, stepped in front of Jax.

"You got what you wanted," Blood, sweat and tears trickled down her neck as Tara tried to reason with him. "We're married now," she reminded him, flashing the ring he'd placed on her finger during the ceremony. "We can be together….you don't have to kill anyone else. Let's just go."

"I'm just giving you what you wanted," Joshua insisted, grabbing her roughly by the arm, forcing her to turn around to face Jax. "You wanted him to see what he lost," Joshua smiled widely, waving the gun in his hand at a flinching Tara. "YOU SEE, JOSEPH?! Look at her! _The most beautiful bride you've ever seen, isn't she? _And she's leaving on _my _arm. Not yours!"

"He sees it," Tara moaned. "Everyone in the world has seen it. Please, can we just—"

"Soon, Baby," Jax's blood boiled, his stomach churned as he watched helpless—unable to react when Joshua pulled her back towards him, kissing the spot next to her ear. The spot he loved to kiss. "Real Soon, I promise. But first….he needs to know _why. _I think it'll be good for you….it'll be good for us. You don't want to end up like your best friend do ya? Remember what you told me about Opie? How he couldn't really move on with his girlfriend until he got closure with that whore Sarah?"

"I didn't _tell _you that," Tara gritted her teeth, "I was talking to _Opie…. _How did you even _hear _that?"

"You need closure, Tar-tar," Joshua told her. "You need to tell him everything you told me. Tell him how much you hate him…how badly he hurt you…that you can't even say his name without crying because of all the lies he told you…all of his cheating ways—"

Tara shook her head, willing Jax to understand. "I shouldn't have said any of that stuff—"

Joshua kicked her hard in her side—aimed the gun in his hand at Jax when he shot out of the chair again. Jax sat back down, squinting his eyes in agony, trapped in his own personal torture as he watched Tara keeled over in pain. "What do you mean you shouldn't have said it? IT WAS THE TRUTH!"

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* * *

"Taylor, what's your status?" Detective Brigance asked through the intercom clipped to his ear.

_"We are in the tunnel, Sir...the skematics puts us directly underneath Hale Manor in under seven minutes."_

"Move faster!" Dt. Brigance ordered. "I want you in position in under _five_."

"_Copy that, _Sir."

"Moya_?!" _Brigance barked.

"_We're all in position….we've detected three heat signatures—"_

"Only _three?" _Detective Brigance frowned. "Any way to tell who's in the room?"

_"Negative….We won't know until we move in….any closer and he'll spot us."_

"You're certain their isn't a fourth—"

_"Detective," _Battalion Chief Spencer interrupted yet again. "My team's just confirmed that at least one of the two men who entered was killed by the blast."

"_Jesus…Christ," _Brigance pressed the button on the radio in his hand harder than necessary. "_Stand by," _he directed Agent Moya, turning towards the patiently waiting fire-chief. "Did you confirm which—"

Spencer was already shaking his head. "He's been burned beyond recognition. Until we call in forensics….or your operation—"

"You won't know if it's my officer or Teller," Brigance waved him off, glaring. "Got it….._Taylor, what's your status? You and your men need to get there NOW!"_

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

"Tell him, Tara," Joshua order, pointing the gun at Jax. "TELL HIM!"

Tara screamed, Jax cried out in pain, slipped out of the chair—when Joshua aimed the gun and pulled the trigger.

"Okay, I'll t-t-tell…No, no, no, don't—Joshua—JOSHUA, I'LL TELL HIM OKAY?" Tara slid between them, green eyes wide and begging. "I need t-t-to…I _have _to tell him…He needs to know how I really feel. You're right. I need closure, okay? And I'm happy…I'm so h-h-happy you did this for me…you know what's best for me…you're always looking out for me…you saved m-m-me f-f-f-from his…from _his family_…from his father's club…I'd be dead if it weren't for you," Tara turned towards Jax—green eyes forever locked with an anguished blue, "And h-h-he needs to know that…He needs to know why I don't trust him….he needs to know why I don't love him…._I love you."_

Joshua smiled—grabbed her arm gently this time, to turn her towards him, to frame her face with his hand. "I love you too, Tar-Tar."

Tara forced a smile. "Then let's just go—"

"Tara, NO!" Jax yelled. "Tara—"

"SHUT UP!" Tara screamed, glaring at him briefly before turning back to face the man with the gun. She pointed an angry, trembling finger at the sixteen year old bleeding from his side. "After the stunt he just pulled the cops are gonna put him away. And if that officer is dead, he's going to rot in prison. Let's just leave him here…let's go be happy."

"You know," Joshua mused, brushing the fallen hair from her pinned up-curls, "We're married now. We're officially husband and wife."

"I know," Tara crooned, nodding her head. "And I'm h-happy."

"Our love is _pure, _Tar-tar," Joshua said, sliding his hand down to rub her bare shoulder—cold, blue eyes trailing up and down her body. "We can be together."

Tara swallowed hard against the bile threatening to crawl its way up her throat. "When we're alone," she replied. "When we're on our honeymoon…._Hawaii sounds perfect._"

"But….but you wanted him to _see _what he lost…"

Tara's breath hitched, her heart pounded against her bruised ribcage.

Jax struggled to stealthily get up, the chair kept moving, the wheels scraped against the hardwood floor.

"Let's show him," Joshua half-whispered, hand sliding to grip her side, thumb flicking the white, metal piece to the zipper along her waist back and forth. "You want to hurt him like he hurt you, don't ya? Let's _really _show him."

"No," Jax rushed to get up, the chair rolled away from him and he banged his bleeding side into the desk when it fell, clipped his ear when the desk drawer he reached for to regain his balance flew open. "Tara don't—_Don't you fuckin touch her!"_

Tara shook her head, eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them as she scrambled for words. "I don't want our first time to be like that," she insisted. "It should be special…private. I don't want him to _watch_ us!_"_

Joshua shrugged his shoulders at her, cocked his head sideways—raised an eyebrow in question. "Why not, Tar-tar?" Joshua asked, shooting her his coldest, deadliest look yet. "_I watched you guys fuckin all the time."_

Jax didn't hesitate, didn't think about it at all.

He saw the stapler, he grabbed and he launched it hard as he could—hitting Joshua in the face—the sharp edge of the heavy-duty metal smashing directly into his right eye.

Joshua flew back, and while Jax grunted loudly in pain, he ignored the gaping hole in his side, he lunged with all the strength he had—and he was on him seconds.

Tara keeled over—finally losing the contents of her stomach on the floor, all over her poofy white dress. Her green eyes were wild, she stared at the wedding dress in disgust—her mind clicked off, it zeroed in on only one thing.

It had to go.

Completely hysterical, Tara clawed at the dress drowning her body in white—tore down the zipper, chafed the edges of her fingernails until they were raw, struggling to pull apart the strings holding the corset design of the dress squeezing her chest, trapping her middle into it. She spun in circles, craning her neck, trying to get it apart—her blurry-vision, her unsteady hands making it impossible.

Then she saw them.

Joshua and Jax tumbling, twisting and turning—every knee to Jax's side that weakened him just a little bit more. For a moment she stood there, transfixed, looked on in horror as they struggled on the floor, both reaching for the gun that bounced off the wall, landing by the door.

Joshua slammed his forehead hard against Jax's already bleeding nose, he sunk his teeth into his shoulder biting down hard until his fingers loosened just enough on the gun to—

"NO!" Tara snapped out of her moment of mania, launching herself at the man with Jax's neck caught between his knees—pressing the gun to his forehead. "I WANT HIM TO SEE!" Tara screamed. "I WANT HIM TO…..JOSH, PLEASE!"

"You're lying to me!" Joshua barked. "You're just trying to save him!"

"No, I'm not!" Tara lied, crying. "I s-s-s-swear I'm not…I don't want him to die. I want him to _suffer. _Okay? I want Jackson to live a-a-and…I want him to be _miserable _without me."

"I….DO NOT…BELIEVE YOU!" Joshua bellowed.

"_I'll show you," _Tara told him. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Come here, and _we'll _show _him…"_

Jax tried to raise his head—Joshua slammed it back down with the barrel of the gun pressing into his forehead. "Tara, _No!"_

Joshua's smile widened just a little more with every pull of the strings at the back of her dress, until Tara finally, slowly shimmied the dress down her waist until it fell at her feet. He all but drooled from his grinning mouth as Tara stepped out of the dress with a pained, defeated hesitance that Joshua Kohn's warped mind easily misinterpreted as seduction.

Standing there in nothing but the silk, lacy slip he picked out for her, and the twelve-hundred dollar heels Sarah was forced to loan her—Tara made a conscious effort to smile and crook her finger at him, even through the tears Joshua chose to ignore.

_"Tara,"_ Jax croaked, eyes brimming with tears. "….Baby, _No."_

"_Get up,"_ Joshua barked, yanking him to his feet at the same time. He forced Jax down into the computer chair once again, kicked it forward until it slammed into his desk, Jax's legs tucked underneath it.

Slowly, he walked around it—waving the gun back and forth between the two of them, then just on Jax when he'd finally stood behind her.

"She doesn't want to do this," Jax pleaded with him. "You said you love her…If you really," Jax squeezed his eyes tight, and when he opened them back, they were twin sapphires, darkened by the desperation he felt, with the struggle to keep his composure while he begged the lunatic softly kissing his girlfriend's shoulder to see reason. "….what you're trying to do….that isn't love….if you love her….._you won't hurt her_."

"It's okay, Jackson," Tara nodded at him. They'd be bursting in here any minute to save her. Then they'd save both of them. She could do this. She could hold him off.

Tara flinched when she felt his hand on her thigh, slowly sliding up to her hip, curling his fingers into her panties.

Jax braced himself against the desk, and every time he moved to jump across it, he died a little more inside when Tara shook her head at him, when Tara begged him with her eyes not to move, when Joshua reminded him again and again why he shouldn't, mouthing the words, "_I will kill her," _waving the gun still in his hand.

But when Jax finally found the courage to meet her eyes again—when he finally tore away from the man slowly unfastening his belt buckle, Tara mouthed four words of her own—his favorite words he'd ever heard her say, words that cut through the silence, louder than the strangled sob caught in his throat.

_"I love you, Jackson," _Tara told him.

Then her eyes were gone.

Tara snapped them shut—she held her breath, she bit down on her bottom lip to keep from screaming, white-knuckled the desk as she leaned forward to keep from bucking him off whenever the dreadful moment finally came.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

_"We are in positon, Sir," _Taylor announced through the intercom. "I repeat, _we are in the vault."_

Detective Brigance white-knuckled the radio in his hand, rattled his teeth smashing it against his mouth. "ALL TEAMS MOVE IN _NOW!"_

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

But then the silence was gone, too.

Wood splintered, paper flew as the device mounted along the hidden wall detonated, the sliding bookshelves in front of it and every book stacked along exploding, flying, scattering the floor. Joshua's hand flew from the waistband of his boxer-briefs to the back of Tara's neck as he grabbed her, moving to press the gun to her head.

A canister rolled to a stop at their feet, Tara watched it land—shut her eyes tight just before it combusted. Smoke from the tear-gas saturated the room—burning Jax's eyes. Blindly, he jumped on top of the desk, ignoring the pain in his side as the sharp corner dug into him. He caught Joshua's arm at his elbow before it could bend to press the gun to her temple, putting all his weight on it as he launched himself over the desk.

Joshua howled in pain when his arm snapped.

Tara clawed at his face—pressing her thumb hard into his eyes, kneed him in his stomach hard as she could.

Then they were everywhere.

Agents crashing through the shattered window, running in through the hidden panic room. Someone pulled her back, yanked her away from Joshua.

And she didn't fight it.

Instead she fell to her knees, crawled on them—crawled towards the sixteen-year old bleeding from his side as he struggled to get off the floor, as he reached blindly for something to prop himself up on.

"JACKSON!" He couldn't yet see her clearly, but he held onto her voice, he reached for her instead—the only support he needed to push through the pain, the disorientation to force himself to stay alert.

"_Oh God, Jackson_," Tara cried against his shoulder, hugging him tightly. "You're okay….you _have _to be….please…don't…_."_

Jax's hand tangled in her hair, he pulled at it gently to ease her head back, to meet her emerald gaze, to wipe at every tear he could see. "_It's over," _Jax said, kissing her damp forehead. _"You're okay," _he smiled, kissing the bridge of her nose, "That's all that matters," then the tip of it, "I love you, Tara," he whispered against her trembling lips, kissing her, "I am…_so….so sorry, Babe."_

Tara shook her head, tears splattering his face. "_I'm sorry," _she urged. "This is all my—_What are you do—_GET OFF OF ME! He saved my….why are you…can't you see he's bleeding? He _saved me…..Why are you trying to handcuff—NO!_"

Agent Taylor howled in pain as the fifteen year old girl he'd come to rescue went from remorseful to violent in seconds—biting his arm hard enough to draw blood until he released her from his grip.

Tara launched herself at the teenage boy still on the floor, wrapping herself around him—snatching up the Joshua's gun, the weapon him and his team had yet to recover and aiming straight at him.

"Put your guns down, Now!" Taylor ordered his team. He held his hands up in surrender, "Listen to me, Tara…all we want is for everyone in this room to walk out alive…..No one is going to hurt you, sweetheart….I promise."

"You're going to hurt _him!" _Tara accused.

_"I thought you _wanted _him to be hurt," _Joshua yelled from by the window where he stood along the wall, between two agents. "Isn't that what you said you wanted? Huh? YOU LYING BITCH! YOU STUPID FUCKIN BIKER WHORE! YOUR FATHER WAS RIGHT ABOUT YOU! YOU'RE JUST A BIKER S_LUT _JUST LIKE YOUR MOM WAS!"

Tara turned the gun in her hand on a new target.

"Listen to me, Tara," Agent Taylor urged, stepping into her line of vision. "You do _not _want to do that, Sweetheart. It's done. We've got him...He's never going to hurt you again."

Her tormentor.

"What are you gonna shoot me?" Joshua taunted, cackling madly. "You think you got it in you? My Daddy's not a worthless drunk like yours. HE'S FBI! FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESIGATION! These are all his friends. You think they won't kill you? You and your biker boy-toy? HUH? YOU THINK THEY GIVE A SHIT ABOUT REDNECK, BACKWOODS TRASH LIKE YOU?!"

"Give them the gun, Tara," Jax whispered to her, his voice strained, "He doesn't deserve the easy way out. _He _needs to suffer...and everyone's watching. Everyone _knows…._his father can't cover it up anymore….he can't save him...come on, Babe," Jax urged, slowly reaching for her outstretched arm, fingers slowly creeping towards the gun shaking in her hand. "Tara…..Baby, _please….._I don't want you to have to live with this…._please…._just…that's it….._there you go,"_ Jax pressed his fingers lightly against the top of her wrist until she slowly, lowered the weapon in her hand with his help.

Jax hadn't felt it until then—not until his back slammed against the floor when he jumped over the desk. He hadn't remembered until the euphoria, the dread crushing his chest had been lifted up when Tara wrapped her arms around his neck, clearing the numbness humming throughout his body, giving him the ability to _feel _again.

That was when he felt it.

That was when he remembered it.

"Nice job, Son," Agent Taylor commended, smiling at the sixteen year old boy holding the gun out to him. "What you just did was the right thing. And it will probably help your case when—"

Jax reached back, pulling out the gun that was still tucked underneath his sweatshirt, in the waistband of his jeans despite all the struggle.

It was meant to happen—there was no other reason.

Jax was already aiming the gun before every agent in the room reached to pull theirs, when someone called in the situation to Agent Brigance, the man in charge, standing on the Hale's front lawn waiting for the _"All clear,_" that never came.

Jax fixed his own cold, blue eyes on his target—barely noticed Tara squeezing him tighter, hugging her face against his neck.

He pulled the trigger until there were no bullets left—until every single one was lodged in Joshua Kohn's chest.

He didn't feel the bullet that seared his own forearm either.

The empty gun fell from his hand, hitting the floor with a thud. Agents scrambled, three of them screaming, "WE NEED A MEDIC!" as they checked Joshua Kohn for a pulse they'd never find.

Boots pounded against the floor, rushing towards him—arms reached out, fighting to pull the defiant teenage girl refusing to get off him, refusing to let go of Jax, to let them take him, to let anyone punish him.

Jax was laid out, flat on his back, the weight of his injuries and the teenage girl on top of proving to be too much. Oblivious, Tara threw herself over his chest, fighting tooth and nail. She lost the battle, but the war raged on. Jax turned his head sideways, watching as Tara kicked out, tossed elbows left and right, laughter bubbled deep inside as he watched three grown ass men struggling to restrain her. That was his final image of her—the last thing he saw before his eyelids grew too heavy to keep open. He finally gave in to the deep sleep calling him, let the darkness clawing at his consciousness to pull him in. The adrenaline was gone.

And in that moment, so was his heartbeat.

Tara didn't want it to stop.

So, somehow….

They would have to get it beating again.

* * *

**_You did not break me_**

**_I'm still fighting for peace..._**

**_I've got thick skin, and an elastic heart,_**

**_But your blade, it might be too sharp_**

**_I'm like a rubber band until you pull too hard..._**

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

**_SEVERAL HOURS LATER ..._**

"Oh _yeah….._OH YEAH! OH GOD….You're so _Big, Baby…I love your big, fat cock… FUCKKK….I LOVE DADDY'S BIG D—"_

"Will you shut the fuck up?"

The stringy-haired blonde straddling his waist on the bed stopped moving. When she did, she was finally able to see his face again—her surgically enhanced triple-D's had stopped bouncing up and down between them. Arching her eyebrow in confusion, Candy studied the annoyed expression on her latest John's face.

"I'm not paying you extra to stroke my ego too," the man sneered. "Just keep your mouth shut and your _claws _off my chest."

His cellphone vibrated loudly, buzzing against the dusty surface of the nightstand next to the seedy motel room's Queen-sized bed. Candy rolled her eyes, muttering the word, _"Asshole," _loud enough for him to hear as she sashayed her way to the bathroom when he shoved her off him to answer the call.

"_This is Toric," _Lee Toric answered, admiring her size-three ass before it disappeared behind the slammed bathroom door.

_"Sir, I think we may have a problem with one of our C.I's…"_

"I'm off the clock, Grant," Toric replied dryly. "I thought you told me you and Brady could—"

"_We _can _handle it, Sir. We've _been _handling it…we've been following everything closely—"_

"So what's the problem then?" Toric barked. "I can't even step out of the office long enough to get my dick sucked without you morons screwing something up."

"_Dewey Crowe's missing."_

Toric rolled his eyes, reached towards the nightstand for the carton of cigarettes underneath the lamp. "That half-breed idiot doesn't know his ass from his elbow. He probably forgot how to dial the phone. And even if he tried to run he wouldn't get far. More than likely he's just holed up with one of the girls from his cousin's whorehouse."

_"That's what we thought….but he wasn't there when we went to look for him. And he missed his last three check-in's. We called the burner we gave him but it's been going straight to voicemail."_

Toric lit the cigarette dangling between his lips, taking a long pull of it. "Did you try tracking him?" he asked, blowing smoke out through his nose.

"_Last place his cellphone pinged was some warehouse just outside of Charming. Some old development of Oswald construction that fell through. No sign of him there. And there's something else…"_

"There's _always _something else," Toric muttered dryly.

_"Trixie…she's a favorite of his. Claims the last time she saw him Dewey was talking to some short, bald-head guy. An old man…didn't have a uniform on but he looked like a cop. I guess she must be real sweet on Dewey….says he always tips her extra or he don't know how to count…either way…she called me back and said she saw the guy Dewey was talking to before he went missing on the news. Sir….It was _Wayne Unser. _And we know how deep he's in with SAMCRO—_"

"Damn it, Grant," Toric snapped, sliding off the bed to retrieve the ashtray on top of the ancient Television across the room. "We on this shit again? Seriously, Kid…I already told you—"

_"Yes, but the timing is way too coincidental given who's in town. Padraic Telford managed to make it Stateside despite our efforts to deny his visa—"_

_"Your efforts," _Toric corrected, glaring at the wall. "I tasked _you _with keeping him across the pond. When I get shit done there _are _no mistakes….. But it doesn't matter. We shouldn't have anything to worry about. He doesn't know what happened to his Old Lady."

_"He didn't before she left, but what if Diane Knowles told him? The last thing we need—"_

"Don't worry about my niece," Toric told him. "I promised her she'd get her day and I've already proven it. Clarence Morrow'll be taking up the ass and every other hole until she gives the okay to put him out of his misery. And from what I've heard, SAMCRO was somehow involved in _her _niece's kidnapping. You see that hostage disaster all over the news? Trust me, they're the last people she'd be cozying up to these days. It's just like I told a million times before….there's no reason for her to go back on her word. We've been building this case almost eight years. Zobelle's going down soon and once we have him and all his foot soldier's on the hook Diane can request as many DVD's of their prison experience as she likes. I'll even sneak her in for a few rounds with his lieutenant. Give her a baseball bat—we'll call it _Conseco does Weston."_

_"Sir—"_

Toric squeezed his eyes shut, pinched at the bridge of his nose, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder. "Enough with the _Sir _shit, Grant. I don't need you focusing on my end of things. I need you to keep your eyes on the tasks you've been assigned. Did you get in touch with the Warden at Stockton like I asked?"

_"Spoke with him a few hours ago….He said to pass him the name and he'll make sure to put the order through, no problem."_

"Good," Toric smiled, turned his head towards the naked woman walking out of the bathroom. "Make sure everything is in order. I know a Nurse that's looking to do some gratis work at the prison…."

* * *

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

Even bruised and drained from exhaustion, she was still beautiful. Tara's resemblance to her mother was so strong, even when she slept—even when her emerald eyes were closed from the world.

Every day the sharp pang in his chest when he looked at her numbed a little more. Every time she graced him with a smile instead of the scowl he rightfully deserved, it got a little easier to ignore the familiar crinkle at the corners of her eyes—the slight chink in them that could only have come from her real father.

Arthur Knowles sat there—he'd sat there in the chair next to her bed, the subtle beep of the monitors above her head fading in and out as he watched her chest, as he checked to make sure she was still breathing, that she was only so still because the doctor's had to heavily sedate her.

Getting her away from Jax was a challenge that had resulted in more than a few cracked ribs, even more bloody noses. She'd fought them at every turn, struggled as they dragged her into the helicopter, she'd cried and screamed so loud—yet he could barely hear over his own heartbeat until he finally saw her.

Until they finally pulled her from the chopper to reveal that she was very much alive, that the gunshots they'd hear over the intercom, none of them struck her. Joshua was dead and Tara was alive.

But Tara Knowles wasn't fine—she was far from it.

As she cried out in anguish, it wasn't because of any physical pain a doctor could diagnose. It was the pain of not knowing if Jax was okay, not knowing because they'd removed her from the scene—because the last image she had of Jax was him convulsing on the floor, his eyes rolling back.

Arthur knew the first question that would come out of her mouth when she finally woke up. And he'd tried so many times to head down the hall, to the nurse's station to check on Jackson Teller's status but he couldn't bring himself to move away from her.

_"Looking at her now just makes me wish the doctors could have saved him," _Piney Winston commented from private hospital room's door. "_Then I could kill the bastard myself."_

And more than anything else, he couldn't bear the thought of the man walking towards him, sitting in his chair—not again.

Not anymore.

Arthur cleared his throat, glancing over at the tall, angry biker standing on the opposite side of her bed. The glare on Piney Winston's face contrasted with the gentle caress of his fingers against her forehead as he brushed her hair back, as his thumb ghosted over the angry, red mark above her eyebrow. "The sedative they gave her before they brought her in wore off," Arthur told him. "By the time they got her to St. Thomas, Gracie was already stirring…woke up crying for Jackson…I knew they couldn't let her see him…they had to rush him to surgery…if she was altogether she would have understood too but she….she just….she _lost it…._attacked the interns that were trying to help her…they had to put under again….Doc says she was exhausted…dehydrated…her ribs are bruised up pretty good...she going to need a few more stiches for her side and her….her wrists and one of her calves….but they already started her on antibiotics…and Psych'll be by to see her when she wakes up tomorrow…that's when they'll check for any other…..injuries since she'll probably be more…._responsive…"_

Piney's face hardened a little more with every word he spoke. He never met Arthur's eyes. Instead he focused on Tara's pale, sleeping face—instead he focused on the anger he needed to keep the tears of guilt at bay.

Somehow along the way, he'd managed to let both his children down.

The one he'd raised from a boy and the daughter he never even knew was his.

"Visiting hours are over," Arthur commented, standing up slowly. "And they usually only let parents and siblings stay the night but I've been wanting to go check in with the Teller kid…make sure I have some news for her and I, uh….I really need to go to a meeting…I need to stay on track, now more than ever so if you want—"

"_I don't need a goddamn thing from you," _Piney snapped, finally looking away from the sleeping brunette in the bed to glare at him. "You need to go? _Go. _Checking out is what you always did best. Tara won't even be surprised if you're not here when she wakes up!"

"Normally I'd say I deserve that," Arthur sneered, his expression darkening as he slowly walked around the bed to meet him at the foot of it. "…But I know all about what happened at your clubhouse. _Your club shit," _Arthur snarled, "is what put her in harm's way in the first place…Your _lifestyle _is what made her an easy target for that maniac who snatched her from wherever your enemies we holding her captive…doing God know's what to her. _That shit is on you—"_

"You've got a lot of fuckin nerve—"

"Why?" Arthur interrupted, temper rising with the steadily climbing volume of his voice. "Because I'm a DRUNK? Because I couldn't put down the Bourbon long enough to realize my daughter is nothing like the whore I fell in love with—the one you _stole _from me? You think I don't know I fucked up? I AM a fuck up. A royal fuck-up. And I've been a shitty father. But I never got her KIDNAPPED! _HELD FOR RANSOM!_ I can't believe Moira ever thought you were the better option—"

"I _was _the better option," Piney barked, blue-eyes narrowed. "I rode out of town every other week, left for days at a time and I still paid her more attention than you _ever _did. I guess it makes sense that you've ignored your daughter for years. You can't hold on to anything. You don't _appreciate _anything—"

"YOUR BIKER THUG BULLSHIT COULD HAVE GOT HER KILLED!" Arthur screamed, pointing at the fifteen year-old in the bed in front of them.

"I would _never _do anything to hurt her," Piney sneered. "And that's the difference between you and Me. I have _never _hurt her…..and ever since her mother died…all you've done is hurt her. You think you know something about my club? About SAMCRO's involvement in what happened on New year's because of what some crooked Fed told you? Well CONGRATULATIONS, ASSHOLE! For once in your miserable fuckin life, you're actually sober enough to notice!"

"Get out," Arthur told him, pointing towards the door. "GET THE FUCK—"

_"What the Hell is going on in here?"_

The door clicked shut behind her, Diane walked briskly towards the bed in the center of the hospital room, shoving past her brother to check Tara's vitals, to switch out the nearly-empty bag hooked to the I.V in her arm. The keycard clipped to her scrub top dangled above Tara's face as she leaned over her to readjust the wires and cords taped to her hand.

"What are you doing here, Dee?" Arthur asked, breaking the stony silence as they watched her work. "I thought you had them pull you—"

"I said I had them put me _on _the schedule," Diane corrected. _"Copeland_…the girl they found…she was supposed to work a double….Patricia called, said they needed someone to come in for the overnight shift…said she figured I'd want to be here with her...make sure there a familiar face….someone on staff Gracie trusted…"

"Oh."

Arthur watched as she pulled the strap of the messenger bag at her waist over her head. Diane pulled a brush from inside, slowly ran the soft bristles through Tara's hair, gingerly easing the knots out, picking out the bobby pins and rhinestones hidden within the thick, brown mane of fallen curls.

Arthur's eyes found Piney's miserable expression—the worry, the guilt, the deep anguish marring his ruggedly handsome features as he absently reached for the blaring cellphone ringing in his pocket, the sound that had drawn attention to him in the first place.

"You're not supposed to have your phone on in here," Arthur lectured. "It might mess with the mach—"

"_What?" _Piney barked into the flip phone pressed against his ear. "….Yeah, I do….alright…just text me the address," he said after listening a moment. "_I'm on my way now."_

Sliding the phone back into his pocket, he cast Tara a final longing glance before meeting Diane's eyes—pointedly ignoring her brother. Raising an eyebrow at her, his question had a demanding ring to it when he said, "_You'll call me when she wakes up?"_

Diane glance between the two brooding men across from her—finally setting on the slightly taller of the two. "Of course," she answered. "I'll let Tara know you were here."

Piney nodded stiffly—then he stalked out of the room.

"Really, Arthur?" Diane hissed, the second the door snapped shut. "You think picking a fight with Piney is good idea? Of _all _the times you had to—"

"Did you say the way he looked at her?" Arthur's voice was small, quiet—lacked the angry vibrato it held before as he stared at the teenage girl between them. "….He's always cared about her…Hell, he always cared _for _her when I didn't….while I _wasn't…._He thought he was just doing it because he loved her mother but now…I swear, Dee….the look in his eyes when he first walked into the room and saw her lying there. He…._I swear to Christ, he knows."_

"We got Gracie back," Diane answered, shaking her head at his deduction. "And she got _you _back…we're finally starting to be a family again. I know you've made mistakes…._lots of them…_and she knows it, too…but you're lucky enough to have a daughter that loves you anyway…that's found a way to forgive all your faults….I know for a minute it seemed like….like she'd….like we wouldn't…._but she's safe," _Diane stressed, smiling. She wiped at the tears welling in her eyes. "Tara's safe….and now we've only got one obstacle left….we gotta get you better, Art…your surgery…Dr. Altman's put it on the books for two weeks from today. I spoke to her…We're going to be okay, Big brother. Nothing else matters as long we stick together."

Arthur tried for a smile to match hers—failing miserably. The grim line of his mouth curved downwards as he approached her slowly, as he brought a hand up to her cheek to brush the pad of his thumb over the tear sliding down her face. "Dee," Arthur said, shaking his head at her. "…I didn't want to do this now… I _really _don't want to but…I couldn't risk waiting…it might have been too late—"

Diane's eyebrows threaded together. "What are you talking about?" she asked him. "Too late for what?"

Confusion. Fear. Shock. Outrage. Defiance.

They were the five stages—each one quickly bled through the other as she waited for him to give her the answer she could already see clearly in his eyes.

"I know about the baby," Arthur told her. "I know you lied about still being allowed to do the transplant even though you're pregnant because it's only the first tri—"

"What?" Diane gasped, eyes widening. "Who the Hell told you that? You know what it doesn't matter because me and Duncan already discussed and I admitted that I'm not ready to be a moth—"

"Yes it _does," _Arthur interrupted her. "It does matter, Diane….I can't let you do it. I won't let you sacrifice—"

"You are my _brother!" _Diane shrieked, slapping a hand against her chest. "We're FAMILY! That's what family does!"

Arthur shook his head. "You've sacrificed enough."

"I already got the abortion," Diane hissed. "So if you want to be noble, you're too fuckin late! You're getting the surgery, Arthur. We're doing the transplant! If you don't, I lost out on a child for nothing!"

Arthur chuckled lightly despite his mood—tilted his head slightly to peer over at the stubborn expression on his baby sister's face. "That Patrick boy was smart keeping you out of the loop," he commented. "And I know it wasn't just 'cause I threatened to give him a smile that matched his Uncle's if anything ever happened to you…_you've always been a terrible liar, Dee."_

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_"The Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle club has been reigning terror on this town for too long. Law enforcement can't focus on doing their jobs right….can't put all their focus on preventative methods to ensure that tragedy such as the events that took place today don't happen…Charming PD's eyes haven't been on the ball for a _long time…._and it's because of the police department and certain high-ranking officials that are on the payroll of the biker thugs that have been tearing Charming apart from the inside out ever since they crossed through Redwood….We WILL NOT stand for this….it's time to take the power back. And I am both _honored_, and wholeheartedly eager to lead this fight to restore civility and justice in our community…that is why my first priority when I…."_

"Judge Jacob Hale," _Chloe Sullivan reported. She was still gripping an umbrella in one hand, a microphone in her other as the clip from the front lawn of Hale manor during the aftermath of the hostage situation ended, eyewitness news cycle smash-cutting back to the solemn expression on her face. "….Just hours ago, formally announcing his plans to run for office in this year's Mayoral election…Despite the tragic turn of events at his family's annual fundraiser….and his yet-to-be explained connection to the mass murder that occurred at his family's cabin… Judge Hale is confident…."_

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Blood, sweat, and saliva soaked the dirty rag protruding from his mouth. Still, his screaming—his cries of pain and suffering reverberated off the basement walls, bled through the filthy, weathered cloth, through the duct-tape holding it in place.

Tears that not even the toughest man could fight poured down his face as the second wave of pain rocked through his system, as the KA-BAR speared through his right kneecap—as the blade twisted and turned.

His strangled screams heightened, then lessened to a tortured whimper, over and over. He was a music box—the horror story edition. And every time the pain ebbed, every time the ache dared to dull like the profusely bleeding gash on his other knee, Piney Winston would open the lid again.

He would twist the knife _again._

Then he pulled it out.

Then he started in on his wrists, his ankles—casually, like he was opening a package UPS delivered to his home, Piney slid the blade across the trembling Hispanic man's calves. He cut deep into the muscle, way deeper than the self-inflicted cuts on Tara's wrists and legs.

The cuts she'd sustained freeing herself of restraint.

"Stay with me," Piney tapped his palm across Hector Salazar's face, smacking him harder until his eyes slowly opened up again. "We're almost finished here," he told him. "I really wanted to….to _take my time…._I wanted to wait to hear back from the cop's…..to find out whatever she tells them….I wanted to know _everything _I don't have the stomach to imagine happened to her….I wanted to know _everything _she went through….that way I could make sure you feel _all of it."_

Piney squatted down in front of him, blindly reached up for the cigarette his best friend and President held out to him. "I know you'll think I'm full of shit, but you see….normally I'm not a violent guy," Piney mused, blowing smoke into his face. "I mean sure, if it's kill or be killed I shoot without blinking but…_this? _I've never been in to this kinda shit"—Piney paused, cocked his head sideways, stood up, leaned forward, snatching at the tape spread across Salazar's face from one ear to the other—"_Did you want to say something?"_

Piney yanked the rag from his mouth—didn't even blink when one of the many teeth he'd knocked from Salazar's mouth earlier flew towards his face.

"_Please," _Hector Salazar begged. "I—"

_"How many times?" _Piney growled, kicking his chair heard, dropping to his knees to grip his neck when the chair fell backwards. "How many times did she use that word? _Please…._How many times did she beg you to let her go?"

"_It was your boy Clay's idea—" _Salazar shut his eyes to the blade suddenly replacing the hand at his throat.

"Clay's sitting cozy up in Stockton," Piney barked, lightly pricking the skin directly above his chin. It was barely a sting, a pinch but he never moved the steel pressing against the Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat. "wasn't my idea to have him rot in there….but still….he must have some friends we don't know about or he's an even bigger _pussy _than I thought because he's in protective custody. Right now, I can't touch him," Piney smiled at the groan of pain that slipped through Salazar's gritted teeth when she moved the knife away from his throat, slicing a trail from his collarbone to his shoulder instead. "And that bastard Kohn is _dead. _So I can't touch him either…..but I can touch _you."_

Piney yanked the chair up, sitting him upright—drove the knife into his thigh. He grabbed the man screaming out in pain, threatening to fly backwards on his own—twitching and writhing from the agony.

He grabbed him by his neck to stabilize him. Then squeezed his jaw between his fingers, nails digging into his cheeks until he was forced to meet the cold, lethal glint in his ice-blue eyes. "_I'm going to kill you," _Piney whispered. "…but first I'm going to make sure you suffer. Before you die you're going to feel as miserableas I did….when I didn't know if I'd ever see my _daughter_ again."

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Duncan shrugged out of his jacket as he entered the living room. Tossing it aside, he sat on the couch beside her, sliding closer to her—flung the keys in his hand towards the coffee table, softly placed a hand on the knee she hugged to her chest.

"_You told him about the pregnancy._"

Diane's voice was montone—robot-like, flat and dejected. It matched the dread and heartache twisting up her tear-stained face, subtly shaking her shoulders with tremors from the tortured sob she'd managed to keep at bay for so long.

"Di," Duncan's frown deepened when she flinched away from his hand. "Baby, I know you're m—"

_"You told him about the _rape," Diane continued. "….he blames Padraic, you know….said he broke his promise to always keep me safe…."

"He _did," _Duncan replied gently. "He let his club life—"

"You told him about all the treatments," Diane pressed on. ".…and everything we went through trying to….to….and then you told him that for years I couldn't….and that the doctor's w-w-wouldn't….wouldn't do the transplant even if it was my…._you told him everything."_

"He had a right to know," Duncan argued gently. "He wouldn't be able to live with himself knowing what you gave up for him."

"He would have never _known_," Diane said, staring at the table in front of them. "I learned from the best, Duncan….the _gatekeeper….._I know how to lie…how to keep secrets to protect the people I love…I've done it for years….and when I told him I wasn't ready to be a….he _believed _me...or maybe he didn't….he always said I was a bad liar….maybe he just _wanted _to believe me for his own…._selfish _sake….either way it didn't matter. It didn't matter because I was getting something out of it, too," Diane croaked. "I got to keep my brother and….and Gracie got to keep her father….she _just _got him back and now she—"

"There are other ways—"

"YOU HAD NO FUCKIN RIGHT TO DO WHAT YOU DID!" Diane shrieked. She met his eyes, at last. "You already have a kid! A kid you hid from me….a kid you found out about when we were engaged…._before _we got married…And you didn't do it to protect anyone but yourself…this isn't any different….How _dare _you even sit there and pretend this was about my brother. You don't give a shit about how he feels. This wasn't about me either. This was about _you. _YOU couldn't live with _my _choice. You couldn't living with it so you took it away from me…._God…._you were supposed to be different….one of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make…and it was _mine _to make and you….you took it away from me….Once again I have _no _control over what happens….I said…._NO…._and it didn't matter…you still didn't listen….How could you do that? How could you think we'd be okay?"

Duncan closed the gap between them, gripped her wrists to keep her from pulling away. "Diane—"

"_Do you think she'll forgive me?" _Diane sobbed, she swiped the sleeve of her lab-coat across her face. "Do you think Gracie going to forgive me for letting her father die? I don't think she will, Duncan. I can't even imagine why she would ever forgive me….because I can't even bring myself to _try _forgiving you."

"Di—"

Diane dropped her knees, her bare feet touched the carpet as she leaned forward. His keys jangled, fell to the floor when she snatched up the stack of papers that were on the coffee table underneath them—the same papers he'd hoped to never see again, hoped her lawyers, the attorneys she fired wouldn't have saved.

"Same as before," Diane sat the brown, folder on the couch—flung it towards the spot next to him—the spot she vacated when she stood up. "I already signed them," she told him, walking away. "Have your lawyers…and your _mother _look over them. I'm not contesting the pre-nup. All I want is my car and my belongings…I'll have a U-Haul come pick the stuff up first chance I get. And I—"

"You're overreacting!" Duncan balked at the papers on the couch next to him, stood up—shook his head at the resolution in her eyes. "This isn't the solution when we have a disagreement. We're supposed to _fight, _goddamn it! Why are you always running, Diane?"

"I'm not having the abortion," Diane told him. "There'd be no point...If the kid makes it to full term—"

"What do you mean _if?" _Duncan shouted. "Is that why you didn't want to—you didn't think you'd….you think your brother would have a better shot than our—"

"_Your phone is ringing," _Diane announced.

Strained silence followed before a wry smile slowly cut through the pain permanently etched on her face. "Sorry," she mumbled, walking off. "It's _mine…._Hello?"

Duncan stood there, watching as she fixed her eyes on the wall behind him while she listened to whoever called her. "What time?" She asked. "….no, that's perfect…._I'll be their first thing."_

"What was that about?" Duncan's question disrupted the silence, broke through her brief moment of reverie as she stared blankly at the cellphone in her hand. "Diane, who was that?"

"It was Dr. Montgomery," Diane lied, turning away from him to walk down the hall. "…first OB appointment is next week…Just give me an hour to finish packing….I'm moving back in with my brother…..I'm going to be with my _family."_

_While I still have one._

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_"…..New details have emerged that paint a vivid picture of just how long and _severe _Joshua Kohn's obsession spanned prior to earlier today, when the deranged nineteen year old singlehandedly held fifteen year old Tara Knowles, along with at least fifty hostage at the custom-built residence of Charming county judge Jacob Hale's mansion…..A thorough sweep of the Knowles home uncovered several listening devices….surveillance equipment…even a camera that was hidden in her bedroom light….it is not yet clear how he managed to obtain high-grade police and military equipment to carry out this afternoon's assault and what appears to have been more than a year of watching the girl he forced to marry him on live television…..Kohn's was reportedly her tutor for several months prior today's events… even allegedly attended a birthday brunch for her boyfriend this past November….according to close friends and family, no one had reason to suspect…he was anything more than friendly…a mentor for Tara who is said to be a straight A-student, headed off to college at least a year ahead of her graduating class….Sixteen year old Jackson Teller, the teenage boy who is seen here…."_

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His eyelids felt heavy from the anesthesia, his body thankfully numb to the pain from surgery—but his ears and his mind were in working order.

Slowly, Jax opened his eyes to the sound of his own name. He blinked up at the screen, the TV mounted on the wall across from the hospital bed where he laid and listened. He'd had only a moment to watch the short, blond reporter assume to know things about his life, his love for Tara his rumored, _"Childhood sweetheart," _before he heard the door to his hospital room open, felt the breeze from the curtain pulled around to the foot of his bed, hiding the vacant bed on the other side.

Gemma entered his side of the room slowly, it was almost cat-like—until she saw that his eyes were open. Then hers were wide, she was at his side faster than her feet seemed capable in her spiked heels. She was kissing every inch of his face, bruises and soreness be damned, and she was only slightly aware of the soreness in his side as her knees dipped into his bed—as she sat in the bed next to him. "You scared the shit out of me, Jackson," Gemma gushed. "By the time I found out what was going on at the Hale's I couldn't get past any of the roadblocks. Traffic was jammed, cops were everywhere but I _knew _you'd be there because of her. I _knew _somehow you got through so I tried to get to you before you could….I left my car in the middle of road and tried to get through on foot but every time I got close I ran into another fuckin cop and Unser wasn't answering his goddamn phone so I couldn't get through. And your father…Tig…I couldn't get ahold of no one….I didn't know where anyone was and I just…_Jesus Christ…._What the Hell were you thinking, Jackson?" Gemma snapped. Her face was a kaleidoscope of emotions, each one blurring into another—anger, relief, sadness, worry, pain, guilt. "Your face is all over the news….you could have been_ killed!_"

Jax never resembled Johnathan Teller more than he did then. In that moment, he was the spitting image of his Old man—his expression completely undecipherable. Blue eyes were locked with a misty-eyed olive green but his face didn't grant her any reaction.

_"…..Breaking News in Charming, California," _News anchor James Olson announced, "_….local motorcycle club the Sons of Anarchy is making headlines yet again….Clarence "Clay" Morrow, one of the MC's founding members has been formally charged in the death of thirty-six year old Donald Levin... a self-employed truck driver...one who has a surprising connection to SAMCRO's _founding President_ ….eyewitnesses Lana Lang is live at Charming's police station with the report…."_

Then he looked away from her.

He looked up.

Gemma followed his line of vision—stared after the pretty Asian reporter on the TV screen.

They watched it together—they listened together.

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_"…..and it was there that his body was discovered….Now there has been an _increasing _amount of violence and unresolved murder cases in the San Juan County, and in Stockton districts…. the medical examination offices and their prospective police departments have been overwhelmed… labs backed up...their caseloads multiplying….and all while the monetary resources for overtime and the need for more manpower has yet to be addressed by the State….this, along with alleged corruption within the police departments themselves are said to be the reason that Donald Levin, a thirty-six year old truck driver is only just _now _being identified….four months after his wife and sister reported him missing…."_

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"Reporters can't even get the weather right half the time," Gemma snarked, scowling at the TV screen. "And they think they know _us…._think they have any idea about the life we live…all the shit we have to deal with on a daily basis…You might as well watch cart….."

_"…Levin was reportedly on his way back to Oregon after delivering goods to a local manufacturing warehouse in Bakersfield….according to the statement he'd given Charming Police Chief Wayne Unser, Levin was on his way back to his room at the Camelot when he was involved in a highway collision with SAMCRO founding President Johnathan Teller…It was just a week before Levin's reported disappearance that the father of three had given a sworn statement to the police….clearly stating that the nearly-fatal wreck….was _no accident…._Levin told authorities that Teller _deliberately _rode his bike in front of the semi-Mac truck he'd been driving…..that he had his arms spread out at his sides like Jesus Christ, eyes shut as he ran head-on into him….an attempted suicide that resulted in several months of gritty recovery at local hospital St. Thomas…and a miraculous near-miss for rattled, yet uninjured trucker…his brief moment of luck…tragically short-lived…."_

Jax didn't even blink when the screen went black, but his eyes flitted down to the table hovering above his legs—a still, ocean blue staring after the TV remote his mother replaced on the table's otherwise empty surface.

When he turned to meet her eyes, Gemma froze—her breath hitched when she saw the look on his face.

"Jackson—"

"_I didn't want to believe it, Ma,_" Jax admitted quietly. "…But ever since I found out about you and him….about what you…I couldn't stop wondering how long you were…or how deep it was….I couldn't stop wondering if you _knew _what he tried to do….if you _knew _Clay was the one spreading lies about JT….that Clay was the one that told Kyle to tell me he tried to kill himself…I didn't want to believe you hated him _that_ much…I couldn't even wrap my head around why you'd even hate him at all. I mean, what did he do? And was it that fuckin horrible that you'd help a guy that was supposed to be his best friend…his _brother…._what did JT do to you for you to jump in bed with the man trying to steal his gavel…at any cost….I just couldn't understand it…I didn't _want _to…"

Gemma shook her head. "Baby, you gotta understand," she urged. "There's so much you don't even know ab—"

"I know _everything," _Jax argued gently. The soft lilt of his voice never wavered, even as his eyes hardened, his nostrils flared. "I couldn't put it all together before...but now everything makes sense."

Jax glanced up at the black TV screen, the one she'd rushed to turn off. "…JT laying down his bike _wasn't _an accident…but it wasn't suicide either. That might be what Clay wanted everyone to believe but it's _bullshit..._All the clues were right there, all this time, but I couldn't see it clearly….I couldn't see past my old man lying half-dead in a hospital bed…not knowing if he'd live long enough for me to take back all the awful shit I said to him… and I couldn't see past Tara getting hurt….her accident...it was one shit storm after another, and when the dust finally settled….I had _Tara…._and I had my father back…and for a while that's all that mattered….But Lowell didn't throw away sixteen years of sobriety because Clay made him lie…he showed up at St. Thomas high as shit, apologizing to me because he _knew _he was responsible for whatever went wrong with JT's Harley…and whatever it was….Tara and LJ found out about it."

"Is that what Tara's been telling you?" Gemma scowled. "Jackson, I know you love her but—"

"_CLAY TRIED TO KILL MY FATHER!" Jax slammed his fist hard against the table. "_I _know _he did! There _was _no suicide…He paid that trucker to lie and Unser went along with the cover-up just like he goes along with everything else Clay does. This Levin asshole was a loose end he needed to tie up. And Kyle was _never _SAMCRO material. The guys would have never let him make patch and Clay knew that. He _used _him….and then I almost took care of his problem for him. God, it's like he…he _knows _me….like he knew exactly how I'd react…that I _would _react..."

"You're right, Baby," Gemma nodded at him, she moved closer to him. "You're right about Clay….and it wasn't the first time. Tampering with JT's bike wasn't the first time he tried to kill your father….John wasn't supposed to go on that run to Arizona with the club…he rode off to meet up with the club last minute….and I was…I was supposed to take you and Tommy to see your grandfather…John was supposed to be home alone when that Mayan, he…I almost lost you…you and Tommy."

"You _knew _and you were still fuckin him anyway," Jax accused, glowering at her.

Gemma shook her head. "I didn't," she urged. "Clay is a _liar…._and a _traitor…._Baby, he lied about so many things….there was so much he kept from all of us…all his side deals behind the club's back….threatening Tara's aunt when she got raped by those Nazi pricks….and _Mary…._you know I loved her more than anything and he….he _took her," _Gemma croaked. "I was foolish…I know I fucked up….but I was just so….your father was so distant after Thomas…and back then I didn't know what Clay was doing….he confided in me…he talked to me…he made me feel like I mattered….like I wasn't just some Old lady that pulled his beers….you had….you had _her…._and it hurt me…I know I was selfish….I've been so selfish because I wanted you to need me the way I needed you when your little brother died but all you wanted was that _girl…._Tara….Tommy dying….losing my baby boy was the first time I realized," Gemma swallowed against the lump in her throat, "….that was when I realized I lost you, too…I lost you to _her_…you weren't going to be mine forever…and John was always gone…always in Belfast...Diane took off and I had no fuckin idea why….and Mary already had one foot out the door…I….I was _lonely, _Baby_…._I needed John to be there for me the way Tara was for you…but he wasn't…_"_

Jax jaw clenched tight, his bottom lip trembled. It was a struggle to keep his composure—to keep the tidal wave of emotion at bay, as he finally forced the question from his mouth.

_"Did you really believe JT tried to kill himself," _Jax asked his mother, "_or were you covering for Clay?"_

Gemma hung her head, olive eyes fixed on the pristine, white sheets covering his legs. "….I was covering for him," she admitted quietly. Then she meet his eyes again, widening hers as she implored him to believe her. "But I swear to you, Jackson. I didn't know about Lowell. I didn't know it wasn't really accident—"

"You told Piney he tried to kill himself," Jax snapped. "You fed him some bullshit about an accident report—"

"_Because I wanted to take his gavel away!" _Gemma shrieked. "Your father hasn't belonged at the head of the table for a long time….And _yes….._I wanted to hurt him…I wanted to take away the one thing that still mattered to him…I wanted to take his _brothers…._I wanted him to know what _we _felt like...all those months he left us behind to grieve while he was in Belfast fuckin that Irish gash! I wanted _revenge _for what he did to our family! But I _never _tried to kill him."

"You're _lying _to me, Ma." Jax shook his head slowly, blue eyes brimming with unshed tears. "You didn't pull the trigger…you didn't even give him the gun, but you knew all about it…._Jesus Christ, _Gemma….you _never _lost me….I'm your son…._I love you…._and I thought you loved me, too—"

"I _do _love you, Baby," Gemma told him, clutching at her chest. "…from the deepest…purest part of my h—"

"THEN WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS TRYING TO TAKE EVERYTHING?!" Jax yelled. "You tried to take my father from me….you tried to chase Tara away….and if it wasn't for her JT wouldn't even be here….._She's _the reason I didn't give up on him, not _you…._Tara's the reason I was at the hospital that night Clay showed up alone….had a needle in his hand….claimed it was for Tig….Yeah, Mom…I remember that, too. The Nurse said you put restrictions on who was allowed to visit him…Clay wasn't on the list but I didn't even think about it….you're right, Mom….you're always saying I'm too wrapped up in Tara and you're _right…._you're right because I should have put two and two together a long time ago…but I've been lying here for hours…scared to open my eyes…to face the truth…I should have realized that there was a _reason _Clay was the only one not allowed to visit…but instead all I could think was that you were trying to find a way to cut Tara out….and she _saw _you…both of you…she heard you in the chapel…crying on his shoulder….begging him….telling him _no more….._no more _what, _Gemma? What did you want no more of? Clearly it wasn't his _dick. _You couldn't get enough of that."

Gemma's eyes ballooned, her arm drew back, almost reflexively. "JACKSON!"

"_I still love you, Mom," _Jax shook his head, his vision blurred, eyes erupted with tears he could hold back no longer. His grip on her wrist wasn't rough, just firm enough to hold off the slap she'd angrily aimed at his face. "Even after everything you've done…. All the shit with Tara….and _Mary…._and Clay…_trying to kill my _father_….I love you so much," _Jackson cried. "And I don't think there's a single thing in this world that could ever stop me from loving you….I can't turn it off…You're in me….I'm a part of you….But _Tommy…._he was a part of me, too….I loved my little brother more than anything…the only person in this world that loved him more than me is you…_I lost him…._and it….it broke me…I didn't think I'd ever be the same…and maybe I'm not….but I _survived…_I learned how to live my life without him…."

Gemma pursed her lips, her face twisted—a futile effort to stop the sob creeping its way up her throat. "_Jackson—"_

"JT could have killed you," Jax told her, crying harder. "…part of him probably still wants to after what you did…and that's the difference between you and him…he loves his son enough to swallow his own righteous rage…it might have took him some time….but he knows how to put me first….the way you _used to…._But my best friend lost his mother…Opie lost her because of you…and Piney has a son that'll probably never forgive him…_because _of you….these are all people that I love…I love _them _too, Ma….and it's like you've been telling me over and over….SAMCRO is a family…._my _family….and they want you dead…._but I don't want that," _Jax croaked. "I don't want you to die...I don't want the breaks on your car to suddenly stop working when you're driving home…I don't want you caught in the crossfire of some _Mayan ambush…_I don't want you buried on the side of a highway….but I don't…Mom, I _can't _lose another brother….and if Opie," Jax shook his head, squeezed his eyes tight—cleared his mind of notion he couldn't stomach voicing out loud, "….we'd never get past it…I could never forgive him…the same way he'll never forgive _you."_

"I know I can't stay here," Gemma admitted. "I know it's not safe for me anymore….that's why I made arrangements...a way for us to make it out of Charming. I'm going to have to lay low for a few days but as soon as the doctor clears you to go home, we can—"

It was nothing more than a subtle shake of his head—yet it was enough to make her blood run cold, her heart stutter and stall. "Not _we," _Jax corrected, "_You…._you have to leave…you have to leave _now..._before it's too late."

"Jackson I'm not leave y—"

"I _can't_ go with you," Jax said. His voice cracked, it broke with their hearts—both mother and son, as he reached for her other hand. "….I can't leave my family behind."

Gemma smiled then, but it wasn't bitter—it was pure grief, a begrudging acknowledgement of a truth he didn't need to speak. "You mean you can't leave _her."_

_I love her too much._

Jax ignored the stiffness in his arms as he sat forward, Gemma forgot all about the hours old gunshot wound on his abdomen, his hand encircled her neck, hers wrapped around his waist, holding him tight—squeezing her son for dear life as he cried against her shoulder. _"I love you, Mommy," _Jax sobbed. "…but I gotta let you go….I _have _to….and if you really love me…._you'll never come back."_

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_**TO BE CONTINUED... **  
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_**(**Deets are posted on facebook**)**_

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**STILL WITH ME? **

If you ARE, let me know what you thought.

**P.S: **I suggest you schedule an appointment with your dentist, because when I finally **do **get to CH74, it's going to be cavity-inducingly sweet. And get some Pepto Bismol while you're at it, because it _might _get a little..._spicy._

**|REVIEW|**


	86. Chapter 73: Part IV

**RANDOM FYI: **I finally caved and downloaded _Words with Friends. _So yeah, ... it's a miracle I actually finished this. #Guilty #Shrugs #WhatTheFuckis**ZA**?

**Chapter 73: **Part **IV **(LAST** part so, _**Girls Hit ya Hallelujah!**_)

*This will be the first time I ask forgiveness for grammatical errors. I'm tired by now &amp; if I wait to edit later, I'll attempt writing the scenes I forced myself cut out. _And this shit is long enough already._ **:-)**

\- **Veriable *Old *Lady *Crow**

* * *

**_See, I've tried and found out this one thing is true,_**

**_that I'm nothing without you,_**

**_I know better now,_**

**_And I've had a change of heart..._**

* * *

It was definitely one of those moments when one simply couldn't keep track of time. None of it was lost, every second in every minute was precious. It was to be treasured, wholly appreciated because when the moment was gone—so was she.

Gemma Teller was gone.

Jax watched his mother leave him. Through blurry, tear-filled eyes, he watched every heavy footstep towards the exit—sad, blue eyes fixed on the dejected silhouette of the woman who raised him from an infant, watched her shadow through the curtain pulled in front of his bed slowly drift away, dissapearing behind the private hospital room door.

Time had never been less important—it'd lacked the essence people often spoke of. It was just minutes turned to hours until the sun had slowly began it ascent, glaring light peeking in through the windows' blinds.

At some point, there came a subtle clicking of the door handle turning—and red-rimmed eyes snapped towards the entryway, wide-eyed and hopeful, and all for naught as the hospital aide wheeled in the breakfast choices of the day.

"Good Morning," Susie Chandler chirped, smiling brightly. She waved her hand at the infamous breakfast buffet St. Thomas always spoiled their pediatric patients with. "You can have as much of anything as you want. What's your pleasure, Sweetie?"

Jax didn't want to eat, he didn't want anything to drink, he didn't want to talk about how he was feeling when the doctors did their morning rounds.

There was only one thing he wanted—one person he wanted to see. And it was synonymous with the one thing he needed, the very reason leaving Charming with his mother simply wasn't an option.

_"He'll have the waffles,"_ Tara answered, suddenly appearing behind her. Susie turned her head, eyes rounding in surprise at the teenage girl smiling meekly at the sixteen year old lying in the bed in front of her. "But he likes pancakes, too," Tara continued, green eyes scanning the cart, pointing her finger. "And sausage, and bacon….maybe a croissant…that raspberry Danish looks pretty good…home fries, too….and….I think he'll take a blueberry scone as well."

Susie brought a hand to her hip, eyebrows rising. "Oh, is that all _he_ wants?"

Jax reached towards the buttons along the railing of his bed, wincing as he pressed the blue arrow, raising the head of his bed up. "Yeah," Jax grunted out, propping a pillow behind his back, "And can I get some milk and O.J with it?"

"And Apple juice," Tara added.

Jax smiled, lips twisting to one side of his face. "And apple juice," he repeated, shaking his head at the brunette moving to sit in the chair next to his bed. Susie quickly doled out all of the food and drinks requested, brown eyes glancing curiously between the two teens who seemed to be having their own private conversation—without words.

His blue eyes never wavered from the sparkling green they were locked with as he offered the nosey hospital aid a quick, "Thank you," barely nodding acknowledgement when she informed him that she'd be back a little later to take his lunch order.

The door barely snapped shut before Tara was jumping up, pressing her hand to his chest to keep him from getting out of bed. "You need to relax," Tara urged. "You just had surgery."

"Doc says I'm lucky," Jax grunted out in pain, rushing to sit up straighter, "...Bullet went right underneath my ribs….Shit sure don't feel _lucky..._and between my busted nose and the hole in my side, I lost a lot of blood," Jax admitted. He hissed out a reluctant sigh of relief when Tara pressed the |DOWN| button, lowering the bed back a little. "….and I guess I must have hit my head a little harder than I thought when I fell on the stairs….I've got a conc—"

"I am _so sorry," _Tara blurted out, fingering the plastered gauze and bandaging peeking out through the sides of his hospital gown.

"_Heyyy," _Jax ignored the pain coursing through his chest, sitting forward yet again when he noticed the fresh tears glittering her eyes. It happened in the blink of an eye—one with more than few unshed tears. The joy of seeing each other alive and well dissipated, it was a short-lived moment of relief, bogged down by misplaced guilt. "I'm okay, Babe," he promised, "and _none _of this is your fault, Tara."

"_I told him I wanted you to see_," Tara croaked. "All those cops…pointing their guns at you and he was just _watching…_he was enjoying it, Jax…they could have killed you and all because I made you a part of his sick, twisted—"

"Tara—"

"_And it was true," _Tara half-whispered, averting her emerald gaze from the quizzical look in eyes. "…all the stuff that he….I _really _said all of that…and Jackson….it was _true…._Joshua…he _did…._h-h-he saved me from…..and then I thought it was….when it first happened, I thought it was _you…_I thought you'd come for me…and that everything was going to be okay…but he…._he had his own plans for me…._and he…_God, Jackson…_so many people are dead because of me….and you almost died because of m—"

When Jax leaned forward, Tara forgot all about the gunshot wound, ignored the pain in her side, the soreness of ribs—and she held on tight to the boy wrapping his arms around her, the garbled words whispered past both sets of trembling lips a recurring apology neither teenager was willing to accept from the other.

Tara forced herself to pull back slightly, looked into the piercing blue eyes studying every scrape or faded bruising on her face. "Jackson," Tara squeaked, "….those men that took me at the clubhouse….they were part of SAMCRO," she admitted quietly, glancing down at his chest. "…. I know I give you a hard time about your father's club…and I'm not saying it was everyone…I really don't what to think…but….but you gotta believe me, Jax—"

"I know," Jax nodded, framing her face with a gentle hand, brushing her hair back behind her ear. "…It was _Clay_, Babe…he was behind everything…but you don't have to worry about him... JT and Piney, they handled him….that asshole's never getting out of Stockton," Jax leaned in towards her, lightly pressing his lips to her forehead when she hung her head. "I was coming in there to get you no matter what," Jax told her, brushing the pad of his thumb at the corner of her eye. "…and there wasn't a damn thing anyone could have said or done to stop me," He kiss the tip of her nose, basking in the effect of the golden flecks sparkling in her eyes from the sunlight seeping in through window. "I already told you before…and I know it's my fault that you might not believe me…but it's the truth…I can't lose you, Tara…._I love you way to fuckin much to live through that."_

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

A loud buzz sounded above her head, and Diane blinked with sudden awareness, stepping forward as the metal gates clanged open. The click-clack of her heels echoed throughout the empty, narrow corridor. A light breeze wafted around the exposed skin of her arms as the notarized papers in her hand flapped back and forth, page by page with every switch of her hips until she reached the office at the end of the Hall.

There, Ray Richardson stood, waiting for her—dark eyes unabashedly perusing her slender frame in the mint-green scrubs she was wearing. "You're right on time, Ms. Knowles," Richardson waved a hand towards the man lying in stoic silence on a stretcher in the center of the otherwise empty medical room. Diane pulled the pen clipped to the breast-pocket of her scrub top, clicked it open as she reached for the clipboard on the computer desk. "He's been complaining of back pain," Richard commented, smirking, "Among other things."

"Says here, he got into a fight," Diane mused, eyes scanning the document in her hand. "Six against one," Diane briefly glanced up the bloody, battered man, pursing her lips as she studied the one eyes that wasn't swollen shut staring blankly up at the ceiling. "….didn't know that was possible in _solitary."_

C.O Ray Richardson chuckled. "Lee's always been a resourceful son of a bitch," the crooked corrections officer mused. "Anyway…if you think he looked the shit now…you see the other end of him….I don't know what the poor bastard did but—"

_"Five minutes," _Diane interrupted, glancing up to glare at him. "…I was told I'd get a chance to—"

"Oh yeah, yeah, yeah," Richardson said, walking backwards, gesturing his thumb towards the open doorway behind him. "….I'll be right down the hall…and uh…I don't think he'll be much of a problem but uh…be careful…there was another inmate here…he likes to stick shit in people's ears so—"

_"I'll be fine," _Diane interjected, waving him off. Her sigh was one of relief when the door snapped shut behind him. That was when, at last, she approached him—slow, careful steps towards the man who'd finally meet her cold, hard gaze when she reached the foot of his bed.

Clay Morrow cleared his throat, the labored effort twisting his bruised, swollen features. "He told," Clays head snapped back against the stiff hospital cot as a he broke out into a fit of coughing. "…Toric….your _Uncle…._he said this w...wah," Clay cleared his throat loudly yet again, "he said this was..._good for you, _I guess….the first clubhouse rager he brought you to…Gem never thought you had it in you…Hell, even Pat doubted you could….but I always knew….I knew you were capab—"

"_How fuckin dare you," _Diane seethed, glowering at the man barely capable of turning his head to look at her with the brace around his neck. "How dare you sit there and talk to me about the…after _everything _you did….I was terrified…I didn't know what to do…JT and Piney were inside…Chibs was in Belfast…and…._John should have never let you hold his gavel…._you are the cause….for everything God-awful thing that has ever happened to me…._even now…_I don't know how to be happy….I can never seem to _stay _happy….you _ruined _me."

"You ruined _me," _Clay admitted quietly. His voice barely constituted as a whisper, it melded with the cold air fanning through the room. "…the things I've had to….I _always _knew you had it in you...deep down everybody does, but _this…._this shit—"

"_Don't,"_ Diane hissed, squeezing her eyes shut to the man lying in front of her. He was a fuckin pathetic sight, the remnants of man who once thought he was above consequences—and it infuriated her beyond reason. Diane was angry because years ago she'd thought he was finally done taking from her.

But he wasn't.

Diane slowly opened her eyes to the pitiful face twisting her emotions. "You were always an asshole," she mused. "I guess it's fitting that, that's all you are in here…._you're just somebody's asshole…_but there were these moments before when," Diane presed a shaky palm to her forehead, combed her fingers through her auburn hair, "…there are these moments when I think to myself...this shit is inhumane…_nothing _can justify it, no matter what you…and you weren't the one…you didn't _do _what those men did to me…you were _just…_and I think to myself, _How can you be okay what this? With _any _of it? _How could you…"

Diane met his eyes full on then, her livid gaze locked in with the lone, ice-blue eye staring up at her. "…but then," she told him, "…when I'm standing in the mirror…and I _cannot _stand what I see….I force myself to remember….I remember _everything…_I remember how hard scared I was…I remember how I _begged _you to help me…that you could have saved me but you told those men…you told them I didn't matter….I remember when I barely made it out alive…how broken I was…and all you had for me were threats….I remember how you told me to take one for the team…I remembered when you killed Mary…that you murdered a desperate mother who only wanted to get her son away from _you…_from the life of chaos you created….._My God…._it was the one selfless thing Gemma ever did for me….she _knew _I was there…I met her eyes before I disappeared behind the….and I remember that you would killed me _too _if you'd known….I remember when you threatened my niece and my brother…when you threatened to kill Padraic if I…._and make it look like an accident_….cover it up….like every other awful thing you've done behind the club's back…I remembered that you tried to kill JT…that you tried to take Jax's father from him because he wanted to get the club out of all the shit that led to my rape…._and you kidnapped Tara…_you put her life at risk, and for what? _Money?" _Diane sniffled, brushing the back of her hand across the angry tears steadily flowing. Waving a hand up and down her body, she shook her head at him. "I _fuckin hate this," _she confessed. "I hate being _capable…_that I can even be this person….and when I walked in here…and I see you all broken and battered…._violated…_it's my conscience….it's the thing _you _weren't born with that makes me sick to my stomach…but _Clay? _No matter how awful I feel, I just can't stop reminding myself….that this dark place I'm standing in? _You dragged me here."_

A strangled sob tore through the mangled man's throat, it cut through her with the swiftness of a knife sliced through butter, but she couldn't feel it.

She needed herself not to feel it.

"_I'm sorry," _Clay croaked, tears stinging the cuts on his face. "I'm…._I'm sorry…_for what I did to you….for _everything…."_

Diane nodded once. "I know," she breathed, turning her back on him to walk away. Sitting the clipboard in her hand down on the desk, she reached for the doorknob, pulling the door open. "I know you are," Diane said, pausing in the doorway to glance back at him. "…._So am I."_

C.O Ray Richardson glanced up from the playboy magazine hidden between the pages of the newspaper in his hand. Eyebrows rising, he barely pushed off from the wall he'd been leaning against in time to fall in stride with the red-headed nurse speed-walking down the dark, empty corridor. "You weren't kidding about the five minutes, Huh?"

"No more _visitors," _Diane instructed, fixing hard eyes on the dirty guards curious expression. "Just give him two more weeks, then send him back to Gen-Pop…his club'll take care of him," Diane stopped walking then, pointing a finger towards the shit-eating smirk on his face. "I meant what I said about the visits…._No more."_

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

Tara head rested against his chest, his chin on the top of her head. She was curled up beside him, wrapped up in his arms—the only true comfort she'd found in days. Even with the railing of the bed pressing against her backside, she couldn't bare moving even an inch. She'd long since lost the battle, Jax taking both of her hands in his, urging her to climb in bed with him so he could hold her, despite her protests citing the pain she knew he had to be in. But there, right next to him is where she was, where she intended to stay for as long as it took the lazy nurse covering her side of the floor to realize she wasn't in her room, staying in bed, per her doctor's specific orders. As far as the two teenagers lying in comfortable silence together were concerned, there was only one remedy—a single form of treatment that simply couldn't be measured by the dosage. The notion had transcended want a long time ago—it was to the point of need.

Jackson and Tara _needed_ each other.

One could never truly be well without the other.

_"Jackson," _Tara murmured, tilting her head back to look up at him. She studied the intensity in his eyes, the storm of emotions swirling in all the shades of blue—and the corner she saw there, a deep-rooted worry that nearly made her own anxiety feel benign. Still, she couldn't avoid asking him, letting him know what had been on her mind ever since she'd slipped out of her room to find him, to see with her own eyes that he was okay.

"What's wrong, Babe?" Jax asked, blue eyes scanning her face, then her chest and downward for any signs of something physically wrong.

"I'm fine," Tara assured him, sitting up, tucking her legs underneath her as she turned towards him. "I'm _okay, _Jax…it's just…well, I'm wondering if you're….if you're okay, I mean….I know he was….but even though he…._deserved it," _Tara forced herself to say, "….you still…you….you _killed _someone."

Jax shook his head, imploring her with his eyes to understand the words dancing on the tip of his tongue. _"That wasn't the first time, Tara_," he confessed. "….the other day when….when we got into that big fight...when you told me about my…that JT had a daughter and I flipped out on you—"

_"I should have told you as soon as I—"_

Jax stalled her words of apology with the fingers he laced within hers. "It had to happen, Babe," Jax told her. "Don't get me wrong, Baby….I regret the way I treated you…I know you didn't deserve that….even with all the shit I'd been giving you for taking up for her…you never stopped trying to fix things with me and mom and I…._but Tara…._I know this shit is going to sound really crazy, but….you couldn't have picked a better moment to tell me the truth…I reacted exactly the way you feared I would….but it was a _good _thing…it was good because….because Gemma didn't have to be alone on Christmas Eve…and you weren't there with me…and I'm_ so _happy you weren't because I don't know if I could have protected you both…I _barely _protected her from…."

Tara reached for his other hand, squeezing both of them within hers. "What happened?"

"It was like dejavu," Jax told her. "…the same as before when me and Tommy were in the dining room and…Gemma was in the kitchen….but it was just us this time…and we were in the living room….sitting on the couch, eating cookies and watching that stupid Christmas story flick Piney and Opie loved to make us watch over and over….we were talking about Tommy, too when…these men just kicked the front door through and rushed in…it was like three of four of them….I don't know if they were after my mom or me…or both but I….all I saw was them hurting her….first chance I got….as soon I managed to get a gun in my hand, I didn't hesitate….I just kept pulling the trigger, over and over….until they were all down."

Tara slowlys pulled a hand away from his, pressed her palm to his face, and gently nudged his chin up until he met her eyes. "You _know _what I was willing to do for you," Tara told him. "You saw it with your own eyes….and I know it's scary, Jackson….it really is…it's scary knowing that I'm willing to do anything…._anything _to protect you….but that's what you do when you love someone….you protect them…and that's what you did….You protected your mom, Baby….you saved her just like you saved me…you did the only thing you know how to do when you're willing to put someone else before yourself."

Jax turned his head, lips pressing against the center of her palm. "But that's not where it ended, Tara," he said. "There was another guy….he was the driver I guess or…I really have no fuckin idea who he was or…he tried to run away…he was driving off in a van…just like the one they took you…and I shot the tires out…I stopped him before he could leave...and there was this moment….I pulled him out of the van….kicked his teeth in…and I just kept…I kept kicking him but then I stopped…I stopped when Gemma handed me the gun in her hand…she told me to _finish it…._and there was a part of me that wanted to….but it was like….it was like my vision was all fucked up….when I looked down at him all I could see was _your face…._the look in your eyes when Unser pulled me off of Kyle….the way you backed away from me in David's room after what you saw me do to that jock that tried to _force himself—"_

"I was afraid _for _you, Jackson," Tara told him. "I know you'd never do anything to hurt me….not like that….you look out for the people you care about…and no matter what you've said or done…you're always there when it counts….when it matters the most…"

Jax nodded, but even as his acknowledged her words he looked down at their joined hands on the bed, in the tiny space between them. "After that shit with the Mayans," He shook his head, handsome features darkening with a phantom pain of a memory that would never leave him. "…Tommy was always scared it was gonna happen again….he'd watch for JT to check the windows and make sure they were locked…test the hinges on the front door and promise not even the incredible hulk could break it down. He…he'd duck behind me, hide behind my legs if something went bump…it was months before he'd even sleep in his own bed…let me sleep in _my _own bed…we all had to sleep together….most nights JT wouldn't even sleep on the floor…we'd just huddle together…me and Thomas between them…and then when my Dad went inside for…for _settling the score….._for the longest he was….he got even worse….and the whole time I was….Tara, I was the biggest fuckin hypocrite in the world because every night I'd tell my baby brother that he had no reason to be afraid….when I knew I was scared shitless, too…"

"Scared and _brave," _Tara mused, brushing her thumb along the back of his hand, "You don't have to be one or the other, Jackson...if you're smart, the two are usually synonymous."

"_Tara," _Jax half-whispered. Her name was a prayer on his lips, the crystal blue eyes locked with hers begged for understanding, and even more startling, forgiveness. "….when I shot him….when I raised the gun to that crazy…twisted, heartless son of a….when it first happened all I could think was I didn't want you to end up like Tommy….I didn't want you looking over your shoulder….waiting for him to come back…and I didn't want to wait for it either, Babe…I would have drove you crazy even if you weren't already there….needing to be with you every second if I didn't want to lose my own goddamn mind…."

Tara nodded stiffly, ignored the soreness screaming in her ribs when she curved her body forward, lowering her head to meet the eyes fixed on the pristine, white sheets covering his legs. "….and _now?"_

"I'm not sorry he's dead, Tara." Jax met her eyes thin, and the moisture welled up in the blue caused a hitch in her breathing. "…everything that he did to you…what he _tried _to do while I sat there helpless….he _deserved it…._he deserved to die, Baby. He had to—"

"I know," Tara urged, hands releasing his to rub away at the tension coiling throughout his body, massaging his forearms. "I know he did and I th—"

"I know he deserved it, Tara," Jax choked out, clenching his jaw tight. "…but I know what it's like to love someone no matter how fucked up they are…no matter how many fucked up things they've done. And he…I just can't help thinking that his Old man was just doing what JT would have done for me….him wearing a badge doesn't matter...and his _mother…._she's probably a fuckin mess right now, Tara…because of me, she's probably just as miserable as Gemma was when she lost Tommy…now that she's lost….but that's not even the worse part…the shit that's eating at me the most isn't even the fact that killed someone in cold blood, without blinking….it's thinking that no matter how much you love me, you'll see me differently."

Tara shook her head. "I won't," she promised. Then her hands were intertwined with his again. "I swear, I'd _never."_

"He was reaching for the officers gun," Jax said. "That's the what Unser told JT to have me say but it's a lie, Tara…He wasn't reaching for anything. I didn't feel threatened…I was _angry…._I wanted him dead because he hurt you…and the look on his face…the shock when I pulled the gun on him…I swear to God, I was smiling inside when I pulled the trigger….._what the Hell does that make me?"_

Tara didn't have an answer for him. She didn't want to think about it, wouldn't give a shit if she had. _"I love you, Jackson," _was her only reply. And it was the only answer he really needed.

Jax cleared his throat, turned towards the ottoman-couch next to the window, nodded his head towards the plastic bag filled with his cellphone and all the shredded clothing they'd cut off of him when he was rushed in through the ER. "Babe, could you get that bag for me?"

"Sure." Tara eased her way off the bed, the chill from the tiles underneath her feet seeping in through the hospital socks on her feet as she retrieved what he'd asked for, handing it over to him.

"Thanks," Jax pulled the plastic bag open, turned it upside down, shaking the contents from it.

Tara fixed her eyes on the cellphone above his knee. "Who're you calling?" she wonder aloud. "Gemma?"

Jax shook his head, brushed the cellphone aside as he dipped his hand into the pockets of his cut up jeans, searching—until he'd found what he'd been looking for.

From the denim's right, back-pocket he pulled the charm bracelet he'd bought her for Christmas. Jax glanced up at her then, and as he held it in his palm, the passion in his eyes served as the only summons Tara needed.

Wordlessly, she sat down beside him, and extended her wrist to the boy clasping the bracelet between his fingers.

It was unavoidable, the thoughts.

The memories flashing through her mind of the letter she'd read right before she put it on for the first time. The moment she'd pulled it off when she caught him—

And the fit of anger, the soul-crushing pain of betrayal she'd felt when she tossed the bracelet in his face.

She couldn't stop the memories from coming, but she didn't want to dwell on the bad. Jax was willing to die for her. In that moment, the pain of almost losing him mattered more than any she'd felt before. Tara loved him with every fiber of her being—something she doubted would ever change. And after everything they'd been through, the unspeakable pain she'd almost had to endure—the piece of her she'd been willing to sacrifice for him…It didn't matter how hard she fought the truth, how hard they both did.

There wasn't a single thing she wouldn't be willing to do for Jackson Teller, the boy she loved.

Especially forgive him.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

Althea Jary glanced up from the opened briefing on the desk in front of her before he'd reached his third consecutive knock along the threshold of her open, office door. AUSA Jary cocked an eyebrow in question, barely containing her attraction to the bright smile he cast her as he approached her, deep brown eyes briefly touching on the _Assistant U.S Attorney _moniker on her desk as he helped himself to one of the two chairs in front of it. "Hi," the bright-eyed lawyer said, reaching a hand over to shake hers before settling in the seat. "My names Cary Agos….you're the leading DA on the Kohn case—"

Althea blinked hard, shaking her moment of flustering off as she quickly snapped the manila folder open in front of her shut. "Yes," she admitted. "Was it _Agos,_ you said?"

"As in _Florrick, Agos &amp; Lockhart," _Cary declared proudly. "I realize my firm's been making the papers as of late with the whole States attorney scandal and our unfortunate history with—"

Althea slid forward in her chair, shook her head in confusion. "I'm sorry but…what exactly are you doing here?"

Cary nodded at her, pearly white shining. "I'm here to represent my client, Jackson Teller—"

"Nothing's been decided," Althea said quickly. "We're—"

"I _know _it hasn't," Cary told her, smiling still. "That's what I'm here for, Ms. Jary…I'm here to lend a hand…help make the _decision _a little easier on you. And I have no doubt your time is every bit as valuable as mine is, so Please, Ms. Jary, let's not bullshit each other. I'd prefer be candid…lay everything out on the table. That way, we have an understanding."

"Alright," Althea leaned forward, hands folded into a tent on her desk. "Your client is responsible for the deaths of two men, one of them a decorated officer. Frankly, I could close my eyes, throw a _rock _and I doubt I'd hit a person who _wasn't _a witness to him taking Agent Timmons hostage, holding him at _gunpoint, _and all so he could make his way inside to kill the nineteen year old that took his high school sweetheart hostage and forced her to marry him on national television."

"See, when you say it like that, it makes it sound as if you think Joshua Kohn was the victim," Cary remarked snidely.

"Joshua Kohn _was _a victim," Althea argued. "You don't need a doctorate in psychiatry to know he wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer—"

"Speaking of _knives," _Cary interrupted, raising an eyebrow at her, "Have you or any of your investigators had the opportunity to speak with a Lowell Harland Jr? According to his mother, Kohn's cousin fingered _him _for the attempt on his life. According to his doctor, it's a miracle he's even alive…stabbed over eighteen times—"

"As I've said we're still building our case," Althea interjected. "Local PD and FBI are still piecing together evidence. Trying to ferret out all of what Kohn was culpable and any involvement Teller and, _or _his father's MC may have had—"

"Are these the same law enforcement officers that sat on their hands for nearly _two _weeks, withholding evidence that could have led to the apprehension of Kohn _before _anyone, including himself _died?" _Cary questioned.

Althea smirked. Standing up, she swiped the brief from her desk, twisting a key in the lock of the drawer next to her, placing the folder inside before locking it shut once more. "The charge for inciting a riot may prove circumstantial, I'm willing to give you that," she mused, grinning as she reached for the jacket to her pantsuit, "But murder one and every assault charge for every _single_ officer he caused harm to, not excluding the Agent that lost his life….it's all a slam dunk….guaranteed conviction and if you think otherwise…well," Jary chuckled, turning to reach for her purse on top of the shelf behind her, "You'll have plenty of time to argue your case in court...I seriously doubt Patterson is going to want to plea this one out….way too many eyes."

Cary stood with her then, fastening the buttons to his well-tailored suit, walking around her desk to meet, stopping directly in her path. "I read the testimony from the officers present in that room when—"

"Bullshit," Jary challenged. "I haven't even seen—"

"_You _haven't, Ms. Jary," Cary told her. "But I have…I stepped off a plane half an hour ago and I'm already up to speed on everything that _wasn't _covered by the press and every news anchor chomping at the bit for exclusives on how just _one _psychotic nineteen year old managed to bring every law enforcement officer in the State of California to it's knees….all those _whispers _about judicial misconduct…_corruption… _pitting evidence… every badge you have geared up to testify against a sixteen year old _hero_…they all have s_ecrets…_they all have dirty laundry that I won't hesitate to air out on whatever public platform I'm given access…that I won't think twice about using to make to words _serve and protect _a running joke until every elected official in the State of California is packing their shit up in boxes….when I'm done with you, the higher up's are going to _clean….house."_

"It doesn't matter who's sitting in my chair, Mr. Agos." Althlea squared her shoulders, stepping close enough to see every line crinkling the corners of his almond-shaped eyes. "All the facts remain the same. Jackson Teller murdered Joshua Kohn, in front of a room full of agents who are ready and more than willing to testify to that fact."

"Yes, but testify to _what?" _Cary challenged. "According to Agent Taylor, Kohn wasn't—"

"I already know where you're going," Jary interrupted, holding a hand up to his face, "Cut the bullshit, Counselor…You criminal attorney assholes kill me…your client has a smudge of dirt on his nose, you're claiming gross negligence and police brutality. Even when we're by the book you still find a way to manipulate standard procedure to suit your interest. Would you have preferred they cuff his hands behind his back while he cried out in agony? Joshua Kohn suffered a broken arm, an injury caused by _your _client during a struggle that would have never taken place—"

"He was trying to rape a fifteen year old girl," Cary argued, eyes widened, "Please, Ms. Jary. Tell me I'm not hearing you correctly. Are you seriously suggesting that Teller should have waited...for _back up?"_

"He should have never been in that room to begin with," Althea snapped. "He was obstructing justice the second he pointed a gun at the guard keeping the Hale manor gates closed!"

"_Maybe," _Cary replied. Tipping his head, he offered her a lazy shrug, shoulder rising with his eyebrows. "But then again maybe not….maybe there's some truth to the hostage that told him he was the final demand, the one I doubt you're even bothering to—"

"Oh, you're not seriously resting your case on this mystery hostage," Jary griped, slapping a hand against her thigh. "You'd have better luck arguing that the devil on his shoulder made him do it!"

"The suspect wasn't _secured_," Cary argued, smiling. "Teller may have broken _one_ of his arms, but the arm he used to reached for Officer Clayton's gun was just fine—"

"Oh you have _got _to be fuckin kidding me!" Jary growled, brown eyes wild. "Is that the case you're making? Self-defense? _Really?"_

Cary shrugged, his mega-watt smiled didn't lose a lumen of sparkle. "Agent Taylor _himself _commended Jackson for convincing Tara Knowles to turn over the gun in her hand…the gun she intended to use to kill the deranged lunatic that kidnapped and tried to rape her while her boyfriend watched helpless to stop him…._Taylor's _the only apple in this bunch that isn't rotten and his sworn statement more than proves that Jackson had absolutely _no _intention of taking anyone's life. He'd already accomplished what he'd set out to do, which was save the life of the girl _your people _failed to protect…He handed the gun over to Taylor—"

"_Because he knew he had another one behind his_—"

"Because he thought it was over, Ms. Jary," Cary stated simply. "But then he saw Kohn reaching for the officer's gun…the officer who was too distracted just like all the other officers focusing on the hysterical teenage girl with a gun in _her _hand…they might not have seen him, but it happened….By some miracle, Jackson _remembered _he still had Officer Timmons gun….he shot Kohn in order to protect the girl he'd been Hell-bent on protecting from the start…or maybe himself….or _both…_who really knows who Kohn would have shot first…All we know with absolute certainty, is that there was only one _serial _murderer in that room…it was nineteen year old you now plan to charge my client with murdering...and there is only one piece of advice I can offer you and Ms. Patterson…._Don't do it…._you're going to lose…and it'll be more than just a high-profile case against a teenager the Daily News has already declared America's _Braveheart..._it'll mean the destruction of the entire legal system and every hand that could have helped prevent this being on the chopping block….my in-house investigator managed to dig up a very interesting case….one where a seventeen year old Kohn was arrested for possession of an illegal handgun….aggravated assault against a cashier at the Lodi Mall….a case _your _office decline to prosecute….could that have been because _Daddy-_Agent Kohn put in a call to Patterson? The ole' you wash my hand, I wash yours bit?"

Althea's nostrils flared, her jaw clenched, teeth bit into her bottom lip in frustration. "You can't seriously expect him to just walk free," she huffed. "There has to be consequences for his actions."

"His _actions _were all _reactions," _Cary stated frankly. "It was the behavior of a trouble teen, scared out of his mind that something awful was happening to the girl he loves…something worse than all the pain she'd already suffered due to the _negligence _of the uniformed men and women that were supposed to protect her."

Jary shook her head, eyes narrowing. "So you _do _think he should walk...well, it's not gonna happen."

"According to his Juvenile record, he's currently on probation," Cary told her. "He's a _minor _and he should reprimanded as such….no _prison _time….let him finish the months of juvie he had left before he made parole. Order court-appointed therapy and anger management…some community service. I really don't give a shit how you spin this," Cary clarified, wagging a finger at her. "_Your _people are just as culpable as Kohn was for everything that's happened and I won't hesitate to argue that in court…if I _have _to. It would really be best for everyone involved if that doesn't happen. Give the media a little time to catch their next hot topic, then quietly…do the right thing. _No prison, _Ms. Jary. Not unless you want a couple dozen of your finest _decorated _officers to be in the cell next to him….I don't know about them, but I'm not much for sucking dick."

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

Lindy Crafton was standing at the side of his bed, smiling at the young couple laughing and painting each other's faces with pudding meant for their mouths. It was a mess of chocolate staining their cheeks and noses, Tara and Jax were so wrapped up in each other, it took them a moment to even notice her arrival.

"Well, look who we have here," Nurse Crafton chimed, smiling brightly when both teenagers turned towards her in wide-eyed surprise. "The Ring-Pop fiancées….you took spend an _awful _lot of time in this hospital," the elder woman mused, walking towards them, "And it looks like the young gentleman is the patient this time."

"Um," Tara's cheeks tinted pink as she awkwardly raised her hand, eyes flitting towards the hospital bracelet underneath the dangling charms around her wrist. "Technically, they haven't discharged me yet either….I'm kind of—"

"Not supposed to be in here?" Nurse Crafton scolded playfully, tinkling with quiet laughter as she checked the I.V bags hanging on the hooks aligning the wall next to Jax's bed. "….I reckon the staff should just put you too in the same room…Save whatever poor Nurse has your chart the trouble of tracking you down when one of you goes missing."

Jax frowned at that, pulling Tara in closer to him, arm curling tighter around her waist, kissing her arm when she turned her head to look at him.

"Doc says you're cut off from morphine and any of the other good stuff," Nurse Crafton said, reading his chart. "You've got a pretty nasty concussion, so there's cause for concern with you going to sleep for the next few hours. Percocet is the best I can do for you, Kiddo, so tell me…how bad is the pain on a scale of one to ten?"

Jax and Tara's eyes met in unison, right before he quickly glanced over at his Nurse, blurting out, "_Four."_

Nurse Crafton's lips twisted in amusement, knowing eyes darting between the pretty brunette's worried, guilt-ridden expression, and the brave face Jax had somehow melded into the strain clear in his handsome features with every breath he took. She didn't know if was pride, or him not wanting his girlfriend to worry but she _did _know he was bullshitting her—Big time.

"Scale of one to ten," Nurse Crafton demanded, narrowing her eyes at him.

Jax sighed, lying back as he answered her truthfully. "Maybe…a…. _seven…seven and a half? _But only when I m—"

Tara jumped out of the bed like it was on fire. "_Jax!" _she hissed, glaring at him.

Jax found himself laughing through the pain, wholly amused by Tara's reproachful expression. "I'm alright, Babe," he assured her. "You being here kinda distracts from it, ya know?" Jax held his arms out towards. "Kiss it better, Baby," he joked, winking at her.

Shaking her head at the two of them, Crafton walked out of the room, returning moments later—once again unnoticed, until she addressed the blue-eyed boy struggling to pull his girlfriend back on the bed with him.

"Here you go," the amused Nurse said, handing him a tiny, plastic cup with two little pills in it. Wagging her finger at him, she scolded Jax gently. "You should have said something…just because they've restricted the good stuff doesn't mean you have to suffer _completely. _And between you and me," Nurse Crafton added, glancing at the brunette plopping a straw in the cup of water she was pouring for him, "I might not have a doctorate, but I've never heard of a _girlfriend _taking the place of a painkiller….you make sure he tells someone if he's feeling any discomfort…_snitch _on him if you have to."

"Don't worry, M'am," Jax smirked, shaking his head. "She _will."_

"I believe you," Crafton said, laughing with him. Walking into his bathroom, she emerged, holding a large, pink pan filled with towels and cloths, a large sponge and several bottles of No-rinse, Aloe cleansing soap.

Tara giggled at the horrified expression that crossed Jax's face when she lowered the table next to his bed, sitting the pan on top of it. "Another restriction you might have been too loopy to hear when the doctor told you," Crafton told him. "No showers for the next few—"

"Yeah, I know, I know, I have to bathe like a truck-stop hooker," Jax interjected, shaking his head as he watched the Nurse begin to unfold one of the towel she pulled from the pan. "I can do that myself."

"But why would you _want _to, Jackson?" Tara teased, giggling against her palm. "Getting a sponge bath from a hot nurse is every guy's fantasy isn't it?"

"What?" Crafton brought a hand to her hip, tilting her head side-to-side. "I'm not hot enough to do the trick? I'll have you know, I'm the hottest grandma in town—"

"Nooooo-body's doubting that," Jax replied, blue eyes widening still. He held his hands up in mock-surrender. "I'm just, you know…I'm…I'm _good," _Jax made a show of smelling his armpits. "Yeah," Jax sniffed. "I'm good for now."

Tara shook her head at him, still laughing when she advised the nurse, "Don't worry, I'm sure his mom will be bursting in here any second _demanding _she do the honors."

"Oh is that so?" Crafton smirked. "Sounds like she's a piece of a work…might want to think twice about that _Ring-Pop, _Sweetheart…I have no _idea _how I managed to stay out of jail after I met Henry's mother….well alright then….I'll check back, half an hour before my shift ends….if Momzilla hasn't de-funked her little boy by then, I'll take care of it."

Tara snickered. "Pleaseee," she urged. "Make sure I'm here!"

It wasn't until Nurse Crafton left the room that final time, that Tara noticed the shift in Jax's mood. "What's wrong, Baby?" Tara asked immediately, brushing the table aside to sit on the bed with him.

"It's nothing," Jax lied, reaching for her waist. The smile twitching the corners of his mouth, broke free of the struggle when Tara gave in, allowing him to pull her closer—close as she could be without lying next to him again. "My mind is just all over the place right now."

Tara's answering smile held a knowing gleam, her green eyes softened with understanding as she laced her hand with his. "_Smaller doses?" _Tara prodded gently. His response in the form of a kiss that just missed her lips, landing at the tip of her nose when Tara lowered her head to stare at their joined hands on the bed.

"Yeah, Babe.," Jax agreed, resting his forehead against hers. "...smaller doses."

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

When the private town car rolled into the Teller-Morrow lot, they were already outside waiting for him. Kozik leaned casually against the picnic table, absently flicking the ashes from the lit cigarette between his fingers all over the bench where JT sat patiently. Cary Agos emerged from the back passenger door, pulling a pair of Ray-Bans from the inside pocket of his designer suit, sliding them over squinting brown eyes as he approached them.

Immediately, John Teller stood up, Kozik snuffed out the cigarette—and as if they'd sense his presence telepathically, one by one other SAMCRO members filed out through Club Reapers wide open doors, all them gathering around the tall, thick-bearded man wearing the President's patch.

"So what are we looking at?" JT asked simply.

Cary nodded, respecting the elder man's distaste for preamble. "Kohn's already got three deaths, two attempted murders, about eighty different counts of kidnapping, sexual assault and possession of a shitload of illegal weapons and explosives," the feisty lawyer explained. "Put before a jury, _he's _the monster in this story and Jax is the biker _Prince _that rode in on his Harley and saved the day. FBI and local PD's made way too many mistakes for them to walk away unscathed from this. I made it very clear just how easy it would be to prove the systematic corruption that _allowed _Kohn to get to cause all the damage he has. I don't give a shit how much of a hard ass Tyne Patterson is. If she's smart she'll plead his case out, charge him as a minor and send Jackson back to Juvie for a few months, order anger management and a couple hundred hours of community service. That's the best way for everybody to get out of this clean."

"Well alright, sounds good," Kozik commented, grinning. His smile had plenty of company. Bobby, Tig, Happy, Padraic and all of the Prospects—all of them had matching expressions of relief and happiness.

But Johnathan Teller's face never changed, and neither did Piney's or Chibs who was staring directly at him as the SAMCRO President quietly asked, "_And if she's _not _smart?"_

Cary's smile faltered for the first time, but the self-assurance in his posture never wavered, in fact it seemed to increase. "_If," _Cary stressed, "she decides to do this the hard way, I'll beat her court…and take as many of her people down as I can while I'm doing it."

If there even a modicum of interest in 'sticking it to the cops' the worried father didn't show it. And it was clear in his expression that he also lacked the enthusiasm his club brothers shared regarding the criminal attorney's untiring confidence in his own ability. John Teller knew better than anyone how easily the best laid out plans failed horribly. "My _son," _JT emphasized, citing the singular concern that wouldn't allow him to smile, not even inside. "Where does he land _if _this thing goes South? Worst case scenario."

Cary's smile vanished completely, solemnness bleeding into his features. "Murder one is a little ambitious," He stated simply, "So they'll charge him for second degree. Reckless endangerment, obstructing justice, aggravated assault for every officer he put his hands on, _especially _Timmons…the Agent who died in the explosion. Holding him at gunpoint constitutes as kidnapping as well. They'll probably tack on the illegal handgun possession and if they're really looking to ice the cake, they'll try him and every single one of you for inciting a riot that led to severe injuries to over fifty people, victims _and _officers. The murder charge is obviously the biggest, and they have no less than four agents as witnesses to the shooting. I can't be sure what other charges or how many counts. All I can tell you is that if…._IF _the trial ges South and they try him as an adult? _He's looking at no less than thirty."_

Kozik stepped forward then, eyes narrowing to slits. "Well then I'd suggest you put that Harvard law degree to use and make sure that shit doesn't happen."

Cary merely smirked at the spiky-haired blonde glowering at him. "No worries, _Big brother," _he goaded. "I'll be sure to put my Harvard Law degree to good use. Speaking of which, Grandpa wants to know if you're coming to Lucy's graduation. He thinks it'd be nice for you to see why you should have used your trust-fund to further your education…_instead of trying to snort it all up your nose. _You should come home and make nice…maybe he'll sign it back over to you. Still counting your chips? How many years has it been?_"_

At least ten minutes went by before all of the tall, strapping men of SAMCRO were able to pull the two estranged brothers—the Golden boy and the Agos family black sheep—apart.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

When the Percocet finally kicked in, it was only then Jax realized just how much pain he'd been in, his own threshold—just how much he could take. But then, as Tara sat there in the reclining chair beside him, lighting brushing her thumb along the back of the hand linked with hers he couldn't help wondering if he was getting the wonder-drugs his doctor expressly forbade anyway. He'd been restless ever since his mother left, drained from the fight to get her to comply, to accept that wherever she went, he wasn't going with her.

And now that he had Tara—now that he was _home _all he wanted to do was—

"_Jax you can't go to sleep," _Tara reminded him. Her voice was a low hum, and after going so many heart-wrenching hours without hearing it, just hearing her say anything had a soothing effect that definitely wasn't helping her case.

Tara was here, she was okay—he could finally rest.

"_Jackson!" _Tara hissed. Shaking his shoulder only worked for a second before she gave up on getting him to respond. Eyes snapped shut, Jax could still hear her, he could sense her moving around him, he could feel her leaning over his legs, hear the subtle scrape of the wheels when she pulled the table on other side of his bed closer.

And when she pulled the cap off the plastic pitcher in her hand, dumping the ice water inside of it over his head—he sure as Hell felt _that _shit. The ice rattled, and then his teeth were rattling. "_HOLY SHIT, _that's cold!" Jax gasped, blue eyes adjusting from wide to narrow, as anger replaced his surprise. "What the fuck, Tara?!"

Tara's giggle was infectious, so much so that he found himself joining in with her seconds later, rubbing at the shiver in his shoulders as he did. "How's _that _for bedside manner?"

Jax shook his head at her. "You're going to feel like shit when I get pneumonia on top of everything else," he told her, glancing randomly around the room. "It's like the first week of January and these idiots have the AC cranked up like its July!"

Tara smirked. "Bet you'll stay awake now though."

Jax fixed his lips into a pout, crossed his arms with both hands on his shoulders. "I'm cold, Babe," he whined. "…come warm me up."

Tara smiled, reaching for the towels in the pan on top of the table. "Here," she said, tossing one of the towels at his chest. She used the other one to rub against his hair, massaging his damp, blonde locks, take care to absorb all the water she could before gently using the corner the towel to wipe to chocolate-pudding smudge still on his cheek. "I'm sorry," Tara said, smiling as she patted to towel along his neck and shoulders. "It's just…when I saw LJ like…._that_…it was scary…and I know he had no choice but to put you under for the surgery…but now…he just wants to make sure…I just don't want you slipping into—"

"_I'm fine," _Jax assured her, wiping at the dried pudding on her chin, slapping her playfully in the face with the towel when it was all gone. "But you know….I think I'd be a little better if they gave _you _some Oxy…._woot woot."_

Tara shoved his shoulder. "_Jerk."_

Jax chuckled. "That shit was more entertaining than any of the free cable channels."

Tara rolled her eyes, turning to walk towards the shelf next to the bathroom, pulling a freshly pressed gown from it. Dropping it on his legs, she gently pulled the strings tied together at his shoulders, peeling the wet gown from his body, green eyes narrowed with curiosity at the way his breath caught when she did it, emerald eyes confused by the look in his eyes when they jumped from his chest to meet hers. Was he nervous about how she'd react to seeing all the gauze and medical tape plastered around his side, the black and blue painting his bruised ribs?

If he was, he had definite cause for concern because Tara found herself scared to look away from the undecipherable emotion shining in his eyes, afraid to see the damage she'd caused by not believing him, for letting Joshua Kohn into her life.

"I got it the day after you went missing," Jax admitted quietly.

Tara's bewilderment ceased, her pretty lost their chink when they flitted down to his chest, at last. Tara's breath hitched, her mouth fell open, even wider than her eyes, and her fingers moved of their own volition—gently sliding across his chest, tracing the dark lines of the tattoo inked into his skin. Her name, it was inscribed right over his heart—_her _heart.

_"Jackson," _Tara breathed, absently shaking her head in awe, in disbelief. "…What did you….why—"

Jax placed his hand over hers, the one still fingering the ink on his chest. "I put a name on it, Babe," he explained. "…_The only one that matters."_

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

"Well _shit," _Juan "Juice" Carlos hissed, shaking his head at the documents pulled up his computer screen. "I don't know what your beef is with this guy, but Ethan Zobelle is about as connected as they come where organized crime is concerned. This racist asshole's got the FBI _and _the CIA in his pocket…he must be turning over some really big intel….Seriously, Bro…they let him do whatever the fuck he wants to….make all the drug and gun deals he wants and while he's ratting on all his associates the money pile in his private savings just keeps climbing!"

Padraic and Chibs were leaning over his shoulder, staring hard at the laptop's screen. Piney and JT glanced at each other before the latter asked, "_He's a snitch?"_

Juice nodded, glancing up to look over at the crowd of bikers sitting around the Reaper table in front of him. "A millionaire _rat."_

"Makes sense," Kozik mused, frowning as he fumbled with the carton of cigarettes in his hand, "I wonder if he knew about it."

The "He" in question was Clay, naturally—but it had been an unspoken rule ever since the club (Winston's especially) learned of all their betrayals that neither Gemma _nor _Clay were to be mentioned more than absolutely necessary—and certainly not by name. Saying either was a sure way for Hell to break loose

"Who?" Juice asked casually. Glancing up from the screen when no one answer, he let out a low whistle as his fingers resumed their practiced tap-dance along the keys of his laptop. "…._alrighty then…"_

"We appreciate you helping us out with this," JT voiced, several patched members nodding in agreement.

Piney sat forward, a wry smile twisting his mouth to one side. "So what's the deal with you and your cousin's anyway?" He asked the young Mohawk-rocking Puerto-Rican. "No interest in joining the PCH brotherhood?"

Juice rolled his eyes, shook his head as he continued scrolling down. "Weevil won't let me in," he complained. "Some bullshit promise he made to my mother."

Piney chuckled. "Yeah," he mused. "Guilt-tripping…a mother's specialty."

Juice shrugged. "Plus the guys are always giving me shit because I don't speak Spanish," Juice admitted, shrugging. "But I mean what the Hell do they expect? Most of they parents don't even speak English. They _have _to be bilingual. I'm a Puerto Rican from Queens. I speak better _Yiddish!"_

Bobby walked into the Chapel, holding up the prepaid cellphone in his hand. "_Parada _just called," he announced. "Alvarez reached out last night when I got home. _Leroy, _too!"

"We're real popular right now," Happy growled, shaking his head with a scowl. "No way this shit'll be good for business."

JT smiled. "You set up a meet?"

Bobby shook his head. "_Romeo _did," he corrected. "Says we can't reschedule either….we should probably head out now. Might have time to make a stop in Oakland to touch base with King _purple _on the way back_."_

"Hey, Boss," Tig said, grinning mischievously at JT. "You need me with you? 'Cause if not…I was thinking I'd check in on our other business…"

"Cara-Cara's coming along_ niiicee," _Niko commented from one of several chairs lining the wall behind the Reaper table.

"Diosa too," Jason agreed, making a show of licking his lips. "Nero's a moron for cashing out—"

"Quit running your mouth, Grunt!" Happy growled, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the Hispanic computer geek drinking in every word of the club's business discussion.

Padraic glared over at Bobby. "Y'all handle whatever you need to handle," he said. "I think I'll check on the intel Juice just got for us."

"No you won't," Kozik argued. "We already _told _you, we're handling that—"

"Not. Right _now," _Chibs interrupted, once again reminding everyone of the leather-less young man in the room with them.

When JT stood up, gradually everyone else followed the motion. Looking around the biker chief addressed all the patches in the room with him, hazel eyes touching on each face as he directed them. "Niko and Jason," JT declared, "You're with Tiggy….head over to Cara Cara—"

_"Yessss!" _Tig blurted out, slapping his hand against the table.

"I know Nero _swears _by his sister but I still don't know that we can trust her," JT told him. "….make sure everything is in order…Chibs, Hap, and Bobby, you're with me….._Kozy," _JT directed, noting the glare on Padraic's face. "…._wherever Pat goes _you _go…._this trigger-happy son of a bitch has officially replaced Tig as the pitbull—"

_"Whaaat?" _Tig scrunched his nose up, clearly offended.

"Miles, you're with Opie," JT continued, glancing over at his Godson. "As for everyone? _Church tonight. _Eleven-thirty….make sure your asses are back here on time."

"I guess I'm the bartender for the day," Piney snarked, watching as everyone left the room to head out to their bikes.

_"Opie!" _JT called. The entire time they'd sat there, it had been as if Opie never showed up. The brooding teenagers hadn't said a word, given even his father a second glance. He'd faced his hardened, but otherwise blank expression towards the Chapel's open doors from the moment her entered to the very end when everyone was given their marching orders.

Opie froze in the doorway, slowly turning his head towards them. "_Yeah?" _

"I was hoping you could do me a favor," JT said, walking in stride with the tormented teenagers father as he approached him. "….think you can check in on my son without extending his stay?"

"He's your brother," Piney stressed, fixing his solemn eyes on his son's angry face. "We're _family….._until we're all back on our feet we need to put all this shit aside, Son….And Clay _will _be handled. That asshole is going to pay for what he did. And this beef with you and Jax over Tara—"

_"What about Gemma?" _Opie challenged, glancing between the two men. "Where does that _bitch_ land in all of this? You sent Niko and Tig to watch out for her at St. Thomas….somehow she slipped past them and now she's _missing. _How's that debt going to get settled?"

"Careful, Son," JT warned him. "You're not just talking about _some _Old Lady that broke the rules...you're talking about your best friend's mother—"

"I'm talking about the reason I don't _have _a mother," Opie growled.

Miles chose that moment to step from behind the door he'd been standing, gently placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Come on, Man," Miles encouraged. "I was standing right next to you when they carried Jax out of that Chopper...and when they brought Tara out. _I saw your face, _Bro….your Old man's right…at least make sure they're good before—"

"_Whatever," _Opie barked, brushing past him, "Tara's_ fine_...the Prince is the one that got shot...Let's just go."

"You should be riding _with _him," JT commented, breaking the strained silence between the two of them.

Piney sighed. "Her fa….._Arthur," _the bitter biker amended, "…He hasn't left Tara's side since they brought her to St. Thomas…guess he figures a phone call to his sponsor is good enough since there's no hospital I've ever heard of that serves Bourbon in the cafeteria…."

JT turned towards his best friend then, stretching out the cramp in his knee as he leaned against the table behind him. "Sometimes I wonder if it would have made a difference," JT admitted to him. "….If I ever found out for sure if Thomas was really mine….or _his…_would I have treated him different? Sometimes I think maybe me not getting the test wasn't about….being _noble…_or because I knew I loved my son no matter what…..maybe I was afraid of what it might do to me."

Grunting his displeasure, Piney glared at the pensive expression on John Teller's face. "….Sounds a lot like you're giving him a _pass."_

JT merely smiled at him, shook his head lightly. "Arthur Knowles was a shitty father—"

"He _IS _a shitty father!"

"I'm not excusing anything he's done," JT clarified. "And maybe he _is _a shitty father…maybe that'll never change no matter how much he wants to change…you know the same thing could be same about _you…._or _me…._all it really comes down to is whose eyes you're looking through. Being a parent is just…even when you're doing the best you can….or the best you _think _you can, sometimes shit just doesn't measure up. You got every right being angry with the man. I just don't think you should be so self-righteous about it, is all."

"Yeah?" Piney growled. "Why the _fuck _not?"

"You got no idea how long he's had to deal with the fact that the daughter he raised from an infant was never really his….or that his wife…the love he still mourned with every shot he knocked back was going to leave him for you…that she would have took Tara, too….Arthur's not part of the life, but he knows it, Brutha….and I _know _I don't have to tell you that no matter what there wasn't shit he could do to stop you that wouldn't rub _me _wrong…me and our brothers…Art never stood a chance…but then you didn't either, _Piermont…._she had her hooks in you, too…and when Moira was gone all you had left was a little girl that reminded you of the love you both lost….you _embraced it…._nurtured it, because any pain you felt was the pain of losing her…but for year's all he's ever seen is the lies and betrayal…She _crushed _him, Piney," JT mused, shaking his head. "And I'll tell you something, I can deal with _a lot _of shit, Brutha….my Sgt at Arms running my club into the ground….jumping in bed with my Old lady….my wife and brother trying to _kill _me…and knowing the mastermind is untouchable because Jackson still calls her _Mom…_I can swallow it all….but my _son? Almost _losing Jackson? I barely made it back with Thomas….losing Jax would swallow _me…._"

"I'm _telling _her the truth," Piney declared, blue eyes darkening with the rage laced every word he spoke.

JT nodded, the ghost of smile twitching the corners of his mouth. "And nobody….._nobody _can fault you for that. Tara's _your _daughter, Brutha. And I'm with you no matter what you decide. All the guys are, too….All I'm saying is that you need to remember that Tara is the _only _one that's innocent….and _you're _not the only victim. Moira Knowles, the woman you fell in love with…the woman all three of you loved...she twisted him up, too. You could put a bullet in his brain and I'd help you make the body disappear, no question….but that's not gonna change the facts."

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

"Tig and the rest of the guys were long gone, Piney and JT were still inside—probably discussing whatever had Opie blowing out of the clubhouse like a raging bull—and Miles had rode off right behind him.

You sure you wanna do this, Bro?" Kozik asked, turning to look at the brooding Scotsman sitting on the bike next to him. "I mean, I know what the shit Zobelle and his crew did can't go unanswered but—"

"_So why even ask me that question?" _Padraic growled, glaring over at him.

"This is probably going to piss you off, but right now I really don't a give a shit," Kozik said, climbing off his bike to stand in front of him. "I know Diane _better _than you do. After my second tour, I never went back to Chicago. I came _here…_that's where I met—"

"Spare me the fuckin biography—"

"_She didn't want to tell you shit!" _Kozik snapped, finally losing his patience. "I begged her to tell you the truth all those years ago when she left but she wouldn't budge—"

"That's my biggest fuckin problem with ye," Padraic sneered, climbing off his own bike, stabbing a finger against Kozik's chest. "Instead of playing big brother with _my _Old Lady you shoulda told me what happened—and not seven years later…I should have known _when_ it happened!"

"So you could do _what?" _Kozik challenged, slapping his finger away from his chest. "You were nothing but a _grunt, _and me, I was a _junkie _grunt…neither Tig nor Bobby would have lost any sleep if something _accidentally _happened to us because of Clay. You think your Uncle could have protected you? From all the way in Belfast with his pregnant wife? Diane _knew _you'd never let it go, that you'd get yourself killed and it wouldn't even be about making _her _feel better…it would be your own fuckin pride, and I'm not saying _wrong…_all I'm saying is I _know _her, Pat….and if she told you everything that means she also made you _promise _to let it go…to trust her when she says she'd past it…that she doesn't want you dead or in jail for something that happened almost a decade ago! I look at Jax and Tara and it's like fuckin déjà vu! You _know _you could never look her in the eye and tell her 'No' for anything. _Especially _once she turns on the water works…You want to keep your word? Keep your hands clean of this, s_ay the fuckin word _and we'll handle it. We're your brothers. It's what we do….but you really need to think about how you navigate this…that girl's always gonna love you no matter. It's being able to _trust _you that's the issue. Be smart, man."

Padraic averted his eyes, staring down at the fading tattoo on his forearm, the large, Edwardian 'D' inked along the line where his elbow began, the spiral "E" that the curled towards the pulse line at his wrist. "Di _knew _what I was going to do the second she told me," he mused. "….that promise was nothing but a lullaby to keep her from twisting and turning in her sleep."

Kozik stepped closer, closing the gap between as he gently pressed his fingers against Padraic's chin, turning his head towards the car pulling into the Teller-Morrow lot. "If Diane _knew _she wouldn't be here….and_ you _know _that."_

They both watched as Diane pushed her car door shut, sinking his hands into the front pockets of her scrubs, light eyes facing the ground, veering left to right as she walked towards the clubhouse. When she finally looked up, her eyes met JT's, then Piney—both of whom were walking towards the stands where their bikes were parked. Every degree seemed measured until her eyes were finally angled on the man she'd come to see.

"Hey," Diane muttered, smiling meekly at the two young bikers still standing in front of her as the elder two rode off.

"What's up, _Fidget!"_ Kozik pulled her into a bear hug. "We were just talking about you," the spiky-haired blonde teased, winking at Padraic. Laughing at the deer-in-headlight's expression on the Scotsman's face, he quickly added, "Me and Paddy were wondering if you ever got any new ink. I doubt it since you couldn't keep still for _this_ one," he teased, jumping back just in case slapping his _hand_ away from her breast wasn't punishment enough.

Padraic tilted his head, mouth twisting to one side when he smiled at her. "Hey, Lovey….how are ya?"

Diane pulled at the ends of her ponytail, teeth worrying her bottom lip. "I was actually wondering if we could talk."

Kozik snickered, rolling his eyes towards the sky. "I know what _that _means," he said, pulling his helmet of the handle bars on his Harley.

Diane kicked out at his ankle. "Oh, grow the Hell up, _Her-man."_

"I'm going to Diosa," Kozik goaded, wriggling his eyebrows. "I need to give Ms. Emma Jean a talking to about drunk dialing me every night."

"I'll catch up with you," Padraic replied, waving him off, never once taking his eyes off the woman determined not to meet his gaze for more than a few seconds.

Kozik's smile dropped for a moment, solemnness taking over when he uttered a finally word of advice. "Think about what I said," he stressed. Then he stuck his tongue out at the confused girl between them, tossing a peppermint he'd pulled from his breast-pocket at her face, laughing at her scowl the whole ride towards the exit gates.

"Is everything okay?" Padraic asked finally, after several minutes of them standing there in silence. "Little Grace is—"

"Yeah, No, she's fine," Diane responded, looking down. It took him a while, but after a series one and two word answers to every question he asked her, he finally realized what she'd been staring at all along. Diane was staring at her left hand—the pale, white line where her wedding band used to be.

And when, at last, she met glanced up to meet his eyes again, the pull that never truly died was stronger than it had ever been before. Neither of them stood a chance. They couldn't have stopped what happened next, not even if they wanted to.

And they didn't.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

He turned the steering wheel right, easing his car into the next lane, squinting his eyes against the beam of sunlight pouring in through the windshield as he peered over at the bold white letters on the green sign straight up ahead. "I thought your boy was coming with you," Nero Padilla commented casually, as he made the final turn on the parkway, heading for Oregon.

It wasn't as if Gemma hadn't heard him. No, she simply refused to respond, flicking the ashes from the cigarette in her hand out of the window, olive eyes fixed on the bobble-head Jesus figurine in the center of the dashboard.

"_Gemma," _Nero called, checking his rearview mirror for the proximity of the cars behind him before turning his head all the way to look at her. "What happened with your boy? You said the club was in some deep shit with the Galindo Cartel….your Old man wanted to send his family out of town for a while," Nero made a show of pointing two fingers towards at his temple, gesturing with an imaginary gun, "….said he'd send for you when the dust settles…after he finished taking care of his business."

"There was a change of plans," Gemma replied quietly, tossing the lit cigarette out of the window.

"So, what, JT let his son stay behind?" Nero prodded, raising an eyebrow. "_You _let your son stay behind? Look, I know _all _about the life. I _lived _it for a long time. And those five years I sat in Chino were the first years I ever stopped to think about all the shit I was doing. Then I found I had a son, and from that moment I made a promise to myself and Tomás that I—"

Gemma's head snapped towards him. "What'd you just say?"

"_Tomá_s," Nero replied, grinning with pride. "Rita's father's name. Means _Thomas," _He leaned towards her, smacked his hand against the glove compartment of the dash board, reaching inside—pulling a photo of a little, Hispanic boy with big, brown eyes and the brightest smile Gemma had ever seen on a person bent over, with crutches latched to his arms. "That's my boy," Nero boasted, cheesing at the picture in her hand. "He means everything to me, Gem, the same as you and yours….that's why I can't ignore the fact that something's not right here. I couldn't stomach leaving you stranded, not knowing I would want someone to help my sister if she needed it. But there's a reason I changed my mind last minute, sold my stake in Diosa to SAMCRO and packed my shit to get out of dodge. I know how easy it is to get back into old habit…trying to _impress _the wrong crowd, ya know what I mean? And I got a kid to think about. Can't backtrack"

Gemma smirked. "_Pimp Daddy," _she snarked, folding her arms across her chest.

Nero pulled the car over then, bringing it to a slow stop on the side of the quiet road. Twisting the keys out, he turned his body towards, searched her guarded expression—looking beyond the tough shell she'd wrapped around herself, and all the pain, the hurt crushing any hope of the plastic smile on her face ever being genuine. "I don't need all the details," Nero told her, "And something tells me there's not enough road out on this highway to cover the highlights even. But I need to _know _if I'm about to step in some shit with the club I made a choice to severe ties with….I like you, Gem. But you're not worth anything that'll cause my boy harm. If you can't tell me something…._anything…._I—"

"My old man and his club want me dead," Gemma stated briskly, casting her gaze out through the driver's side window over his shoulder. It was a conscious effort to try to keep her facial expression neutral, to hide the anguish behind what she told him next, but still she failed miserably. Her voice was thick with tears she didn't know she had left when she admitted out loud, "I tried to get him to come….but Jackson wouldn't leave….He chose them."

_He chose HER. _

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

"Look, Man, all I'm saying is I feel really shitty about everything that went down… I mean we were _right_ there and we just let that crazy asshole right out the door…we should of handled him right then and there! And I started to go after him, too. But I wanted to make Tara was good, ya know? Plus he'd already made it over the fence and towards his truck—which surprise, surprise, is the same truck he used to run that football jock over _just _because he was giving Tara a hug or some shit like that. Man, I just wish I—"

_"Hey," _Jax interrupted, holding a hand up to the rambling Prospect standing at the foot of his bed. The I.V taped to the back of is hand tickling his sides through the slit of his hospital gown when he made a gesture for silence. "It's all good, Bro," Jax assured him, smiling, offering him a nod of respect, "I'm just happy you guys showed up when you did. And I appreciate you being there for her."

"You _should _appreciate it," Opie sneered, scowling at him from the arm of the couch where he'd sat. "You should appreciate us both for doing what _you _should have been doing."

And there it was.

The reason Eric Miles had been talking a mile a minute the second they entered Jax's private hospital room. The tension was thick enough to cut through with a knife. The two best friends—the secret brother and valiant boyfriend of Tara Knowles looked ready to lunge at each other. And with every the second that past, it only confused Eric more as to whether the two of them would hug or throw punches.

"You mean what I _was _doing when you walked away from me," Jax retorted, his lip curling up, "When you walked away from _her."_

"So what is Tara into?" Miles blurted out, face turning red when two pairs of eyes snapped towards him. "Uh, what I meant was," Miles stuttered, scratching at his neck, "I mean, what would she want from the gift shop? Does she like bears or, or is she allergic to any flowers? Or nuts? 'Cause those fresh baked cookies they got in there look pretty—"

"Get her some brownies," Jax suggested, blue eyes still fixed on his best friend's angry expression. "She loves them…_especially _the ones with nuts… and if they're macadamia, you could ask her to marry you right and she'd say yes," Jax met the amusement in Miles' eyes then, the slightest hint of a threat gleaming in otherwise friendly, blue eyes when he added, "Careful though…. You see what I did to the last guy that got too close."

Miles chuckled. "Yeah," he agreed, nodding his respect, "and the one before him." Jax scowled, choosing to dismiss him, putting an end to the conversation that had somehow led to the mention of Jason simply by looking away.

"Where room is Tara in?" Miles asked, already walking backwards, towards the door.

"Across the Hall, room two, one-fourteen," Jax replied. "She should have finished up her interview with that Detective by now."

Jax heard, rather than saw Miles leave. His eyes were fixed on the boy he grew up with, his best pal, the one he could always count on whenever he really need someone—the loyal friend who used to treat the girl they both the same way.

"He has a thing for her," Jax commented. "You good with your new _brother _having wet dreams about Tara? I guess I'm not good enough because I'm not wearing a Kutte….huh."

"You must be really good about yourself," Opie sneered, smirking at him. "Proving Jason and everybody who thinks that when push comes to blood, you don't have the balls to handle your business. I bet Tig'll stop harping every time Bobby tells us he still believes you'll be at the head of the table someday."

"Is that why you hate me, Ope?" Jax asked, eyesbrows rising. "You think I'm going to wake up one day and try to take the thing you want so bad? That I won't even have to work hard? That I don't have anything to prove while you bend over backwards to show your _Daddy _you've got what it takes? Jesus Christ, Ope….and you said _I _have daddy's issues."

"It's your _mommy _issue that's rubbing me wrong, _Brother," _Opie seethed, nostrils flaring. "Where the Hell is Gemma? Shouldn't she be giving you a sponge bath right now? You should give her a call. Tell her that SAMCRO—her _family _have some shit they need to work—"

"Gemma's gone, Bro." Jax smiled as he thought about her, and for the very first time since she left. He wasn't happy she was gone. He was happy to get confirmation that she'd made it out. But victory was bittersweet, more bitter than sweet—and his faltering smile lasted far longer than the sense of relief as he watched his best friend's expression darken more than he'd ever thought possible. "She's not coming back," Jax told him. "And if she really loves me she won't even look over her shoulder, waiting for me to come after her. I let her go, Ope. I had to make a choice, to stay or go with her and I chose to _stay. _I need to be with my family—"

Opie scoffed. "Oh, so _now _we're your family again," he snarked. "I guess that makes sense since your Old man is the head of the family and your other family won't be around much longer once we find her—"

"You're _angry," _Jax interrupted, voice raising an octave. "And I get it, Bro. I understand….but I've been where you are right now more times than I could count and it was always you and Tara that brought me back from it. I _know _what rage feels like. You think you're seeing shit clearly but you're not. There's no logic in it. You're just reacting and that's some real scary shit. I didn't just send my mom away for me—I did it for _you. _I did it for my brother because I know if she was here right now you'd do something you'll end up regretting later…that _Piney _would regret doing later. The kinda shit we'd never get past."

Opie smirked. "I guess we switched roles then, Huh?"

"You didn't even ask about her," Jax accused him, "Before yesterday you wouldn't have even come to see me first and you know it. I could have had my skull cracked open and you'd still be at nurse's station asking what room _Tara Knowles _is in….and that was before you knew she was your sister…but it's different now, right?" Jax nodded, disappointment clear in his handsome features. "She's not just the sister you never knew about….she's your Old man's love child….the reason your mother ran off and cut a deal….and I guess Gemma's to blame, too…she must have put the gun in Clay's hand—"

"No, she showed him where to aim it!" Opie snapped.

"My mom _loved _your mom and you know it," Jax bit back. "She would have done everything she could to s—"

"But that's Gemma's specialty isn't it, Bro?" Opie shook his head, chuckling. "The matriarch always does everything in power to make sure things turn out the way _she _wants them to…and when shit blows up in her face, somehow she's the _only _person that isn't bleeding on the floor…._she tried to kill your father—"_

"I know—"

"_And you're still defending her?!" _Opie barked.

"I'm not defending anything," Jax yelled. "I'm telling you, you need to open your fuckin eyes and stop being JUST like her! Seeing only what you want to see and nothing else. _That's _her specialty, Opie. And I guess I must have picked it up over the years. I am her son after all. But you know what, Opie? You're _your _father's son, too. You're a fuckin hypocrite—"

Opie pushed off the couch, towering off him as he pointed a finger in his face. "You've got a lot of fuckin nerve—"

"Were you even going to check on her? See if she's okay?" Jax challenged. "You told me to stay the fuck away from her but that's not happening and you knew that before now…so what? You think the fact that she has me give you a pass? You think she won't notice? You really think Tara won't realize that you're blaming _her _for shit she had no control of? You want distance? From _everyone? _That's fine. But it would seem to me that if you gave a shit about the girl you tried to rip off my goddamn head over—the girl you haven't seen since New Year's Eve when _your _club—"

_"It's your father's MC!" _Opie screamed. "What the fuck do you mean MY—"

"SPONSOR!" Jax bellowed. "Not the club, asshole. YOUR SPONSOR! Clay is the reason you lost your mom. The man who gave you the Kutte on your back—went against _your _Old man's wishing to give it to you, he had Tara KIDNAPPED and Tara KNOWS! And gossip spreads like wildfire in this town so if she doesn't know, eventually she'll find out about Mary and she's going to realize why you're ignoring her—"

"Why is it okay for EVERYONE to be angry but me?!" Opie slapped a hand against his chest. "I'm sick of giving everybody a pass for all the fucked up things they do, and _YOU…._you're just. Like. Her."

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

Jackson Teller may have had to give up the good stuff, but David Hale did not. 'Davey boy' was high as a kite, morphine streaming into his veins, blocking out all the pain.

Well most of it.

"You're an idiot," Tara scolded, lightly mushing his forehead, sitting down on the edge of his bed. "You could have died, David…and that would have crushed me knowing that I was the cause—"

"None of what happened was any of your fault," David interrupted, shaking his head.

Tara smirked, eyes flitting down to the bracelet on her wrists. "You sound like Jax," she remarked.

"Yeah, well for once I actually agree with him on something," David replied, grinning at her. "Take it from _both _the guys that were willing to take a bullet for you. It's _not _your fault, Tara. And….well even if it was your fault—which it _isn't—"_

"Right—"

"It doesn't matter," David assured, reaching to place his hand over hers. He looked down, but his finger never stopped brushing against the back of her hand, and with every back and forth the Gold 'J' charm dangling from her wrist shifted. "…._you're worth it."_

Tara forced herself to pull her hand from underneath his slowly. And the meeting of their eyes was even more languid—her emerald filled with guilt and anxiety, while his were filled with something he'd told her he was beyond. "David—"

"This is messed up, Tara," David stammered, before she could gather her thoughts. "I know it is….and I don't expect you to feel…any different just because…and I know I said I was over it…and I _swear _to God I thought I was…but when I saw that guy and what he was doing to you…holding a gun to your head….just the thought of something—_anything _happening to you…I couldn't just stand there, I had to do something—so I did, and now…everything's changed Tara…or maybe it hasn't and that's the problem, it never changed…_I'm still in love with you."_

Tara did something even she didn't expect.

She smiled at him.

Tara's smile was brighter than the shine in her eyes from tears threatening to drop at any second. Her bottom lip quivered, it matched the slight tremor in her fingers when she reached for him, when she gently brushed her knuckles across his cheek. "I am _sooo _happy you're okay," Tara told him. "When they brought you out to ambulance I didn't think you were going to make it and I was so scared….if you died I would have been _miserable…_ but you didn't…you're _okay…._and right now…_God, _David….I really wish I could give you what you want….part of me wants it so badly because I know you deserve and not because you tried to protect me…but because of who you are…you deserve to be happy…and if I knew how to make you happy I would, but I can't….the only thing I can do is be honest with you…tell you truth instead of running from it like before….instead of running _with _you like before…I'm in—"

"I know_," _David told her, shaking his head. "I already know what you're going to say, so you don't have to—"

"_I'm in love with Jackson Teller," _Tara confessed, smiling through her tears. "I'm in love with the guy who hates you for no fuckin reason," she said, laughing, swiping a hand across her face. "But here's the real truth, and if you repeat, I'll deny until I die…" Tara leaned in closer to him, face inches away from his, her voice barely above a whisper when she admitted, "….but sometimes I _really _wish I didn't….and its guy like you….you're the reason why."

David shook his head, smiling. "I'm a little lost here, Tara. You telling me I have a shot?"

Tara laughed outright then, rolled her eyes at him even. "No, David," she answered. "I'm tell you, you'd be an idiot to even _think _you have a chance. The short-tempered asshole…the spoiled biker Prince you've seen all these years….and the raging bitch that snapped at anyone who wasn't a teacher or her next door neighbor…that's us apart, David…And yeah, maybe I'm an idiot for believing this but….I don't think we know who we really are until we're connected to someone else…the _right _someone… and as fucked up as we are, we're living proof that sometimes two wrongs really do make a right. We're just better human beings when we're with the person we're supposed to be with…or at least we _try _to be."

They both turned their heads towards the jangling handle to David's hospital room door. After several seconds, Stephanie Eglee was finally able to open the door with half the St. Thomas gift shop's inventory in her arms.

"Oh _good, _you're up!" Stephanie chimed, glancing over at the brunette sliding off her boyfriend's bed. "Hey, Tar—"

Stephanie dropped one basket, tripped over the string of one of the dozen balloons floating above her head bending forward to get it. Tara barely caught her in time, then knelt down, wincing at the soreness of her ribs when she helped her pick up the gift shop swag all over the floor while David watched, chuckling with amusement that had quickly replaced the guilty expression on his face when Stephanie first walked—a look the clumsy blonde had missed completely.

"Hey, Tara!" Stephanie said again, moving to give her a hug. "Oh my God, are you okay? How's Jackson doing? I been meaning to find out what room he's in. It's like a circus around here. Half my classmates are in the hospital. First Lowell, then Pearson and now—"

"But everybody's okay," David stressed, glancing at Tara. He didn't miss the gult in _her _expression. "It all worked out."

"Right," Tara glanced between them, then averted the concern in their eyes, staring after the exit over Stephanie's shoulder. "My _nurse _probably wants to hold me captive. She probably would have screamed at me for leaving my room but I think they're all scared of me for some reason…like they think I'm going to attack them or something. Anyway…I'll leave you two…_lovebirds," _Tara said, watching as Stephanie leaned down to kiss David, as David curled his arm around her waist when she did it, "…I'll see you guys later….and thanks again, David…for everything."

"Any time," David said, smiling as she pulled the door open.

"It's kind of hard to stay mad at you for being an idiot and getting yourself shot," Stephanie remarked. "….of course I _would _fall in love with a guy who has a hero complex….I tell you something though, if I ever see you _looking _at a police badge…."

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

"I wish you never would have fuckin told me," Opie snapped, storming past her. They were his parting words when he followed Jax's line of vision, when he yanked the curtain back to see who wore the mystery shoes peeking out from underneath it, to see who'd been listening in on their argument.

Of course once it realized it was here, Opie didn't give a shit for how long, or how much she heard. All he wanted was to be as far away from the two people he loved—the only two that were infamous for hurting more than they helped.

Then Sarah Hale was sitting in the chair, next to his bed. Sarah's legs were crossed, one on top of the other as she stared over at the handsome, blue eyed boy sizing her up from his hospital bed—trying to figure out the answer to all the questions swirling in his brain without putting his voice to use.

"What are you doing here, Sarah?" Jax asked finally. "You're supposed to be—"

"Gone," Sarah finished for him, nodding. "No matter how many times I say I'm done….no matter how many times I think it's over, I always end up right back here…even though I know you don't want me here."

Jax sighed, shook his head—and she didn't know if it was at her or himself, but Sarah smiled at him anyway.

"It's like no matter what you said, no matter what you did to me, no matter how obvious it was who you really cared about, I could never quit you," Sarah reflected. "I know it might have seemed like some kind of bullshit female rivalry but it wasn't….it wasn't about competing with my best friend, I never _wanted _that…I love Tara….but I loved you, too Jax…so much…and as fucked up as it is I probably always will…even though I know you won't feel the same way I do."

Jax scrubbed a hand across his face, softening his tone, made it as gentle as he could. "Darlin, I _never _felt the same way you did…and look, I'm sorry if I fucked with your head or whatever…but it's not like I was trying to. That's _your _M.O. What you did to Opie was fucked up…I never tried with you, and this is going to sound really shitty but I don't think I've ever had to try at all…and I didn't think I had to…I thought we wanted the same thing. You're the one that _lied…_the one that—"

"I know," Sarah admitted, nodding her head. "I didn't want to accept…just like _him—"_

"Your brother sh—"

"I'm not talking about David," Sarah blurted out, honey-blonde curls bouncing as she shook her head. "…I'm talking about that guy you killed…the guy that you went away to save Tara…to save our girl. I never seen crazy up close before….not like that, not like the way _he _was…but with everything that's happened I can't ignore how alike we are—"

"Aw, stop being so fuckin dramatic," Jax waved her off, rolling his eyes. "You're a scheming bitch ninety percent of the time. That doesn't make you a fuckin psychopath."

Sarah shrugged, sad grey eyes flitting down towards his bed. "Maybe not," she replied. "….but love can make you do crazy shit…and at this point I've done everything except hold you at gunpoint to get you to say you love me back…I don't want to be _him _Jax—"

"You're not a psyc—"

"Tara could have gotten out on her own you know," Sarah told him. "First chance I got, I told her about the panic room my father built…even Jake didn't know about it…that's the part the media hasn't picked up on…they think _you're _the conquering hero…and yeah, I guess you are…you're _her _hero, but she's everyone else's….none of you saw when me and Jake ran off with her…heard when he told us bombs were wired to explode if anyone went near the exits…none of you know the only reason she didn't make it out on her own is because that Kohn threatened to kill everyone if she didn't come back…"

"_Oh my God."_

Sarah nodded in agreement. "Tara's greatest gift is also her biggest flaw, Jax…and you and I know it better than anyone…she's always puts everyone first…_everyone _no matter how much they don't deserve it…or even if she doesn't owe them a damn thing…I've exploited the Hell out of that shit ever since I figured it out…and when I went by her room to see her….all she did was hug me and tell me how happy she was I made it out okay…_You _put her first…you look out for her the way I should have been when I was tormenting her because the guy I loved since I was six loved her instead of me….the same way Opie's—"

_"Jesus Christ, Sarah—"_

Sarah's grin spread wider at his outburst. "Relax, Prince," she advised him, standing up. "I won't be around long enough to spread secrets. And done fuckin with people's lives just so I don't have to make sense of my own. I just wanted to say goodbye….to both of you."

Jax nodded, eyes softening as he smiled up at the girl stepping towards him. Sarah slide onto the edge of his bed, wrapping her arms around his neck, smiling against his shoulder when she slowly, very slowly felt his arm circle her waist. "Take care of yourself, Sarah," Jax said against her ear.

When she pulled back Jax tilted his chin up to kiss her forehead—and met her lips instead when Sarah shifted, nails lightly digging into his cheek as she gripped his face, smashing her lips against his.

Sarah pulled her lips from his with a single _pop, _slid of his bed to stand—laughter in her eyes, and then in her voice as she watched Jackson Teller try his hardest to replace the panty-dropping, cocky ass 'all the ladies love me' smile on his face with a look of disapproval, one that his girlfriend—or _any _girlfriend for that matter, would expect.

What was he supposed to do, slap her? Tell Tara so she could do the honors?

Neither option rang true to _any _guy, let alone the Prince of Charming. So Jax did just what she'd expected. He smirked and shook his head at her.

And Sarah winked at him. "Just one for the road," she teased, sliding the aviator shades tucked at the crown of her head down over the mischief swirling in the greys of her eyes. "You take care, too….._Darlin."  
_

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* * *

He'd sat on his bike, staring up at the hospital for nearly an hour, gathering his thoughts before he'd finally made his way into the lobby. Then, faster than his absent-mind realized he was on her floor, standing just outside Tara's door—watching them.

Piney Winston watched the through the narrow, rectangular glass of her hospital room door—chest tightening more and more every time Tara smiled at the man on couch pulled up next to her bed, every time he'd follow Arthur Knowles' eyes, drink in the genuine joy and excitement he could feel even from way out in the hallway every time Jackson, his Godson, high-fived him, every time he grinned and smirked at the man he would have probably shot if Opie hadn't snitched on him that one time when they were twelve and Tara came

There was only a small part of him that felt like shit for wishing he hadn't chased after twelve year old Jax and stopped him from shooting the guy who hurt the girl that "_wasn't his girlfriend!"_

Arthur was doing everything right—he was _being _everything he should have been all along, and Tara accepted it.

She more than accepted _him._

She still loved him anyway, she still forgave everything like it never happened….because he was her father.

Only he _wasn't._

"_Arthur was right," _Diane mused, smiling when the tall, outlaw flinched in surprise at her sudden appearance behind him. "You _know…_don't you?"

Piney's eyes narrowed, and for the first time Diane Knowles felt the heat of his glare, barely contained anger that he'd never directed at her before. "I think the better question is how long _you've _been lying to me. Or how my own son knew about his sister before—"

"_Don't," _Diane urged, glancing towards the closer room door when his voice threatened to rise. She shook her head, pleading with rounded eyes. "I know you think you're doing the right thing but you're not…don't do this to her."

"You mean don't do this to _you _and your brother," Piney hissed through her teeth.

Diane pressed a hand to her chest, palm right over her heart. "That girl is the strongest person I've ever met," she told him. "…she's had to deal with so much her whole life, and all of it was because of us….that means _you, _too Piney…and yeah, Art might have done the most damage…or maybe it was her mother for starting all this…I don't want to do this…I don't want to debate about who's done more wrong…all I care about…all _any _of us should care about is Tara being happy," Diane pointed towards the room. "She's happy now…I'm not saying she doesn't still have a lot shit to sort through but she's working through it….and every day will get a little bit easier, if we _let _it….don't put this on her, Piney—"

"What you're asking me to do isn't fair," Piney argued. "I'm your brother, Diane. I'm not willing to stand by and let some other man raise _my _daughter. It's not happening!"

"The same way Mary wasn't going anywhere with _your _son, right?" Diane sighed. "Look, Piney…I'll admit it, I was wrong about Jax," she told him smiling. "He's _different…._he's not like you or Pat…he's going in another direction, or at least he's _trying _to…And Gracie's right…he's smarter than he thinks he is…he's willing to try a different path than the one that took so much away from _all _of us…a path that could take even more away from _her…._even at sixteen year's old…and no matter how many tantrum's he's thrown about it…he's willing to put—"

"You're talking to me about some first love bullshit, when _I'm _here to talk about—"

_"—the daughter Moira never told you about," _Diane argued gently, eyebrow rising. "Why do you think that is, Piney? Could it maybe be for the same reason Mary was willing to cut a deal so she could take Opie with her? She loved you just as much as you loved her…more than she _ever _loved my brother, but she loved _you…._she loved _you, _Piney, not your club….she _hated _it….she was afraid of what could happen to her child if she was a part of the life, and that's why you agreed to leave with her even though you never got a chance." Diane raised her hands, slapping down at her sides. "Look where you are now, Piney. _Take a good look. _I'm not blaming you for any of it. I can't blame you for what Clay did to Tara any more than I can blame Padraic for what happened to me…but there is only _one _common denominator here, and it's the patch that both of you would die sooner than you'd take it off….even for the women you love more than anything. Tara's not going anywhere, Piney. And she loves you _and _Opie. You're already her family. And my big brother will probably hate me for saying this but….if she had to choose between you and us? Deep down I know in my heart she'd choose you…but she'd hate _herself _for it...you've both seen what hate and anger does to a person…you've seen right next door to you for the last seven years...why would you risk it? Why would you risk _her? _Just so she knows that you are by blood, what you've been for her all along? Is this _even_ about her at all? _Or is it about _you?_"_

He'd seen her at the clubhouse. Piney knew who she came to see before she'd stopped walking, stood right in front of him. She was there to see the man whose name was on her chest. The man that was horrible, yet he _knew _she hand't shown up just say 'Hello'.

_"You're a hypocrite," _Piney accused, shaking his head at the auburn haired nurse gazing expectantly at him.

But Diane didn't refute it, not at all, she didn't bother denying the charge.

"I _am," _Diane admitted, turning to walk off when the pager on her waist beeped, "But that doesn't mean I'm not right."

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* * *

One by one, they entered the room, rounding the long, Oak-wood table until all the seats were filled, until Tig, who was the last to walk in—who was the designated sweeper for the room finally pushed in the antenna to the device they always used to detect wire taps.

Kozik was firs to break the silence, the first of all the members staring at the man sitting at the head of the table, hands folded into a tent in front of the gavel. "So what's the verdict?"

Johnathan Teller smiled, relief clear in his eyes as he looked around the room at all his brothers—his family.

"All the shit we've had to deal with these past few days," JT said, "No way in Hell I'd _wish _for any of it to happen….but as it turns out, there's a silver lining in all the chaos that the man I was foolish enough to let hold my gavel cause….he gave us an out sooner than even I expected….everything that happened, every news report that made the news and the papers….we've been given a _get out of cartel free card," _the SAMCRO President told him, grinning. "It's the same shit with Kings…Irish don't want anything to do with us….according to Galen…_and _Galindo SAMCRO is under a fuckin microscope…our organization has way too many eyes and if we get popped for anything, they're not going down with us…Leroy said more of the same…and Nero already cashed in his chips…he bought the farm," JT chuckled, shaking his head, "and I do mean that _literally…_he bought that ranch he was telling us about…I'm guessing the next time we'll see him is when we take a trip to Palo Alto."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm happy we're finally free of the Cartel," Tig replied, shoulders rising. "But what about guns? Without it porn and pussy is all we've got left and I don't see how we're all gonna break even. I mean it's not like we'll ever run that Hefner asshole out of business."

"There's a couple other business ventures we've been working on," Bobby told him—told everyone. "I hear the Camden's are looking to unload the Camelot….according to his daughter, her father was the only one still holding on to the dream of them becoming the Hilton's…I think we might have an opportunity."

"We'll have _many," _JT stressed. "And we'll be clear of all the shit that's been killing us….no recourse….no _war…._I set a meet with Henry Lin, Leroy and Alvarez for tomorrow afternoon…I agreed to play peacekeeper for a little while…make sure everybody's playing nice…we'll be getting a couple vigs tossed our way for that as well…for our…_arbitration _services." Everyone chuckled along with him—well, almost everyone. "This is first time in the history of this organization that our problem solved itself….with no bloodshed."

_"Aye,"_ Padraic nodded, blue-green eyes hard. "But now that we've got all our business in order….all of the shitteee that's right in front of us…"

"I think it's _time _for a little bloodshed," Happy growled, nodding in agreement with the young Scotsman's implication. "We still got a few debts to settle….starting with that snake _Lowell."_

JT's smile vanished then, his mouth set in a grim line. "Look, I know some of you weren't happy about my decision," he told them, touching on each disapproving face, "…and I get it…if any of you were sitting in place, I would probably feel the same way….but I've seen what it's like for a son to lose his father….to…to _think _he lost him….and Junior's a good kid….and even in spite of what he did, his Old man's a good father…"

"I just don't believe he'll go through with it," Kozik stated frankly.

"He doesn't have a choice," Happy growled, glaring at the outspoken blonde. "We already told him the alternative…it's the same shit he should be getting anyway…._dead…._like _a lot."_

"Calavarez are all taken care of," Bobby commented. "And Zobelle's got that church summit in the next town over, coming up next month...that should be our final account. Once we settle that debt, we can get back to business as as usual."

"What about _Gemma?" _Opie spoke out, drawing eyes from all around the room to where he sat along the wall with all the other Prospects. "What about _that _account?"

Piney cleared his throat, disrupting the strained silence. "Actually, there is one thing I need to clarify," the ruggedly handsome biker said, sitting forward. "_Tara," _he said, glancing up at his son. "….that whole scene that played out in this room the other day…that shit stays _in here…._I don't want anybody in town, let alone any other charter in my family's business….and that means talking to Tara, too…that's between _me…._and Opie."

"Of course—"

"—that goes without saying—"

"Whatever you need, V.P—"

Kozik, Chibs and Bobby nodded in agreement.

"I'll shoot any of you motherfuckers if I even _think_ you're running you're running your mouth like some sweet butt _bitch_," Happy barked, turning his murderous glare towards the row of prospects sitting behind them.

Everyone acknowledged his request, acquiescing one way or another.

The man sitting right next to him didn't say a word, but JT's hand clapping on his shoulder, him choosing that moment to slam the gavel down against the table was enough.

"Someone should probably let Jackie-boy know," Chibs suggested—everyone but Opie nodding in agreement.

"Y'all don't have to worry about Jax," Opie said, standing alone, the first and only headed for the door. "He's a secret Queen just like his mother…learned how to lie from the best," the angry teenager griped, "….and he's know a Hell of a lot longer than I did."

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* * *

Piney Winston was right—she was a hypocrite.

Diane felt like the biggest hypocrite in the world. She'd lectured him, scolded him for wanting to do something that would hurt Tara, and all the while knowing what she was about to do was even worse.

Standing in an elevator next to Duncan made it a little easier. It was easier to ignore her own self-loathing when she could put all her focus on hating the man that forced her hand, and not for the first time. And yet, guilt still panged in her chest when she caught herself smiling at the mother cooing her newborn baby boy to sleep on the way up, when she find herself laughing with the woman teasing her husband for getting clunked on the head by their frustrated two-year old girl who wanted the lollipop they promised her _before _she got her shots. As Diane glanced around the Oceanside Wellness waiting, Duncan watched her closely the entire stride to the front desk where he signed them both while she fixated on the playing peekaboo with the teething six month old in the stroller next to her.

"That'll be you in a few months," Duncan commented, unable to help himself after five minutes of her just standing there watching. Diane's eyes snapped towards him, then followed his own line of vision towards the couple with the fussy toddler, the mother tying the little girls shoe laces while she sat on her father's lap, sucking on the lollipop they'd caved and gave her. "That could be _us," _Duncan said, stepping closer, slowly his arm around her waist from behind, hand resting on her stomach. When she didn't shove him away, he stepped in closer still, his breath tickling her ear as he leaned down to kiss her shoulder. "You're going to be such an amazing mother, Dee," he told her. "…and I don't care how long it takes you...and it doesn't matter what the outcome is with your brother….this child is a miracle…he or she is _our _miracle and our baby's worth it…I know you can't see it right—"

_"I fucked Padraic," _Diane said, turning her head to smile up at him. And she enjoyed the horrified expression on his face too much not to turn all the way around to face him. "Have you ever seen a woman _squirt? _And I don't mean in a porn flick, I'm talking about up close and personal, have you ever seen it? Pat has," Diane taunted, placing a hand against the tattoo of his name, "_over and over…._I was always disappointed _you _couldn't make me cum that hard. But hey, that's what all those billions of dollars are for…_compensation."_

Duncan Kane nearly put the infamous Jackson Teller to shame.

Only nearly, though.

Of course the fire in his eyes, and the way his nostrils were flaring as he stepped closer, leaning down towards the smug expression on her face—it was enough to garner more than a few nervous glances, even if they couldn't hear it when he whispered, "_I guess you didn't kick your biker fetish after all...if I'm honest, I'm surprised it took this long…but try to remember, Baby…all of my _billions _of dollars can buy just about _anything…._I don't have to wear a leather jacket to make sure they never find his body."_

"DIANE KANE?"

"It's _Knowles," _Diane answered, nodding briefly at the Nurse calling for her them to come to the back office. Looking up at a glowering Duncan, she snickered. "It's called a _Kutte," _she corrected him, walking off. "…_Jackass."_

"Swear jar!" The six-year kid they walked past along the way hissed, turning his wide eyes on the angry couple storming past him.

"Good…_morning?" _Dr. Addison Montgomery eyed the hardened expressions nervously, laughing it off when war of the Kanes ceased to exist and both her new patient and her husband smiled at her—Duncan wordlessly helping his wife up on to the exam chair.

"Alright then," Dr. Montgomery warned, squeezing the gel onto her gloved hands while Diane held her shirt up. "This is going to feel a little cold."

"No worries, Doc," Duncan remarked. "…_Queen Elsa_ won't feel a thing."

Addison laughed. "My goddaughter _loves _that movie!"

Diane glared up at her husband, the doctor staring at the monitor nonethewiser until, "Yeah, well apparently so does his _secret love child."_

The red tinting Duncan's cheeks was a blend of anger _and _embarrassment then.

Advantage, Diane.

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* * *

"Make sure you save the date of the next appointment in your phone," Diane said, stepping in front of him to get out of the elevator first. It was surprising how difficult it was for him to keep up with her despite his height advantage and the high-heeled boots clicking away on her feet as she speed-walked through the parking lot.

"Diane—wait—could you just—COULD YOU STOP WALKING PLEASE?!" Diane shouted, finally losing patience. Diane stopped only once she'd reached her destination, the answer to the question he'd been asking himself when she was texting away on her phone while Addison explain the unique risks to her pregnancy, confirming that they weren't out of the woods just as Diane suspected.

By the time Dr. Montgmery finished explaining what Diane was only half-listening to, he'd barely had time to apologize for their abnormal behavior before Diane was damn-near jamming the close button in the elevator to keep him from catching it in time.

He did, of course.

And now he had the pleasure of seeing her accept the helmet Padraic Telford held out to her from the Harley resting comfortably between his thighs.

"You've gotta be shitting me with this," Duncan brought a hand to rest on his head, dropped that same arm down, against his side seconds later. "You know what, Dee? You want a divorce? You _really _want to walk away from our marriage?"

"I would have figured that out _before _she took the ring off," Padraic interjected.

Duncan didn't even acknowledge his words, nor did he look at him. His eyes were on her face, fixating on the split second where he saw something other than hate, the emotion that she'd shuttered before he could see it good.

"Is this really about me telling your brother the truth?" Duncan challenged. "Or is it about you making up for the seven years you lost with the guy who couldn't even be bothered to come after you? You should really think about that, Diane. Clay Morrow might be, but I'm _nobody's _asshole."

Padraic slid off his bike, stepping forward to squint his eyes at him. "Clay?" he questioned, glancing between Diane and Duncan both. "What the Hell do you know about _Clay?"_

"I know I wouldn't lose any sleep if Diane had her Uncle swap him for _you," _Duncan sneered. "Oh and since we're here talking, let me be clear...you can call her your old lady all you want but that tattoo on her chest didn't mean shit when I married her and doesn't mean shit now. Until she signs on the dotted line, she's _MY _wife"_—_Diane flinched, eyes widening, mouth opening with an audible gasp when her husband drew his arm back and punched the leather-clad biker standing next to her hard enough to knock him backwards, send him falling into his bike.

But Padraic was back on his feet like it'd never happened, charging towards him. And when the startled woman between refused to get out of the way, leaving them no choice but to hurt her in the process, Padraic sought a different angle.

"And that's what I think about you fuckin her," Duncan snapped. "…Scottish prick—"

"PADRAIC, NO!" Diane curled her hands around his arm to stop him from pulling the gun tucked inside his kutte. "What are you, CRAZY? _There's cameras in here_!" Diane shrieked, pointing towards the surveillance cameras aligning the walls of the parking garage.

Duncan held his phone up to Diane, smiling as he pressed the keys, turning to walk away. "I'm saving the appointment date in my phone right now. See you there…."

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* * *

*** ~ ^ TWO WEEKS LATER ^ ~ * TWO WEEKS LATER * ^ ~ TWO WEEKS LATER *~ **

* * *

Tara never stood a chance. But then again, neither did they. Arthur and Diane both tag-teamed her—bullied her into agreeing to see a psychiatrist. Diane got her Chastity's aunt, her guidance counselor Mrs. Palmer on board, and Tara still couldn't quite put her finger on how—but some way, Arthur convinced Jax to be join "Team _Tara needs therapy"._

But in the end, the joke was really on all of them.

Dr. Violet Turner didn't get shit out of other than her life-long dream to be a surgeon. Oh, and of course a rather offensive story about how _she _used to want to be a psychiatrist until she read One flew over the cuckoo's nest and realized that psychotherapy was nothing but psycho-babble bullshit.

Tara was still pondering how her awkward father had managed convinced her boyfriend to sell her out when she'd reached his bedroom.

Her hand was outstretched, fingers dangling towards the door to push it open when she caught a glimpse into the room through the crack.

And it was as if all those promises she'd silently made to herself and to Jax went straight out the window when she saw Wendy Case sitting on the edge of his bed, with her hand rubbing against his naked chest.

Tara forgot all about his tattoo, and the charm bracelet on her wrist when he saw that shit. But unlike before, she didn't have any vodka to drink or a bar to dance on top of. So Tara settle for storming into the room, and throwing a tantrum that would have made Donatella Lewis blush. Wendy (barely) escaped unscathed, offering her one final apology before heeding Jax's words to leave before she ended up on bedrest.

It took him standing up, the sheets falling off his chest to reveal the wound that still hadn't healed for Tara to remember she couldn't launch herself at him and beat his ass instead.

And another ten minutes to get her to believe his explanation that he was only showing off the tattoo (and getting teased like Hell for getting it)

"Tara come here," Jax urged, patting the spot on the bed next to him. It took a few minutes but eventually she picked which side of his bedroom door she wanted to be on, snapping shut before walking to sit down next to him.

It was the first time he'd seen her cry since that first day at hospital, two weeks ago, when he cried with her.

Jax reached up to brush his thumb across the tears rolling down her cheek. "Baby listen to me," Jax said. "I'm sorry about before….and I know it's going to take some time to—"

"No, no—just NO!" Tara knocked his hand away from her face, turning to stand directly in front of him, so she glared down in his face. "I am SO sick of this shit!" Tara snapped. "_You _fuck up and I cry. I fuck up and you torture me _until _I cry and then something _always _happens and then somehow _you're _off the hook. FUCK this shit! You know what?" Tara slapped a hand to her chest. "I'm _Hot, _okay? You're not the only pretty one in this relationship. I'm _fuckin _gorgeous! And Prince Charming's not the only with a fan club, Okay? I've got fans too, Jackson…they jump in front of bullets for me….they offer to walk me my car and they lie and say I jerked them off. You think _your _skanky, no self-respect having stalkers are obsessed with _you_? Mine tried to blow you the FUCK up and he kidnapped me just so I can marry him on national television!"

"Tara—"

_"And that's not all Jackson_," Tara growled, tapping two fingers against her temple. "I'm not just a green-eyed fuckin goddess. I'm also practically a genius. No wait—_fuck that! _I AM a genius…..I'm pretty…and I'm….I'm smart….I'm _very, very _smart," Tara squeezed her eyes shut tightly, still failing to block the traitorous tears welling in the corners, "…..Jackson…I swear to God, I'm a genius when it comes to everything but _you."_

Jax was proud of himself for not laughing, for keeping his face completely neutral while she ranted, pacing back and forth. But the hysterics died down, and all the pain and hurt she'd been trying to swallow for him broke through—he didn't have to try.

Her freak out had suddenly lost its humor.

"I'm _sorry, _Tara."

Tara plopped down next to him, completely defeated—didn't fight it at all when he pulled her closer, instead leaning against his shoulder. "That's the problem with us, Jax…no matter how hard I defend you…how hard I defend _us…_one of us is always sorry…it seems like the only time we can ever get it right when bad shit happens to one of us…I swear it's like I can't even _breathe _around you sometimes…but I can't walk away either because then I won't want to…And I know this is really dramatic, Baby, but I can't shake it….I love you so much, Jackson…but sometimes I think I love you too much….sometimes it feels like you'll be the death of me."

"Gemma left me."

Tara's hair whipped him in the face, she pulled back so fast. "What?"

Jax shook his head, smiling at the girl who never hesitated to put her own feelings, her own wellbeing aside for someone else. Silently, he cursed himself for abusing that so many times.

"Jackson—"

"She had to leave," Jax admitted, his own eyes shining. "All the bad shit she's done caught up with her and now I'm all she's got left…I'm all she _had _left but I couldn't leave with her…I had to stay because of you, Tara. Honestly, Babe I don't what to say that I haven't already…I don't know how to get you to believe me…how to convince you that everything I told you before was the truth…I'm a broken record at this point…and with all the skips and the static….all the times I've hurt you, you're probably ready to listen to someone else…but it took us a really long fuckin time to press Play, and I don't want hit the stop button…no rewinding, going backwards to how we were the last year and the two years before that."

"But we _are _going backwards, Jax," Tara argued gently. "It's the same thing over and over…we keep ending up right back where are right now," Tara brought her hand to his chest, tracing the lines of her name on it, "….no matter how much it means to me you can't charm your way out of this."

Jax thought about it. For a moment he seriously considered telling her the truth about the day before. About how sick to his stomach he was, how close he came to losing his damn mind when she decided to stop at the library on her way over to his house. He wondered if she'd believe him when he said he couldn't lose her if she knew about the forty, heart-accelerating minutes when she didn't answer her cellphone and he didn't know why a ten minute drive from her house to his took an extra thirty.

And all the flashbacks of watching men in ski-masks drag her into a van.

Or some psycho stopping her to ask for the time and forcing her into his truck.

"I don't want to charm you, Tara," Jackson confessed. "…..and I'm not just saying this to get you to stay….I'm telling you that you _have _to stay….you can't go anywhere because you're the only one I can't live without. _That's _why I put your name there….I'm done worrying about looking like a pussy. You want the truth?" Jax slapped a hand against the tattoo on his chest. "It's right here…._you're the only thing that can break me."_

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And **THAT... **fully concludes this penultimate Arc of the story. I'll admit, I had to cut a lot scenes out that I really wanted to include. But despite how much I love the OC (Diane) I created, and juxtaposing her and Tara's _soulmationships_, I know you peeps signed on for Jax and Tara so I had to compromise what I could lol. Same sitch for other "deleted" scenes...that might pop as flashbacks in CH75 (like Tara's therapy confession)

The **FINAL** arc begins NEXT update. And I _cannot wait _to flesh out all the scenes I've planned. But while I'm getting that in order, what'd you think?

Lemme Know **|REVIEW|**


	87. Chapter 74: Part I

**FYI:** These **Final **two chapters chronicle the second semester of J &amp; T's sophomore semester of high school, going by the **Months, **carrying into the Fall of their Junior Year. (starts end of January)

_So be aware of the time jumps._

**&amp;BTW: **I recently started a new (AU) J&amp;T fanfic called **"Old Bones" **so those that haven't already, give it a read y'all **:-)**

**Chapter 74: Part **I

* * *

***JANUARY* ~^ JANUARY^~ JANUARY* JANUARY* JANUARY ~^ JANUARY ^~ JANUARY ***

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_**January 23**_

The cops had done a thorough scan of the Knowles' home, Tara's bedroom especially. And, thanks to Jackson Teller, the crazed man responsible for the spy-camera and bugs they'd found in the light above her bed, the tracker underneath the Cutlass—he was gone. All traces of Joshua Kohn had been removed, yet Tara seldom found comfort staying at home.

So she stayed with Jax instead.

Every morning Tara made breakfast for the two of them, sometimes even enough for JT. When it was time for physical therapy, she was both Jax's biggest supporter and biggest pain in the ass.

JT always sent Miles or Niko to shadow her whenever she went shopping, something Jax took a little while to get used to. And every night she'd lay with him in his bed, resting her head against his chest, and he would get lost in her mere presence—the feel of her embrace, the vanilla-honey scent of her hair, the bells and whistles of her laughter as they watched _Mad TV._

Every day prior had been a blur of moments—of wholesome contentment with one another's company.

But the night before, when she'd come back from a visit with her aunt and father, Tara had been different. Last night when he held her, he could sense how stressed she was. He could feel her anxiety over whatever had changed from the time she'd kissed him goodbye earlier that morning to when she returned with puffy eyes, band-aid covered gauze patched over her the pocket of her elbow and a look of defeat.

And he didn't press her—said little more than the, "_I love you," _Tara had come to hear just before he shut the lights off in his bedroom every night. The same sentiments she heard again and again until it calmed her down when her twisting and turning woke him up hours later.

_"Diane's pregnant,"_ Tara said quietly. Her voice was barely above a whisper, gentle not unlike the concern softening Jax's features when he sat the forkful of French toast down on his plate. Eating breakfast together, or any meal really had become a regular thing for them over the past few weeks. But today had marked the first of uncomfortable silences between them, until she finally admitted what had been troubling her.

Jax watched intently, blue eyes noting the absent brushing of her fingers across the tiny, purple dot on patch of skin in the pocket of her elbow. "The family lunch they invited me to," Tara explained, "…Di said she found out about the pregnancy the day I went missing…she told me about why she really left all those years ago and what happened to her…why she thought she'd never be able to have kids….that this was her…her _miracle," _Tara swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, the thickness muddling her speech but it didn't help. Not until she stopped fighting the tears shining in her eyes when she finally looked up to meet his confused expression.

"She's keeping it," Tara told him, smiling. "And I'm happy for her, you know? After everything she's been through Di deserves something good but… but she can't do both…she can't keep the baby and give my dad a piece of her liver…and at first I thought okay," Tara shrugged her shoulders, "that's okay, I'm his daughter…I'll just get tested, and I'll turn out to be a match and then I'll do the transplant instead…so I _did it…_I got tested and..."

Jax's frowned deepened when Tara abruptly started laughing—he cringed at the bitterness, the pain he could hear in her voice. "Tara..."

"I'm _not _a match," Tara stated, shaking her head. "I'm not a match because _of course _I'm not! My mom cheated on him with his next door neighbor and then she died before he could show her how much he hated her…and he _really _hates her….he hates her so much that he spent years hating _me _because I look like she spit me out…I'm her _twin…_I've got her eyes and her hair and her smile….and her _blood…"_

"Tara," Jax stood up, reached for her hands, gently pulling until she stood up with him, until she was enfolded in his arms, face resting against his shoulder. "This isn't on you, Babe...and it doesn't matter…it's all gonna work out…so, he'll have to wait on a list like everyone else…they'll put him at the top…and if they _don't _that just means it's not as serious as you think, right?"

Tara's hair tickled his chin when she shook her head against him, her voice muffled against his T-shirt when she replied, "He doesn't qualify for another three months."

"Well anybody can donate, right?" Jax wondered aloud. Vaguely, he remembered their middle school science teacher, her lesson on how and why the liver was the only organ that can regenerate. "Getting your liver sliced in half is like…it's like how starfish grow their legs back if it's cut off, right? A couple months, it'll be right back to normal….Tara…..what if…I mean if you want…"

Tara pulled back to look at him, to offer him a measured smile. It didn't quite reach her eyes but the effort was more than enough. "Thank you," she said, shaking her gently, "…but _No…._I'd never ask that of you even if you…and you're right this isn't on me to fix, and it's definitely not on you…My dad got himself into this…I just want him to be okay, you know?"

"I want _you _to be okay," Jax told her, tucking her hair behind her ear as he cupped her face.

Tara's smile brightened then, a potent mixture of mischief and hope swirling in her eyes. "I'd be better if I could stay here with you today…"

Jax shook his head, smirking. "_Nope_," he replied. "You _have _to go Tara….I'm right behind you, Babe, just as soon as the doctor clears me to go back but _you…_you're up for scholarships…you're supposed to be graduating early…I need you stay my know-it-all…you have to go to school."

"So, just so we're clear…there's zero chance of you telling Chastity I'm not here when she shows up?" Tara gave him her best pout, but all Jax did was laugh at her.

"I can't believe _I'm _convincing _you _to go to school," he mused, turning to walk into the living room as the distinct crackling of a car pulling up in front of the house sounded outside. Stopping at the couch, he picked her messenger bag up, lassoing the strap over her head, securing it at her side. "Go," Jax told her, nodding towards the front door, "I'll be here when you get back."

Tara sighed, smiling still when she laced her hands with his. "You promise?"

"I do," Jax vowed, pulling one hand free to frame her face with it as he stepped closer to her. It had become an exercise in restraint and patience when she did it. It was just like every time before, ever since he'd watch several agents struggle to get her under control while he lay bleeding out on Jacob Hale's study floor. It was easy to remember the last time his lips had brushed against hers.

It was painfully easy to remember because he hadn't had the pleasure since then. Every time, Tara maneuvered her way out of her mouth meeting his and it was such a gentle avoidance that it'd been too subtle to notice at first. By now he knew it was intentional, but just like the night before he didn't want to press it.

When Tara's head suddenly dipped down, eyes looking down at the tiny gap between their feet, he didn't sigh—didn't allow the frown threatening to break through on his face reach the surface. Instead Jax kissed her forehead, and told her he loved her.

Then he watched her walk out the door, and braced himself against the chill that always consumed him whenever she left.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

Barbara Harland pulled her car into park, twisting the keys out of the ignition before turning to face the man sitting in the front passenger seat next to her. "I still don't understand why you have to do this, Lowell."

Lowell Harland sighed, reaching for her hand, the hand still white-knuckling the steering wheel, bringing it to his lap where it rested firmly in his. "Barb we've been through this already, Honey. It has to be done….if there was _any _other way—"

"There _is _another way," Barbara shook her head, a sudden fierceness in her expression contrasting with the fear in her eyes, "You _helped _them…your testimony helped them put Clay Morrow behind bars and now you're..._you're going to prison, too…._and….and…that's enough."

"Barbara, listen to me—"

"_That's enough!" _Barbara shrieked. "One year…_that _was the deal and with good behavior, the DA says you'll be out in six months. All you have to do is keep your head down and—"

"This is why I didn't want to tell you," Lowell muttered. His words were muffled against the hand he scrubbed across his face, tired eyes facing the front windshield of the car—trying his best to put on a brave as he stared out at the Stockton Correction Facility up ahead, the building he'd agreed to turn himself into to serve his time. "Look, Barbara…I made a mistake…it was one that almost cost my family…a mistake that could have cost me you and Lowell—"

"And now _we _pay the cost?" Barbara argued. "Your wife and your son…where do we fit into this…_redemption? _Huh? Because from where I'm standing, we're the one paying the price for what _you _did. You're not going to lose us. _We're _losing you! Jesus Christ, Lowell, I thought you had an understanding? Is this really John Teller's way of giving you a _pass? _This isn't John, Lowell…it's the club…it's Piney and that crazy-eyed one and the crazy-haired one—Hell they're all crazy and ruthless and_ heartless—"_

"And they love their brother," Lowell argued gently, squeezing her hand. He reached with his other one, lightly brushing the tear rolling down her cheek. "They're criminals, Barb…they do bad shit but their love the same way anyone else does…they look out for their family the same way we look out for ours….I made a decision that affected their family…a choice that almost took their family away and it doesn't matter that I was threatened…I still made a choice and every choice has a consequence—"

"Lowell, you can't leave us," Barbara sobbed, shaking her head, squeezing her eyes shut. "…He has to forgive you…they have to _forgive _you."

"For as long as I've known him Johnathan Teller has always been a man of his word," Lowell told her. "I know it's going to be hard for you…this is one of the hardest things I'll ever have to do…and I'm sorry…I am _so _sorry for everything that I've done, all the pain I've caused you and Junior….but I have to do this…I have to make this right and this is the only way."

"JT said he would protect you," Barbara lamented, rubbing her sleeve underneath her eyes. "He said he would—"

"_Look out for my family," _Lowell said, nodding. "He promised to make sure you're good…to be there…for my wife and my son…that if there was anything _you _need, he'll be there…._He _gave me his word, Baby….Not his club—_him... _and he doesn't have to….but I _have _to do this…this is something I need to do—"

"For his _club!"_

"His family," Lowell agreed, nodding. "…it's the only way to make it right."

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

"_So what's the problem?"_ Padraic demanded, gripping the prepaid cellphone pressed to his ear hard.

He was standing out in the hallway of his apartment, head tilted sideways, staring at the naked women bundled up in the thin sheets of his bed. As if she could sense him watching at her, Diane glanced up at him through the crack in his bedroom door, light eyes rolling at him before flitting back down to the paper she'd been reading.

"Listen….I don't give a shitee about Jimmy O…that Irish prick's been off his leash for a long time now…even the Kings wiped their hands of him….well I can't be two fuckin places at once, can I? Do you _really _want me to take this to the table? To JT and _Chibs? _You really want me to….well then stop making fuckin excuses O'Neil…quit being a pussy and get it done! Gun deals been settled…SAMCRO's out, no recourse and we already lined up a new distributor…. _Jesus…._Do you hear yourself? No—_listen_ to me…this isn't a debate….we already made the arrangements…it's done…I don't care how you do it, so long as SAMBEL gets it done…. when that cargo plane touches down in Belfast? Maureen and the girls better be on it…. _All _of them O'Neil… including Fiona and Carrie... You can't believe me when I tell you…you don't want us to have to come down there and get them."

Padraic snapped the cellphone shut, tossing onto the cluttered, cigarette-burned coffee table in the center of his living room. Walking back down the hallway to his bedroom, he pushed the door closed behind him, kissing her neck as he crawled back over to his side of the bed. "Sorry, Love," he said, "I bet you don't miss that part of our relationship, yeah?"

Diane peered at him over her shoulder, her long auburn hair tickling her waist as she looked back at him, eyebrows rising. "You mean the part where we fuck and then you run off to handle _club business?" _Diane chuckled at the guilty expression on his face—the expression he failed to hide the amusement in his eyes with. "Relax, Pat," she assured him, turning her eyes back to the pile of papers spread out on his bed in front of her. "We're not together. You don't owe me anything…I'm headed out soon anyway. I have to pick Tara up from her doctor's appointment."

"Right," Padraic nodded at her back, knees dipping into the center of the bed as he leaned forward to look over her shoulder at the papers she was reading. "How is little Grace doing?"

Diane tilted her head to meet his eyes, to give him a clear view of the confliction in hers. "She's doing fine," she surmised. "A little _too _fine actually….she's been through so much, and she's still going through it…some of it because of me and yet she's just…she's _perfect…_only I know she's not, because I mean she can't really be, Okay…I did the same thing after….for a long time I pretended I was perfect, too…and sometimes I think the only reason it didn't work was because of you."

Padraic slid off the bed then, and Diane pushed the folder-full of papers shut before moving to join him, sitting at the edge of it. It was merely the length of their hands that distanced them until he slowly placed his over hers, closing the gap. "I never really _had _you," Diane told him, looking down at the hand brushing the back of hers. "It was always me and the club and…maybe I didn't fight hard enough, or maybe I did and just didn't matter…all I know is…somehow the club always won…it always came first….I look at Tara and Jackson and it's….it's _different…_I've spent all this time projecting on her…trying to steer her away from him and," Padraic followed her eyes when she glance down at the leather kutte mixed in with the pile of his clothes on the floor, "…I've trying to steer her away from _that…_and he loves her….I can see how much they love _each other…_but we were the same way….and I just…God, I don't even what to think because the part of me that wants to believe he'll turn out different is at war with the part of me that knows Tara will fall apart the second he lets go of her hand…."

"He _won't." _Diane's eyes shifted, her chin lifted to meet the passion—all the love and pain exuding from his expression. "Jackie-boy's smart, just like his Da'….he knows what he's got and he'll never let go…_the same way I haven't."_

"Padraic—"

"You remember when we were going to move to New York?" Padraic squinted his eyes, eyebrows threading together. "I can't remember the name but it was some Ivy league school—"

"_Columbia."_

Padraic smiled. "Yeah, that's it. You were going to go to school to be some big-shot doctor and I was going to transfer to the New York charter."

Diane's smile lacked the nostalgia, the hope in his. "That was a long time ago, Pat."

"Those apartments you were looking at," Padraic glanced back at the folder on the bed behind them. "You're thinking of moving to New York…"

"Not permanently," Diane responded, shaking her head. "To be honest I don't know _what _I'm thinking…I just know I need a plan…"

"You mean after your divorce from the suit?"

Diane rolled her eyes. "Could you stop calling him that?"

"Sure," Padraic shrugged, "I _could _but I think _dead fucker walking _might be a little too salty for ya."

Diane kept a straight face for a full ten seconds before the laughter blocking her airway burst through. Padraic laughed with her, his smile brightening to the a familiar sound he'd been starved of for way too long.

"I missed this," He admitted a few minutes later. "I really missed _you_."

"I missed you, too."

"How much?" Padraic asked bluntly. "Enough to stick around? There's a lot of things up in air right now…I can't just _leave _Charming but I don't want you to leave either…and I'm sure Little Grace doesn't want you going anywhere, even if she has Jackson."

Diane sighed. "It's complicated."

Padraic smirked, reached for her face, gently gripping her chin as he brushed his lips against hers. "It always is with the pretty ones."

Diane forgoed a verbal response, angling her head to kiss him back, to deepen the kiss, nails lightly scaling his back when he guided her up towards the top of the bed, wrapping her legs around his waist. It was a languid, scorching, wet trail from her neck and shoulders, he sucked kisses over her collarbones. Arrogance fueled the grin in his smile when she gasped, clutching the back of his head, tugging his hair as he went back and forth, tracing circles around her nipples, gently tugging on the earring piercing through her right one.

Diane tipped her head back, eyes sliding shut, bottom lip caught between her teeth in anticipation as he lips met with the softness of her inner thighs, his breath tickling the valley between her legs.

Then he stopped.

And when Diane's flew open, when she leaned forward to look down at him, his eyes were flitting back and forth, studying the faint pattern of scars from one hip to the other. The pain of the procedure was phantom, a pang she hadn't felt in a long time. But when he looked up to meet her eyes, when his own left the markings of her past, the remnants of what she suffered the pain she saw there was very real.

"It wasn't your fault," Diane told him, not for the first time. The words didn't feel any less hollow than they had before, and she silently cursed herself as she found her eyes moving of their own volition, once again flitting towards the leather kutte on his bedroom floor.

Padraic switched gears completely, not unlike what she'd expected him to when he finally saw it—_really _saw it without any distractions on her part. Instead he took the spot beside her, pulling her into him, wrapping her up in his arms, pressed a kiss to her jaw, his palm resting against her stomach.

And for a while they laid there in silence, wondering what the other was thinking, how to fix whatever was wrong, how to focus on everything that was right, until finally, Padraic's hand stopped moving, he stopped sliding it up and down her stomach, and he lifted his head, waiting until she turned hers to look at him. That was when he voiced the question fueling the pensive look in his eyes. For only a moment, they left hers—just long enough for her to follow the path from her face to where his hand rested.

"_You ever think about adoption?" _Diane's eyes widened, her mouth fell open, but before she could even think up a response, Padraic quickly added, "I know what you're thinking and I don't mean _that…_I know how much you hated what Galen was doing but….I remember our plans….and I remember how much you wanted to be a mom and I just….I know it'll never replace what you lost…what those…those _bastards _took from ya—"

Diane sat up fast, her back bumping against the headboard. "Padraic—"

"It's something you should think about," Padraic continued, determined to argue his case. "If I could fix this I would—you gotta know there's _not a goddamn thing _I wouldn't do to make it right if I could but…after what happened me Ma'….Uncle took me on as his own and…there's lots of other kids that need that, too…you'd be a great mom, Di and it wouldn't matter to me if—"

_"I'm pregnant."_

Padraic blinked twice, he tilted his head sideways, not sure he heard her correctly. "What?"

"I'm _pregnant," _Diane repeated, sighing. "The settlement I told you about…I didn't lie…the lie was not telling you that I'm pregnant and I didn't _tell _you because I wasn't go to keep it so it didn't matter…and if I was it _still _didn't matter because we're not together and I don't owe you anything."

"The suit got you—"

"Enough with the _suit _shit," Diane hissed. "Grow the Hell up!"

"And you weren't going to keep it," Padraic mused, eyes flitting down to look at the scars now hidden underneath the sheets she'd wrapped around her body. "….Why?"

"Why am I pregnant when the doctor's told me I'd never be able to conceive again?" Diane shrugged. "I don't know—"

Padraic shook his head, holding a hand up to her. "No, _I mean why weren't you going to keep it?" _

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

Jax might not have realized it, but Tara was moving as if her feet were made of lead when she approached his front door. Or perhaps he had and simply did nothing to stop her. There was no last minute calling out to her, telling her that it wouldn't hurt if she took one more day off like he had last Friday, and the four days before it. Tara summoned calmed, forced confidence into the artificial smile on her face when she'd looked back at him one final time. "I'll see you later," Tara said quietly.

Jax's smiled matched hers, equally as strained, yet still he offered her a playful wink. "I'll see you later, Babe.."

Her hands felt weak, or perhaps it was her mind playing tricks on her as she struggled to grip the knob. It could hardly count as phantom pain even, the pang she felt in her ribs when she pulled the door shut behind her, eyes staring down at the legs she struggled to keep moving forward as she slowly crept down his steps to walk towards her car.

Only, it wasn't Chastity waiting for her.

Wendy was the blonde she saw when she looked up, and she wasn't sitting behind the wheel of her car. No, she was walking towards her, heading towards the house, brown eyes scanning the direction on the box in her hand, a lone key flicking back and forth on the yards worth of lanyard and keychains in her other hand.

"Oh, Hey!" Wendy glanced up her, smiling. "I hope today's French toast day…I swear to you, your taste better than the diner by my old apartment and that shit was my _crack_!"

"What the Hell are you doing here?" Tara snapped, glaring at her.

Wendy's cocked an eyebrow. "Uh….I don't know where you've been the past few months but…I _live _here."

"Right," Tara folded her arms across her chest, rolling back on one foot, "I've been meaning to ask Jackson about that. How much longer is your mom in rehab for?"

Wendy blinked hard, eyes widened. "Look, Tara…I know I fucked up…but I thought we were past it."

"No, _you're _past it," Tara corrected her. "I'm still standing in the same damn place and I've got a front row seat to _you _still latching on to _my _boyfriend."

"I'm not in love with him, okay?" Wendy held her hands up in surrender. "You don't have to go all 90210 on me. This isn't a teen soap opera and I'm not out to steal your _man…_Jax is my best friend, one of the only people I can trust—"

"Spare me the bullshit Wendy, you used to _fuck _him," Tara hissed. "And if I wasn't in his bed every night you'd probably climb right in. You think I'm _past _it? You expect me to just get over it? How the Hell can I when every time I look up you're _here? _What about Lowell? Why don't you go hang with _your _boyfriend for a change?"

Wendy sighed. "I tried to apologize to you before," she said. "I never wanted you to blame Jax. _I'm _the one that started it…I jumped him and I'm _sorry… _you're not the only one with issues….my family—if what I have even constitutes as that…I got my own shit and I'm _sorry…._I swear I've never used that word so many times…I don't like apologizing…life gives you shit, your mom's a junkie whore, her boyfriend likes to beat her in front of you, you just _deal _with it…you deal with it however you can and for a while _Jax _was how I dealt with it…he was just an outlet, that's all he's ever been…_until Lowell…._ but I didn't even know if he'd survive and…Jax had you so he couldn't be my distraction anymore so I decided to take a page out of my mother's book…and Jax being who he is, he _stopped _me…and then all there was left _was _him…and you weren't there…we almost fell back into our old habits. We fucked up and we both deserved every blow we got from you… I could apologize and promise it won't happen again every time I see you…but it wouldn't change what happened…what _almost _happened….and he _really _is my best friend, Tara…I'm not walking away from him…and with everything I'm going through with Lowell right now, I need him…I need him just…."

Tara raised a single eyebrow. "Just like he needs you?" Nodding her head in understanding, shaking her head in distaste, it was the back and forth between two motions that filled the silence until Tara finally spoke again.

"If I went back in the house right now and asked him to choose," Tara said, "Me or you…which one of us do you think he'd pick?"

Wendy sighed. "_You, _Tara…I already know he'd pick you. That's why I don't want it to come to—"

"He'd choose _me?" _Tara cocked her head sideways. "Are you sure? _I'm not…_I mean you said it yourself…you both need each other…you lean on each other for support when life turns to shit…just like when his little brother died—"

"_Tara—"_

"No, it's okay," Tara held a hand up to her protest, "It's the truth and I own it…this is _me _owning my shit…I walked away from him…and you took my seat…._you _didn't walk away from him…and _you're _not the one that's always running…that would be me, right? The _track star…._I'm the one that runs and you're the one that stays no matter what. You're the one that always makes him feel good and I'm the one that got him _shot…_you're not the one constantly pushing him to better," Tara shrugged, tears glittering her eyes, "because you accept him just the way he is….if it wasn't for me, you'd be perfect for him…Jackson would be with _you _if he wasn't in love with me… what a burden that must be for him."

"Tara, you're blowing this out of—"

Tara stepped closer, smirking despite her tears when Wendy flinched as if she thought she'd hit her—again. "But you see here's the thing, Wendy... Jackson isn't the only one with feelings he'd shut off if he could…You think I like feeling like this? _I don't. _But I can't help it. I can't help how much I love him…and I can't help how much it bothers me to see you around him. But I've been through this before. As you loved reminding me before _I'm _the one that walks away when things gets hard. I did it before…and I can find the strength to do it again. This isn't emotional blackmail, this isn't me twisting your arm behind your back until you cry Uncle….what I'm telling you now is nothing more than the truth, and you need to hear it. I _believe _you, Wendy…I believe you're sorry for what you did…and I believe you'd try your best to make sure it never happens again—"

"Not _try," _Wendy argued, shaking her head. "It won't—"

"I know," Tara nodded, "I know it won't happen again because you're the one walking away this time."

"Tara—"

"_Do you love him?" _Tara asked, lifting a hand to wave at the girl peering over at them curiously.

"I already told you, it's not like that—"

"You said you're not _in _love with him," Tara replied. "I'm asking you if you _love _him. Do you love your best friend? Do you _care _about him?"

Wendy nodded, absently rubbing her shoulders. "Of course I do."

"Then walk away, Wendy," Tara told her. "If you really care about him prove it_…._you _have _to give me time…and some distance…I need distance between the two of you because if not…I can't be here…you can't be emotionally dependent on my boyfriend…he's _mine _and I don't want to share him…and I shouldn't have to because he doesn't have to share me…I don't have anyone else. When I'm happy it's because of him, and when I feel like shit he's the first person I run to…even when I want to _strangle _him, his hand is still the first one I reach for when I need someone….He can't be your backup anymore…and you can't be his. I can't accept that. I _don't _accept that…so either _you _walk…or I have to."

Chastity was staring down at her phone as she pulled her truck to a stop in the middle of the street. Tara smiled over Wendy's shoulder, shaking her head at the blonde honking her car horn with one hand and texting with the other. "First day back," Tara mused aloud, walking past her.

"_Jax proved me wrong, you know._" Tara paused at the sound of Wendy's voice, but she didn't turn back to look at her. "….I told you that your life wasn't a fairytale…that he wasn't really a prince…he wouldn't ride in on his white horse and come chasing after you but he _did…._he might have swapped the horse for a Harley and the sword for a gun but he still came after you…Jax is a beautiful, loyal guy…and he would _die _before he loses _you_… that's something nobody, not even his own mother can ever compete with…I just hope one day you'll realize that I'm not _trying_ to…."

"You ready?" Chastity asked, as Tara approached the car, pulling the passenger door open.

Tara rolled her eyes, offering her a measured smile. "As ready as I'm going to be."

"Sup, Blondie?" Chastity said, nodding her head up at the other blonde standing in the middle of the Teller's yard. If she'd noticed the tension between them (in spite of the phone still glued to her fingers) she didn't let on. Wendy offered her a wave, the worst attempt at a smile ever plastered on her face as Tara pulled the car door shut. "You playing hookie today?"

"No," Wendy shook her head, pointing towards the house. "I just need to find the receipt for this," she gestured with the box in her hand, "I figured I could take it back on my way after class."

"Oh okay," Chastity, shifted the truck out of park. "Later!"

It wasn't until they'd turn off the block that she glanced over at Tara. "Hey, I know you two might have a lot of unresolved issues with her because of the...uhh..…the whole she tried to bang your boyfriend and all—" Chastity smiled at the surprise on Tara's face—"Yeah, she told me, and even before she did _you _told me…Me and everyone who was at the clubhouse that night…Look, I'm not trying to get in your business or anything—"

"Then _don't."_

Chastity's head veered back, surprise etching into her features this time. "_Well then…_as _her _friend I have to say this and as_ yours _I promise to never bring it up again….Lowell's giving her _Hell—"_

"_Well _she deserves it—"

"No, it's not because of the whole almost-cheating thing—"

"_Almost _cheating?!" Tara squinted her eyes, head veering left to right. "Are you freaking kidding me? She doesn't just get off on some bullshit technicality. Jax doesn't either...Jesus, Chaz, I know you and Wendy are like two blondes in a pod but that doesn't mean you have to drink the koolaid. What they did was _wrong. _Period. And if you're going to lecture me otherwise, I can get out and walk my ass to school."

_Or back to Jax's house. _

"Geez, put the gun down, Tara. That's not what I meant at all."

"Then what _do _you mean?" Tara huffed.

"I mean he's not flipping out on her because of the Jackson thing," Chastity admitted. "He doesn't even _know _about it, okay? And I'm really hoping you won't slip and tell him or do it _purposely. _That's the only reason I'm bringing it up. Wendy has enough going on without you Lowell more ammunition to use against her."

Tara cocked an eyebrow at her. "What the Hell are you talking about?"

Chastity sighed. "Lowell started therapy a couple weeks ago," she explained. "And from what I've seen with my own eyes, he's not taking it well…and even more than that, he's taking it out on _her."_

"Oh," Tara frowned, her mind briefly flashing back to how JT treated the hospital staff, his physical therapist in particular before she'd somehow managed to get him to snap out of it.

"She's dealing with it," Chastity told her. "Everything he throws at her, she takes it...and lately she's been filling in where his mom can't...sounds like LJ's father has a lot going on, too...Anyway...that's why you and Jax haven't seen her around as much," Chastity stopped at the red light, turning all the way towards Tara. "Look, you can think it's out of guilt if you want..._I don't _but either way it doesn't matter. If you care at all about Lowell you'll keep it to yourself...He needs her right now and if you tell him, he's going to push her away."

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

The Stockton corrections officer's instructions were all simply, direct with the chance of misunderstanding.

_Strip._

_Squat and cough._

_Look straight at the camera._

Lowell Harland managed to get through it all without breaking down, ignored the chafing of the dingy, orange jumpsuit he wore—carried the itchy sheet and pillow wrapped up in the torn, weathered laundry bag they'd provided.

He never once looked any of the C.O's in the eye—nor the inmates he passed walking through to his cell block. Not even the officer that tossed a plastic-wrapped toothbrush, a roll of tissue and a couple bars of soap on the bottom bunk where he sat.

_"Orientation's after dinner," _Officer Hammond instructed. Then he leaned down towards him, picking up the tissue, tossing it against his chest. Lowell caught it before it fell, finally looking up to just in time to catch the meaningful looking in the corrupt officer's eyes when he quietly muttered, "I know how nasty you peckerwoods are…._Don't forget to wipe."_

There, alone in his cell at last, Lowell glanced down at the thin, grayish tissue in his lap.

That was when he finally noticed what was taped inside the roll.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

Her confidence had been waning ever since she stepped outside of Jax's house. But for the first few seconds when Chastity pulled her truck to a stop in the Charming High school parking lot, Tara looked out at her peers, the clusters of high-schooler's in their own worlds and there was the slightest sliver of hope that things could back to how they were before _Tara Knowles _became a hot topic for the gossip circuit.

Then she got out.

And when she got out of the car, all it took was that first person who spotted her. Pulling the hood to Jax's sweatshirt down over her eyes did nothing to help her fade into obscurity. Chanting, _"I can't do this," _over and over in her head did nothing to block all the poorly-whispered words, the buzzing of students talking about her. Keeping her eyes straight forward as she walked towards the building didn't quite block them out. Her peripheral vision was sharp as ever, and she caught every finger pointing in her direction, every curious, often amused expression cast her way as she trekked on until she reached the bottom of the school steps.

Which was where the reigning Queen of gossip sat, perched above her flock.

"…._they were practically having sex on top of the bar…."_

_"….yup, she's a skank, alright…no wonder Jax wanted to get back with wen—"_

_"He was never _with _Wendy, Stupid!"_

Tara felt a hand on her shoulder, the gentle touch reminding her she was supposed to be walking still. She turned, daring a glance to her right to see Chastity smiling encouragingly at her.

Right before turned her head to glare at the cheerleading squad. "Ignore them, Tara….they're just a bunch of bitter bitches."

"ooOoOh….sounds like Nerdvana has another toy to play with," Ima sneered. "Guess you're husband turned you off of guys for a while, huh? Or is she the reason he went all psycho?"

"Honestly, at this point you're plastic surgeon should send me a gift card to thank me for lining his pockets," Donna said, walking up. "Every time I turn around I'm busting your nose because you don't know when to _shut the fuck up."_

"I'm fine," Tara said, turning to face her. "You don't need to…to...Opie? Op…_OPIE!"_

Tara brushed past her, waving her hand at the scraggly-bearded teenager, waiting for the path to clear so he could zoom out of the parking lot. As the swarm of students walked in front of his bike, Tara caught his eye through the crowd, her smile faltering when he averted his gaze, revving up his Harley and taking off the second the moment arose.

"He probably didn't hear you," Chastity suggested, her hand once again on Tara's shoulder. "They were those earplug things when they ride."

"Maybe," Tara mumbled.

_But he saw me._

The late bell ringing spared Tara whatever excused-filled speech Donna was fixing her mouth to relay, just like she had several times before.

Tara sprinted up the steps, yanking the school's front doors open wide when the two guys in front of her letting it slide shut behind them as if they didn't even see her.

"_I can't believe we have to forfeit the season because of _that _bitch," _Brady Richardson muttered to his fellow team member.

"_You heard what Coach said," _Chance Mitchell replied. "Pierce will never play again but David'll be back on the field come next Spring. Quit bitchin, Dude….we still got two more years to bring home the _chip."_

"Yeah," Brady smirked. _"If that train-wreck doesn't do anything to get anyone else on the team killed….and I thought the gonorrhea-Gia was danger…remember last year when half the team was out with mono cuzza her? At least we didn't almost die from—"_

Tara shoved between them, dropping the Spring schedule she'd pulled from her back pocket on the floor. Student's strode past from one direction to the next, hardly anyone bothering to avoid bumping into her, hitting her head with their bags as she bent forward, attempting to pick it up.

_"But then again, with an ass like _that _I guess I can't really blame QB—"_

Chance snickered. "_I'd take a bullet _and _a car slamming into me….just as long as I can slam into _that _tight—"_

"Keep it in your pants, _No-_Chance."

"Why should I keep my pants on, huh, _Tash?" _Chance goaded. "Maybe I really love your _pom-poms." _

Tara followed the trail of the hand picking her schedule from the floor to see Natasha Toric, yet another one of Jax's former flames holding it out to her.

"Thanks," Tara mumbled, moving to walk around her.

Natasha pressed a palm to her chest, stopping her. "Hey, you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Oh, Okay, well listen," Natasha flung her hair over to one shoulder. "I need some extra credit shit if I'm gonna graduate on time so I joined that wack-ass school newsletter shit…Haven't had a chance to Q &amp; A anybody about anything actually interesting….think you could do an interview about the whole married to my stalker on TV shit? You can give the real story, help people figure out what's true and what's rumor or whatever. What you think?"

Tara sighed, rolling her eyes. "I think I'm late to class," she replied, brushing past her. She barely acknowledge the teacher standing at the front of the room when she walked in. Tara picked the first row, sat at the desk closest to the wall, away from everyone.

"Ms Knowles, is it?" Tara looked up to meet the curious expression in the flamboyant teacher's face. "If I had a dime for every time I heard your name this past week alone I could finally retire…where's your better half? He's popular, too….well…more popular than he already was before anyway."

"What happened to Mr. Whitman?" Tara questioned, ignoring the strange man's thirst inappropriate thirst for HS gossip. "I thought he was teaching the Honors classes?"

"Well I can't really tell you all the _details," _Mr. Esposito held a hand in front of his mouth, leaning towards her, "But Mr. Wit was doing a little more than teaching around here….so I'm here as a sub until they find his replacement."

_Well, he should have known he'd get caught eventually._

"Oh," Tara nodded. "Well Jackson's doctor still hasn't cleared him yet. I think he's supposed to find out today if he can come back but if not, you can just give a copy of any of the work for him and I'll make sure he gets it."

_"….I think he's gotten enough from her already…he almost died because of her…one boyfriend too many…she finally toyed with the wrong one…that poor guy…she probably played so many mind games with him he snapped—"_

Everyone looked towards her when Tara slammed her fist hard against her desk, spinning around, her eyes narrowed to slits, nostrils flaring and all. "You want to speak a little louder, _Bitch?"_ Tara snapped. "Not even twenty minutes in and I'm already sick of all of you. And the truth is, I don't even be here right now," Tara stood up, walking towards the back of the class where the girl she'd once donned _no-name lap-sitter _sat, gaping at her with the rest of her posse. "I'll take just about any excuse to get a few extra days off….and getting suspended for beating the shit out of you sounds perfect. So please...say one more thing about me. Say it so that I can hear it…_I dare you."_

"TARA KNOWLES….PLEASE REPORT TO THE GUIDANCE OFFICE IMMEDIATELY…"

Tara glanced up at the loudspeaker, snatching her bag off the desk before walking out without even backward glance. But she didn't really need to look back. She could hear them without walking back into the classroom.

_"Did you hear about her hooking up with that Chastity girl at SAMCRO's New Year's rager? _Oh my God, _I swear she is _such _an opportunist….the new girl's a _Palmer…._her aunt's a guidance counselor…I'm office monitor fourth period and I saw all the financial aid packets and summer internship applications and shit….all laid for her."_

_"She probably pities her, that's all….I mean, Hello….when has she not be a charity case?I mean I'm talking before the whole stalker husband sitch."_

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* * *

John Teller looked up from the plate full of French toast, eggs and sausage on the counter in front of him. Smirking at the blue-eyed boy glaring at him from the wall separating the dining room and the kitchen, JT shrugged his shoulders. "I'm just trying to help _you _out, Son…I'm sure already gave you plenty. You don't want to turn into a fat ass like your Godfather. And I'm not sure your girl will stick around. That six-pack is the only thing you got going for you, Kid."

Jax rolled his eyes, walking towards the fridge to pull a beer from inside.

"You can't mix that with your medication," JT said, pointing towards the fridge. "Put it back. Have some orange juice or something…maybe one of them yogurts she got from the store."

Jax twisted his mouth to one side, eyebrows rising. "What? Now that Gemma's gone you're trying to turn me into a Vegan pussy?"

JT's expression softened a little then, he nodded up at him. "How are you doing with that?" He asked.

Knowing exactly what his father was asking, Jax shrugged. "I'm good," he replied. "You said she made it out and no one but you knows where she went so yeah…I'm good."

_And no that doesn't mean bring up your bullshit love story with that Irish chick. _

JT nodded once. Then he pushed the plate full of breakfast food towards him. "Here…I just wanted to taste it."

Jax pushed it back towards him. "Relax, Old man…the left overs were for you anyway. Tara always makes some for you just in case."

JT narrowed his eyes. "Then why is this the first time I'm eating them?"

Jax rubbed his stomach, flicking the cap off the beer anyway, taking a swig. "I'm a growing boy." Jax ducked, laughing at his father when the elder man spear a forkful of eggs and flung it at him. "She went back to school today," Jax announced. "I had to shove her out the door but she finally went."

"Good for her," JT smiled. "You should get dress so I can see about shipping your ass back to school. You have a doctor's appointment, remember?" JT's cocked an eyebrow in question when his son laughed in response. "What's funny?"

"Nothing," Jax answered, still smirking. "This shit is just weird, that's all...and I don't know about when I was a _baby, _baby but this'll be the first time I _remember _you ever taking me to the doctor."

JT smirked, too then. "That's because it's a job for mother's…_chick shit."_

Jax should his head, turning to walk away—to change out of the ratty T-shirt that still smelled so much like her even though she'd laid against chest hours ago. "Whatever you do, don't say shit like that in front of Tara."

_Not if you ever want to be able to have more kids._

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

"Oh, there you are," Mrs. Palmer chimed, glancing up from the cluster of paperwork laid out in even rows all over her desk. Tara did her best to match the bright smile on her guidance counselors face when she moved to sit down across from her.

"Hi, Mrs. Palmer," Tara said.

"Hello, Sweetheart," Mrs. Palmer turned to grab a box from the shelf behind her desk, opening it up to offer her a doughnut just like she had the day of their first counseling session.

Tara shook her head. "No, Thank you."

"Well that's too bad," Mrs. Palmer replied, winking at her. "I was hoping there would be one less for _me _to eat. Lords knows I don't need it! Well, anyway, How have you been Tara? How's your first day back at school going?"

"_Fine."_

Mrs. Palmer's smile faltered then. "I hope you don't consider this me stepping out of bounds but I've been in contact with your therapist."

"Oh."

"And while she can't divulge any _specifics _about your sessions, it is my understanding that you haven't been very forthcoming," Mrs. Palmer continued. "We have concerns that you're…we think you're reluctance to talk about what happened or even just how you're feeling could be a detriment to well-being and overtime it will likely impact your future. Now, Tara I don't want you to feel as if I'm pressuring you into anything, but I'm worried about you. I've never met a more intelligent, driven young woman and I'm invested in your future."

"I'm invested in my future, too Mrs. Palmer," Tara answered, shrugging her shoulders. "And the future is what I want to focus on, but it just seems like everyone including you and Doctor Turner seem Hell-bent on talking about my past."

"What happened isn't in your past, Honey," Mrs. Palmer argued gently. "You need—"

"Jesus Christ. _I'll talk about it when I'm ready, Okay?!" _Tara shrieked. She winced at the alarm in the concerned guidance counselor's eyes, guilt consuming her immediately, the way it always seemed to lately. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Palmer, I know you're just trying to help and I appreciate it, but this isn't helping me. Nagging more for details, _insisting _that I talk just makes it worse. You don't want me to go it alone, I get it. But the truth is, no matter what you say to me I'll feel alone anyway. This isn't the first tragedy….the first time I've been humiliated…_judged _by people who don't even really know me. The one thing that's keeping me together….the _one _thing that always makes it better is planning my future. And my education is a large part of that. So I don't want to talk about feelings, I want to talk scholarships and internships, Intensive Summer programs…_that's _my therapy. So _please…_just leave it alone."

Mrs. Palmer nodded stiffly, awkwardly shuffling the papers scattered across the desk in between them. Grave concern still remained firmly etched in her features, but the caring guidance counselor did what Tara asked. She changed to subject, switched the topic to one of the summer internships and applying early decision for next Fall. By the time the session had reached its end, both the overachieving sophomore and counselor in Mrs. Palmers office were sharing matching expression of genuine excitement—excitement about Tara's future.

Tara's good mood lasted until the bell rang, the faraway smile spread across her face lasted until she stepped out into the hallway where the crowded hallway full of her peers waited to greet her.

Carrie at her prom, all the pigs blood in the world couldn't amount to the anxiety, the horror Tara felt as the music blared through the loudspeaker—as the Wedding March song blasted from the intercom directly above her head, where she stood frozen in place.

They were all smiling, barely containing their laughter as they sang in unison.

_"Here comes the bride…. All dressed in white….sweetly serene in the soft glowing light."_

The football team was a choir oh hoots and hollers, the cheerleaders threw rice, and everyone else just watched. Someone's hand was on her shoulder, someone was pulling her along but she couldn't see who, not through the blur in her vision, not beyond the clear view of her English teacher hiding her poorly swallowed smile behind the attendance folder in her hand.

"Come on, Tara," she heard Chastity say next to her, urging her forward. "Just ignore them….my aunt put you in gym second period with—"

"Ooh looks like Ms. Knowles traded Ken for _Barbie," _Ima sneered to the left of her. A nasty smile brightened her face as she tossed flower petals from the basket in her hand in Tara's face.

Chastity glared, kicking the basket out of her hand. But before either teenage girl could react beyond getting in each other's faces, yet another blonde pushed past a nonresponsive Tara, shoving Ima into the wall of lockers.

"What the….Hell….are you…_doing….Wendy," _Ima choked, struggling to push her on and off again friend away. "Get….OFF me!"

"You just couldn't help yourself, could you?" Wendy snapped. She released the death-grip on her friend's shoulders then, but only so she could punch her hard enough to make her nose bleed.

"_It's senior prank week," _Maize O'Keefe insisted, gawking at the two of them until someone tackled her to the floor. Wide-eyed and scared shitless, Maize just barely got out the words, _"It was just a joke," _before she had a mouthful of Donna Lewis' fist.

"You won't be a senior for at least another five years, you stupid bitch!"

"Tara, come on," Chastity urged, kicking her foot out to trip Stacy Wilson as the troublemaking Senior zipped through the rowdy crowd trying to avoid anyone stepping on her new Zanotti flats.

"Go on," Coach Timmons waved the two of them, Tara moving as if her feet were made of lead, barely registering their gym teachers hushed, "_I'll give her a few minutes…"_

Chastity pulled Tara inside the empty lockerroom, closing the door to the loud, crowd—muffling Principal Mason's earsplitting scream for students to get to class or be expelled.

"They're just jealous you know," Chastity commented, eyeing Tara anxiously as she robotically removed Jax' sweatshirt, her blouse underneath, lifted up from the bench where she sat to slide her jeans down her legs. "They wish someone loved them enough to do what Jackson did for you."

It was hard to miss the purpling bruise on her side. Chastity wince, absently stepping closer to get a better look. Sighing, she sat down beside her when Tara continued staring at the CHS uniform shirt in her hands instead of putting it on. "Tara, listen to me—"

Tara jerked her arm away, knocking the hand Chastity placed on her bare shoulder away, sliding further down the bench, away from her—crossing her arms over her half-naked chest. "Stop touching me, Damn it! I'm not a fuckin dyke, Okay?"

Chastity blinked hard, shock outweighing the hurt in her expression. "Tara….I never thought you were gay."

_"Goddamn it," _Tara slapped her hands over her face, tears tickling her palms as she spoke through them. "I'm _sooo_ sorry, Chastity…I didn't mean that. I just… I know I kissed you the other night but I was just—"

"I _know," _Chastity slid closer to her, folding her hands into a tent on her lap to keep from reaching out to physically comfort her again. "It's okay…you don't have to explain. But, Tara….I think you've had enough school for the day."

Tara giggled at that, sniffles and all. "Yeah," she mused, rolling glassy eyes. "I made it one whole period and I spent most of that in guidance with your aunt."

Chastity chanced gripping her shoulder again. "Baby steps," she told her, smiling encouragingly. "Hey, there's a bright side isn't there? Thanks to Wendy, Ima's going to need another nose job."

Tara frowned, nodding in acknowledgement of what they both saw. "You can't expect me to be friends with her," Tara said. "But whether she tells Lowell or not. It's her business…I'll stay out of it."

"Good," Chastity reached for her bag, pulling her cellphone from inside of it. "Now, who are we calling? Your Dad or your aunt?"

Tara sighed, green eyes begging when she finally looked up at her. "You think maybe your aunt can write you a pass or something?" The plea in Tara's eyes increased when the locker room's double doors opened, second period gym students pouring in, all of them talking about her in one form or another. "Please," Tara asked quietly, looking down at the ground. "Can you take me home?"

Chastity nodded, flipping her phone open. "What's your Dad's number? I'll call and let him know we're on our way."

Tara shook her head. "….I meant._...I mean take me to Jax."_

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

Tara had to endure another twenty minutes of Mrs. Palmer's concern before she cleared her niece to take her home. Chastity didn't have to do much convincing to get Tara to agree to stopping at the diner first before dropping her off. Tara didn't protest when she asked her to get out the car and sit in the booth with her while she waited for her order. She didn't scowl or complain when Chastity decided wanted to eat there because her food would, _"Be cold," _by the time her lunch period rolled around when she went back to school. Tara even stole a couple fries from Chastity's plate after several decline offers to share the patty melt she ordered.

When Chastity pulled her truck to a stop at the curb in front of the Teller house, Tara's seatbelt was already unsnapped, her fingers already curled around the handle. "Thank you," Tara said quickly, barely glancing towards the driver's side to smile at her friend before sliding out onto the sidewalk.

Tara was jogging up the walkway as the truck behind her pulled off, her speed increased the closer she got to his front door. She was reaching to pushed the door in when someone on the other side, opened it.

Johnathan Teller peered down at the green-eyed brunette he was sure his sixteen year old son spent the entire doctor's visit daydreaming about. "Aren't you supposed to be in school?" He half-teased, smiling at her as he sidestepped to give her room to walk in. He changed directions, following her inside instead of heading out.

"Where's Jax?" Tara asked, rushing towards the kitchen, craning her neck to peek inside before turning to head back into the living room.

JT was standing by the staircase, her next destination, leaning agains the banister. "He's in the shower," the outlaw father replied, grinning. "Doc cleared him to go back to school Monday. It'll be a while until you two can _ride _to school together but at least your misery will have company, huh?"

Tara shook her head, bitter mouth twitching the corners of her mouth. "You have no idea."

"No?" JT sat down on the stair, patted the other end of the step where he sat. "Tell me then….How're you making out, Sweetheart?"

Tara didn't know where to begin, she had no idea where it ended either, or if it ever _would _end. So many feelings, so much confliction, so many memories she wished could be stricken from her mind. Tara couldn't even begin to respond to his question, to tell him how she was doing. So instead she admitted something she'd yet to voice out loud.

Tara turned towards her boyfriend's father, sad eyes, artificial smile fixed on his face. "_I miss Opie," _Tara whispered, fearing the showering boy upstairs would hear her. "I know I have Jackson…and _you…_and Chastity...and Mrs...but he's like my big brother, you know? I'm used to him always being here for stuff like this. He's always there when I need him….but I guess he needs someone now, too….Jax told me what happened to his mother….I guess Donna's getting him through it, the same way Jax is keeping me together….but it's not the same…I mean, not for me anyway…I don't really need him now….Jackson is…he's _perfect…._but _Opie's _the one that needs someone now…as screwed up as I am right now, this is when I'm supposed to come through for him, but he won't let me….He won't even talk to me… How freaking twisted is that? I'm jealous of Donna….I'm jealous of his girlfriend because he needs her more than he needs me….or maybe its because I need him more than he needs me….maybe I'm just sick of needing people more than they need me…."

JT slowly draped an arm across her shoulder, hugging her against chest, kissing the crown of her head the way he did the handful of times he'd had the pleasure of rocking his own daughter to sleep. "He needs you, Sweetheart," JT told her. "He just doesn't know how much he needs you right now…He'll come around."

JT's cellphone vibrated against the breast pocket of his Kutte. Two short sentences later, the outlaw President was vowing to check in with Tara later, heading out through the front door as Tara watched from the staircase.

Tara climbed the stairs two at a time, stopping just outside the cracked bathroom door, staring after the sixteen year old still in the shower, water spraying down on him, beading down the toned muscles in his arms and back, dripping down from his hair, all over his face as he pressed his forehead against the wall, bracing himself against it.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

Jax tossed the fresh T-shirt he'd pulled from his drawer aside, putting all his focus on not reacting as Tara slowly, softly rubbed healing ointment from the tube in her hand into his chest, starting with the fresh tattoo over his chest, then down to the bullet-wound that would forever mar his abdomen. "There," Tara said, snapping the plastic cap back on, placing the ointment on the nightstand. "All done. It was wordless, routine when he reached for her, pulling her into his arms as he laid back. His chest served as her pillow, warm and comforting in a way the memory foam underneath his own head could never measure up.

"How was your first day back, Babe?" Jax asked her, several moments later. He found himself breaking the silence, disrupting his own private enjoyment of the synchronicity of their heartbeats.

"It was fuckin awful," Tara admitted, lifting her head to meet his eyes. "Who says I need a diploma anyway? I can just get a GED."

Jax scowled, eyes narrowing. He put on his best, cold-blooded mercenary expression when he asked her, "_Who do I have to kill now?"_

"That's not funny, Jackson," Tara nudged him in his side with her elbow.

Jax smirked. "Then why are you smiling?"

"Because I'm with you," Tara replied, answering honestly. What happened at school didn't seem so bad, lying here with him now.

Jax raised his free hand to her face, palm pressing against her cheek until she turned her head all the way. He turned to, brushing her hair back behind her ear as he leaned into her. So close, his breath tickled.

Yet, still not quite close enough.

Tara was leaning in, too—long, thick eyelashes fluttering in anticipation, until the moment disappeared, until it abruptly ended when she pulled way, turning her back to him, stiff as a board when he reached to rub her back.

"I'm sorry," Tara mumbled. "I'm not doing it on purpose—"

"I know," Jax slowly moved closer, even slower still he curled his arm around her, fingers gently splayed against her stomach. He kissed the spot behind her ear, squeezing his own eyes shut with hers, not that he could see, when she flinched at the contact. "_Sorry, _I…"

"It's Okay," Tara told him, lacing her fingers the hand on her stomach.

"Babe?" Jax muttered, his breath ticking her shoulder. "Are….are you still mad at me for what I did with Wendy?"

For a moment, he thought she'd fallen asleep, several long minutes gone by before she finally answered.

"I'm trying not to be," Tara admitted.

Jax nodded, and even though she couldn't see he knew she felt it, especially in the way he held her tighter as if he feared she'd pull away.

"Tara, is….is that," Jax shut his eyes, afraid to read into her body language, bracing himself for the reaction he'd feel anyway because he refused to let go of her if he didn't have to. "Babe…._is that why you won't kiss me?"_

Tara sat up, throwing the sheet off her legs, feet plopping down against his bedroom floor. "I still want you, Jackson," Tara confessed quietly, her back facing him. "I just can't….I don't," Tara folder one leg underneath her as she slowly turned around to meet the question in his eyes. "I just don't want to give you the wrong idea, Okay? Sex is…I can't right now and….and if you _knew…._you don't even know the things I had to do to….and even the things you do know….I don't even know why you would _want _to kiss me…"

Tara turned away when he reached for her hand, the bed dipped underneath her when Jax crawled over to her side, her eyes averted the passion-filled indigo gaze peering into her face when he lifted her chin. "Babe—"

_"How long did I torture you?" _Tara wondered aloud, cutting his sentence short, smiling at the confusion creasing his forehead. "I've loved you since we were kids and you used to steal extra money from Gemma's purse so you could buy me ice cream from the truck, too," Tara giggled, but Jax couldn't share her mirth because her smile didn't even come close to reaching her pretty eyes. Shaking her head, she mused, "That didn't stop me from fighting tooth and nail to deny it. I guess that's my thing, you know?" Tara shrugged. "Maybe there's a reason I remind my Dad of my mother so much…she cheated on him, just like I did to David with you….and I remember how annoyed he used to get when she flirted with…but then I guess he had a reason to be jealous of Piney, Huh?"

"You're not making any sense, Tara."

Tara's widened her eyes, that fake, plastered smile spreading further. "I disagree, Jackson…I'd argue that my mind is as clear as it's ever been. Because you see, I'm finally realizing that _I'm _the problem," she stressed, pressing a hand to her chest. "I do this to myself….I mess with people's heads…play mind games until they _snap. _Just like I did with David…just like I did with that Kyle guy…maybe I was too drunk to realize what I was doing, that I was—"

"Tara—"

"He didn't even react when you walked in on us in David's room," Tara pressed on. "He just kept going, told you to find another room to hook up in…he thought I wanted to hook up with him—"

"That _asshole _had no business putting his hands on you, _period," _Jax seethed, wishing Jacob Jr's friend could suddenly appear so he could beat the shit out of him again.

"See?" Tara slapped her hands against her lap. "Now _you're _pissed. And all because of some guy who got caught up in all the mixed signals I like to send people….you'd think I'd at least let Pearson cop a feel before I got him run over—"

Jax reached for her, fingertips burning when she snatched her arm away from him. "Tara, _stop it_—"

"Tara," Jax lamented, blocking her from moving, gripping her thighs as he slid to the floor, kneeling in front of her. "Baby, stop it….you can blame anybody else…Me…your Old man, who ever, but you can't blame yourself."

"Why not?" Tara smirked, her bottom lip quivering. "Oh come on, don't look at me like that…even _you _called me a cock-tease…and David…and his _father…._.Sarah was my best friend and _she _called me the _virgin princess…._because I never want to follow through…that's why he did it….that's why he did that to me…._Joshua…._he was _tired…_of me not following through."

Jax shook his head, blue eyes shining. "Why would you ever think that?"

"It's the truth," Tara stated, standing up. "And you know it."

"No, it's not—"

"It is!" Tara snapped, shoving him back to the floor when he moved to stand up with her. "STOP FUCKIN LYING TO ME!"

Tara tried walking away around him, but he grabbed her legs, she lashed out at his face but he still pulled her further down, until he was cradling her in his lap, bumping his back against the bed as he rocked the sobbing girl in his arms.

"I don't know how to fix this, Babe," Jax croaked, pulling her into his lap. "Just tell me how…and I'll do it….no matter what it is, I swear…._you just gotta tell me how to fix it…_"

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***FEBRUARY* ~^ FEBRUARY^~ FEBRUARY* FEBRUARY* FEBRUARY ~^ FEBRUARY ^~ FEBRUARY ***

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_**February 7th**_

_"I bit off a guy's penis."_

It was the opening line to the first session Tara actually participated in since she met Dr. Violet Turner. That one sentence eliminated any need for preamble, opening the door to Tara discussing any and everything with her therapist, finally willing herself to trust the one person bound by doctor patient privilege, the one person guarantee to keep every dark, twisted secret she harbored, even if for no other reason than the laws of medicine.

It was only the first of many sessions to come, an hour of purging her mind of every cringe-worthy thought that had crossed her mind whenever she'd found her mind idle, every question she wouldn't dare voice aloud in front of anyone else. Nothing, and no one was off limits.

Not Jackson.

_Would he still want to kiss me if he knew?_

Not Diane or Piney.

_It's like everyone is waiting for me to break into a million pieces._

Or her father.

Opie.

Joshua Kohn.

_Why is it always the people that say they love me that hurt me?_

Not even the part of her New Year's Day experience that the cops still hadn't quite pieced together.

_WHY AM I ALWAYS THE FUCKIN VICTIM?!_

That very first day, and every day after Doctor Violet Turner would listen as Tara talked about being a victim, all the while smiling inside as the stories she told, as her experiences and how she dealt with them proved the teenage girls self-assessment false.

Tara had yet to realize that she was one of the strong ones. She wasn't just lucky to make it through, she wasn't anywhere close to hopeless. No matter what hardship, no matter the chaos life threw her way she worked her way through it; she didn't wait on anyone to save her. Even down to the wire, nobody could ever truly hold her prisoner. Physically or mentally—it didn't matter.

This girl, sitting on the couch across from her never stopped fighting—fighting to live and fight even harder another day, fighting for love, for the people she loved, those who loved her.

No matter what.

Tara Knowles was nobody's fuckin victim.

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"Jackson?"

He was waiting in the lobby for her when she walked out. Leaning against the sign-in desk, flowers in hand. Jax looked up at the sound of her voice, mouth twisting to one side of his face as she rushed towards him, green eyes wide with pleasant surprise as she stopped in front of him.

"Hey, Babe," Jax raked a hand through his hair, teeth worrying his bottom lip until he finally asked, "So how'd it go?"

"What are you doing here?" Tara countered. "How'd you…"

Jax chuckled at the glare she shot him briefly before glancing down at his hands, scrutinizing them, then stepping forward to look around towards his back pockets.

"Relax, Tara," Jax told her, rolling his eyes. "I'm still behaving…Look….See?" Jax made a show of patting his pockets. "No riding gloves….Doc says if I don't listen I'll just end up setting myself back if I—"

"What are you _doing _here, Jackson?"

"AND I ALREADY TOLD YOU, I DON'T GIVE A SHITTEEE!"

Tara and Jax joined the others snapping their attention towards the trio being ushered in through the OBGYN office doors by a pretty, redhead in salmon scrubs.

"Okay, better question," Tara amended. "What the Hell is _Padraic _doing here?" Jax burst out laughing with her when their eyes met. "And I thought our relationship had issues," she said, shaking her head. "Diane's divorcing Duncan but he's still determined to be at every doctor's appointment. Di swears he has her tapped her phone….and _Padraic…._he's kinda, sorta with Diane I guess, and he wants to be there for _her _even though it's not his kid and I _really _wish Dr. Turner was on another floor….I have her last name…they know I'm related to them...Diane, anyway…. I mean seriously, Jax. What the Hell is Padraic doing? He can support her without showing up at every appointment to threatening her _sperm donor," _Tara said, making air-quotes.

Jax shrugged, holding the forgotten flowers still in his hand out to her. "He's just making sure she knows he's here, and he's not going away no matter what….showing up is the best way to do that."

"Oh I see," Tara folded her arms across her chest, eyebrow rising. "So that's why you stashed your gloves somewhere so I won't know you went against what Doctor Alt—"

"_I took the train out here, _Tara." Jax's laughter drew more attention than Padraic's outburst when he saw the dumbfounded look on her face. "You do know what a _train _is don't you, Babe? It's actually not that bad. I'd never trade it for my Harley but it's…it's…."

Tara's face changed, and he completely lost his train of thought. Quiet conversation, the subtle conk of keys on a keyboard, phones ringing, fax machines beeping, the metal ballchain slapping against the wings of the ceiling fan above their heads, all sound faded when she stepped towards him, the tips of her flats pressing against the tips of his white Nike's.

Her kiss was soft—lighter than the fingers still ghosting along his face when she pulled back. It was over quickly as it happened, she'd barely pressed her lips against his before she pulled back to gauge his reaction, to see her own emotions reflecting back at her in his eyes, so clearly he didn't even have to lend a voice to the words.

Of course he did it anyway.

_"I love you," _Jax told her. His hand was at her waist, touching her hip, not gripping, grazing but not quite the caress he'd come accustomed to.

Still, it wasn't just a start—it wasn't just _something._

It was everything.

"_There's kids in here, you know!"_

Subtle, yet not subtle at all, capturing the attention of others, something that neither of them noticed.

"You probably want to wait for your aunt…."

Tara shook her head, then remembering her situation she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Well, she's kinda my ride so…"

Jax grinned mischievously, sliding a hand into his back pocket, pulling out not one, but two tickets. "I know it's not the way we usually do it, but….any chance you wanna ride me?"

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_To be Continued... (And No, I'm_ NOT_ skipping Valentine's Day)_

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**You'll have to excuse my laziness. Lately, I write but don't feel like editing after. I'll re-read &amp; correct glaring mistakes later. But for now...**

**|REVIEW| **


	88. Chapter 74: Part II

Chapter** 74:** Part **_II _**

**\- Veritable Old Lady Crow**

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_**The room is spinning **_

_**And I can't breathe**_

_**And Oh, my head is just aching,**_

_**Hands won't stop sweating,**_

**_My knees?_**

**_ Girl, they just won't stop shaking_**

**_My stomach is turning flips,_**

**_And I feel sick, you see_**

**_And this is all just at the_**_ thought **of you leaving me...**_

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***FEBRUARY * ~^FEBRUARY ^~ FEBRUARY * FEBRUARY * FEBRUARY ~^ FEBRUARY ^~ FEBRUARY *~**

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_**February 12th**_

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"I'm taking my break now!" Tara yelled towards the back office. She swiped her keycard, clocking out before walking around the front register of _Books Galore. _Looking back, she glanced up at the clock on the wall behind the counter. Smiling down at cellphone she'd pulled from her pocket, Tara reread the text message he'd sent her an hour ago. Jax was probably already on his way to the food court.

Tara was mentally reviewing all the shelves she needed to reorganize in her head as she walked through the moderately crowded third floor of the Lodi shopping Mall. An old married couple gave her pause, and she found herself stopping briefly to smile at the elderly husband and wife holding hands as they walked into the eyeglass store together. She'd been envisioning growing old with a certain blue-eyed sixteen year old when she turned the corner, colliding with another person—her face bumping against his broad chest.

"Shit," the tall man hissed, swooping down to pick up the messenger bag he'd knocked off her shoulder. Tara gasped, stood frozen in place, staring wildly at the young, handsome stranger holding her bag out to her. "I'm sorry," the guy gushed. "I don't know where my head is at today."

"It's….it's fine," Tara mumbled, cheeks flaming red. Raking a shaky hand through her hair, Tara moved to step aside, to walk around him, all the while trying to push the flashback of the last time someone had run into her from her mind when the tall, twenty-something slid in front of her, holding his hand up in gentle protest.

"Hey, wait a second," He said, squinted his eyes at her. "You look fam—_Holy shit! _It's _you! _You're Tara Knowles! The girl that was forced to marry her kidnapper!"

"Um, yeah…I'm…right…_excuse_ me." Tara's second attempt to walk past him failed as the persistent stranger began walking backwards alongside her, bumping into several people, ignoring their irate outbursts along the way.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude," He explained, holding his hands to his chest. "I know people say I tend to come off that way sometimes but it's just…I'm a journalism major…well I _was _a journalism major. I graduated a couple months ago, and I've pretty much been fighting tooth and nail to make my way out of the basement at the—_Oh my names Carlton by the way_, and I work for the—"

"I'm not interested," Tara told him, walking faster. Shaking her head, she swallowed the urge to scream, or to make a stop at the store that made custom merchandise to have a T-shirt made that said "STOP ASKING FOR INTERVIEWS" across the front and back of it. The media had been relentless, as to be expected with such a sensational news story: _The Kidnapper's Bride, _as donned by the Daily News. Reporters and paparazzi stalking St. Thomas hospital, calling her house phone, sneaking into her hospital room, showing up at her high school. It had finally died down, the media was finally beginning to come to terms with the fact that Tara Knowles had no interest in telling her story. But nothing stopped random strangers from noticing her, from whispering when she walked past, or asking her personal questions as if they had the right to pry.

"I know you're not interested in the whole _Good morning America _kind of platform and I don't really blame you," the man pressed on. "I mean giving all that you've been through already. But it's—"

"_Hey, Babe. _Where's the fire?_" _Tara glanced to her right, the soles of her shoes skidding across the tile as she came to an abrupt stop, flashing the handsome blonde teenager smiling at her a look that was both relieved and anxious.

Carlton turned towards the boy standing next to him. "America's Braveheart…the _Jackson Teller." _Jax cocked an eyebrow at him, blue eyes flitting back and forth, between the eager expression on the young journalists face and the deer-in-headlights look in his girlfriend's eyes. "I was just about to convince your girl here, why she should tell her story instead of letting the media speculation—"

"She's not interested in any of that," Jax interrupted, tilting his head to glance sideways at him. "And she probably already told you that. She was probably real polite about it, too. But if _I_ have to tell you... _I won't be."_

Tara could see it in Carlton's eyes—the internal debate, the young journalist weighing the chances of him getting the story he wanted against the very likelihood that he'd end up like the _stalker husband _he wanted to question her about. A big part of her hated that because of her, that would always be the first thing people thought when they met Jackson Teller; that the public's first impression of him would forever be that he was a killer.

But it was times like this—times she'd had to endure for the past few weeks, that she appreciated the fear he instilled in others, sometimes just by giving them a look.

Carlton, the recent graduate and reporter was no exception.

"My bad, Dude," Carlton lifted his arms, palms facing them both in surrender that wasn't quite mocking. "Just thought I'd see if we could…never mind," he glanced briefly at Tara, adding, "I'm sorry for running into you."

Jax didn't give Tara long to consider the guilty, nervous expression on Carlton's face, the expression that made it clear bumping into her hadn't been an accident. He was already blocking her view, standing in front of her. "You okay, Babe?"

"Yeah," Tara answered after a brief pause. Forced as it was, her smile still held a playful glint as she moved a hand to rub her stomach. "I am kinda hungry though."

"_Right_." Jax smirked, lacing his hand with hers as he moved to stand beside her, the two of them walking the short distance remaining, towards the food court. When they stopped at their usual table, Jax unfolded the sweatshirt thrown over the bend in his elbow, reaching up to place the hood of the SONS sweatshirt on her, leaving it dangling from her head as he leaned in to kiss her. "Extra thick, right?" Jax asked, already knowing the answer. He stole another kiss, needlessly telling her he'd, "Be right back," before walking off to order their lunch.

Tara shrugged her arms into the hoodie, pulling the zipper up before pulling her chair out to sit down. The Lodi mall's air conditioning was always on full blast, and it made for a teeth-chattering combination when Tara paired it with the vanilla milkshake she always ordered. But that was what boyfriends with oversized sweatshirts were for right?

"So I talked to Lisa," Jax announced, walking up with a tray filled with their food and drinks. Sitting down across from her, he reached over to steal one of her chicken tenders, snickering when she scowled at him adding it to his basket full of bacon cheeseburger and fries. "She's giving me the weekend off."

"_Jackson_," Tara groaned, spearing a fry into a tiny paper cup of ketchup. "I thought we already decided we weren't doing anything for Valentine's Day."

"You said _you_ didn't want to do anything for Valentine's Day," Jax corrected her, grinning. "And I said _you _didn't have to _do _anything."

He laughed outright when Tara looked up from the basket of fried chicken in front of her to glare at him.

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"I'm trying to get in all the overtime I can while I can still see my feet," Diane argued, shaking her head at the Scottish biker sitting on the end of the bed behind her. "Which for the record won't be much longer. Months go by fast. Plus I've got a sick brother to worry about, a brother who still hasn't quite gotten the hang of the whole being a parent thing. Tara is _never _home, she won't talk to me—probably _hates _me not that she'll tell me to my face—_unless I tell her she's spending too much time with Jax. _Let me tell ya, that's a sure way to get her claws to come out. And when Gracie gets mad she makes Gemma look like a kitten. Speaking of which, Gemma's _gone. _And John Teller's version of being a parent is letting his son do whatever the Hell he wants including letting his girlfriend stay over every night. Gracie functions like her and Jax are conjoined twins! Plus there's _Duncan. _I'm going through a divorce, or at least I'm _trying _to. He won't freakin divorce me! He's _contesting _it. His asshole lawyer actually got the judge to order court-mandated marriage counseling because apparently I don't already have enough shit—"

"I already told you I could take care of that," Padraic muttered quietly. It wasn't quiet enough judging by how quickly Diane spun around to glare at him. But all the irritated biker did was shrug in response. "Me and the guys'll sit the suit down for a nice chat when he comes back in town, help him understand why he should sign on the dotted line and leave."

Diane sighed. "And then there's _you._" She plopped the hairbrush in her hand down on the dresser. "The outlaw who can't go a day without threatening to kill someone, or I don't know _actually _killing someone. Where'd you go yesterday when you had to take off?"

"Jesus Christ, Di." Padraic's jaw jumped, green eyes twinkling with the laughter he was trying his hardest to hold in. "It's _one _night. Why do you always have to—"

"Because I have _enough_ shit to deal with, without stressing over finding a dress big enough to fit my ass into, which at this point is going to be one Hell of a challenge," Diane complained, daring him with the fire in her eyes to agree with her statement.

"I never thought you'd be one of those," Padraic teased, taunting her with the rise of a single eyebrow. "Am I gonna have to tell you you're not fat every fifteen minutes?"

"It's just a _day_," Diane reasoned, shaking her head yet again. "We can go out any time—preferably when I don't have a million and one more important things I should be doing or _planning_ or—"

_"I'm taking you out," _Padraic stated simply. "I don't care if it's just a day. I don't care if you think you look fat. I don't give a shitee about the million and one _excuses _you're giving me. It's Valentine's Day, and I don't care if it's stupid. Maybe I need an excuse, too…an excuse to do something nice for you. And besides, you're kinda right, Love….there's only so many days left before you're too fat to be seen in public with. You know nobody likes a fat Old Lady." Padraic ducked, laughing when she grabbed her brush off the dresser, launching it at him. "Like you said…it's just one night. You can put off a million and one things for one night with me."

Skepticism kept the smile twitching the corners of her mouth from breaking completely free. Diane crossed her arms over her chest. "We're really doing this, Huh?"

She was speaking about more than a Saturday night Valetine's Day dinner date and they both knew it. No matter how many times, how many different ways she'd tried to convince, to talk him into walking away the Scot wouldn't budge. Today was no exception. But circumstances would be different when her baby, her reluctant soon-to-be ex-husband's baby was born.

"This might seem like an easy decision now," Diane mused, leaning into him when he walked up, curling an arm around her waist. She followed his gaze down to her stomach, the look in his eyes telling enough even without her pregnancy showing yet. "And believe me, Baby. I get the romance part of it," Diane told him. "We love each other…always have. But…If you want me stop being a neurotic mess all the time I need you to show me the plan. I need to know how this is going to work in the long term. You and SAMCRO…I just don't...Pat, you know I would never try to change you but—"

Padraic framed her face in his hands, slanting his mouth over hers. "_I know_," he said, kissing her again. "That's why this conversation is _number one_ on the list of a million and one things. I know there's a shitee load of questions that still need answers. We'll figure it out, Di. We will _figure _it out. But for now, there's only one question that needs answering, Lovey." Padraic tilted his head, a teasing smile spreading across his face. "_Will you be my __valentine?"_

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Clay Morrow glanced up at the sound of a tray scraping against the table where he'd been sitting alone, eating lunch with the general population of Stockton Prison for the first time since his incarceration. He'd spent almost a month in solitary, with daily visits from friends of Lee Toric, but for no reason that was explained to him he was out in the open now, and certain that this information had long since passed through the ranks.

He'd expected some form of retribution from the club. Otto Delaney. Lenny the Pimp or a friend of T.O's stopping by his empty table to settle John Teller and Piney Winston's righteous score. It was a long time coming, and after weeks of not knowing one day from another, he'd made peace with it—he was completely numb to the wrath he knew was coming. And yet, Clay couldn't stop his eyes from bugging out briefly when he looked up to see the trembling, sweat-sheened face of Lowell Harland Sr. instead of any of the number of men he'd been expecting.

A wry smile broke out on Clay's face after a few strained minutes passed. The ousted SAMCRO founding member sat his spork down into the plastic container in front of him, folding battered hands into a tent on the table between them. "So this is how you settle your debt, Huh?" Clay nodded to himself when Lowell made him no answer. "John must have lobbied real hard for you. No way Piney or Hap would have let you live knowing what you did…_what I told you to do_."

Clay chuckled, shaking his head as a sudden thought occurred to him. "Maybe the vote went his way for a reason. Knowing what a fuckin mess you were after you sabotage JT's bike, they probably figure you're the loose end that'll take care of itself in here."

Lowell's expression hardened, nerves slowly giving way to anger. "You threatened my family," he said. "You backed me into a corner and I….but that was my choice. The same as this…this was _my _choice, too."

Clay nodded, ice-blue eyes briefly glancing towards the table behind him. He locked eyes with an intently watching Otto, and a balding, scraggly bearded, goofy looking man Clay didn't recognize. He stole a glance towards the table next to theirs, meeting eyes with two crowded benches filled with intently observing Russians, all staring at him. And then there were the three tables ahead of them, a whole crew of dark-skinned men with menacing stares that never wavered when he looked towards them.

"I'm a marked man no matter what you decide," Clay said, finally landing his eyes back on Lowell, flitting down towards the shaking arm the former Teller-Morrow mechanic kept hidden underneath the table. "But I think we both know what happens to _you _if you make the wrong decision." Clay leaned in towards him, the rasp in his low, deflated voice doubling as he told him, "Make the right decision, Lowell."

Lowell balked at him, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. "You _want _me to….I don't under….this isn't how this was supposed to happen..."

Clay shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not gonna beg for my life. Shit is pointless and I've got that much pride left at least. But pride doesn't matter much since I got no more plays left to make," He admitted, picking his spork back up, scooping a spoonful of the dessert in front of him with it. "Do what you gotta do, Lowell….._just let me finish my pie."_

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"Clay's _dead," _JT announced to the chapel full of men surrounding him. "Lowell followed through. Best case scenario…he'll spend a few weeks in SHU with the rest of the guys. Worst case…Feds get an eyewitness and there's some added years on his sentence."

"I still think that's way too fuckin generous," Happy growled. "We should have Luann put in the word with Otto next time she goes to see him…"

"We already put it to a vote," Bobby interjected, saving their President the trouble of explaining yet again something Happy, Tig and Piney would never agree with even if they accepted it. Turning towards the man sitting at the head of the table, he asked, "We ready to talk business?"

JT nodded, a wide smile crinkling the corners of his eyes as he looked around at all the mostly curious expressions. "Diosa's doing real good," JT announced. "Between that and Redwoody we'll probably have enough bank to get the ball rolling on are other business venture."

_"Happy Endings _for all," Tig joked, snickering with the oddly named Happy sitting beside him.

Kozik rolled his eyes. "I still think we should change the name."

"Well I think _Blowjob Spa and resort _is a lot more on the nose," Juan "Juice" Carlos commented from the chair lining the wall behind Happy and Kozik.

JT turned to smirk at SAMCRO's newest prospect. "We'll figure out the name and what color towels to buy and all that shit later," he told everyone. "For now we need to focus on finalizing the deal with Patricia Camden. If we keep our sales up we should be able to file all the paperwork in a few weeks. Jacob Hale's been buying up property left and right. That asshole's been eyeing the Camelot for a while now but Gary didn't want to sell it. Patricia wants to unload her Old man's prized motel but she'd prefer to sell to us. I also have Kozy's brother looking into Scoops and that mini-mart and shoe store next to it. We shed a lot of blood this year and we lost a lot, too. But our pull from the deal with Galindo's gonna keep us more than whole while we're transitioning. I'm also thinking we might move the clubhouse. Put it to a vote real soon."

"You not planning on selling Teller-Morrow are you?" Tig wondered, voicing the question on everyone else's mind. "I mean I know we're going _mostly _legit but until all our shit's in order with the spa and well…it's not like I'm a jew brain like Bobby over there, and I don't plan on getting paid to give massages so…"

JT shook his head, smiling. "No, I'm not selling it," he answered. "I'm definitely changing the _name _but I'm not selling. And any long term changes I make are a long ways off."

"Good," Chibs chimed in, grinning. "That means we can focus on our other news." The faded scars etched into his face grew more pronounced as his smile widened. "I talked with Kellan last night. He's got our girls. He's keeping them safe until O'Neil and McGee can get them to the cargo plan Oswald's sending there way."

"That's fuckin awesome, Brutha," Tig exclaimed. "When are they coming?"

"They'll be here in time for my birthday," JT replied, eyes narrowing from the smile threatening to break his face if it stretched any wider. The elated SAMCRO leader laughed at the rumbling of palms pounding against the oakwood table, his brothers hooting and hollering in celebration of the Teller and Telford family's being made whole.

"And where does Jax land on this?" Opie interjected from the back corner of the room where he usually remained silent throughout every church meeting. All the hooting and hollering stopped then. "How's the Prince feeling about you bringing him a new Mommy? About being somebody's brother again?"

"Maybe you'd know if you asked him," Kozik commented, frowning at Piney Winston's sour-faced son. "And last I checked he still _had _a brother...even if his head's too far up his ass to act like it right now."

JT garnered up all the patience his fuming best friend lacked when fixing his eyes on his Godson. "He's different since Gemma took off," he admitted honestly, smile faltering. "I know you all love to wax poetic about hard I am to read but Jackson is... well I guess my son didn't fall from the tree is all I'm saying. I used to be able to read him…but then I guess him and your sister—"

"Well at least his mother really_ did_ abandon him even if it was to save her own ass," Opie interrupted, scowling as he stood up to leave. "I spent the last four years thinking my mother left. But turns out she was _dead..._Just a tarp full of old bones on the side of the road."

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_**February 13th**_

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It was a Friday afternoon, and love was in the air at Charming High School.

The love of being spiteful for some.

And in the case of Tara Knowles specifically, spite was the mood of choice for many. Things still hadn't quite settled down even after almost a month of being back in school since Kohn-gate. All the jocks were still angry and bitter about having to forfeit the season because of Pearson Reynolds and their QB Captain David Hale. But after the return of Jackson Teller on her arm every day and a very heated, mysterious conversation Tara witnessed Chance Mitchell having with Opie (one that Donna adamantly denied knowing anything about) the football team quickly learned to suffer in silence.

The female student body were an entirely different monster to tackle. And outside of the bedroom or the janitor's closet Jackson Teller was no match for them. Tara knew firsthand, as a young lady herself that women had ways—teenage girls in particular did petty, underhanded, and passive-aggressive like no other.

It was just her luck that Ima, Maize and the other skanks of BimboVille had finally chosen a way to torture her that came with snacks.

"You've got _another_ one?" Chastity shook her head in disbelief, gaping as the three of them watched Stephanie Eglee walking towards the table where they sat, in the middle of the crowded Charming High school cafeteria. "Okay you know what? This was funny at first but now they're just being ridiculous."

All throughout the building pink and red was splattered everywhere, plastered on every wall in every hallway. Girls squealing in delight or scowling in frustration as lockers were opened to reveal valentines from their boyfriends; Every time the bell rang the hallway was a high traffic zone of students holding hands, making out, carrying stuffed bears and candy and roses.

And yet not a single girl in school could compete with the towering pile of flowers, candies and other gifts scattered across the table in front of Tara.

Tara giggled, turning her head to wink at the table of cheerleaders scowling at her from across the room. "Who knows? Maybe this time is something for you or Donna."

"Hi again!" Stephanie chimed, pulling a single, plastic wrapped rose and box of chocolate out of the bag hanging off her shoulder. "Now let's see…..I just had the teddy bear..."

"I know this is going to make me sound really stupid," Donna commented, glancing up from the magazine in her hand to raise an eyebrow at Stephanie as she sifted through her bag of gifts. "But right about now I kind of wish I had a boyfriend who shot my stalker husband dead and took on half of California's law enforcement to save me. Apparently it comes with perks."

"Yeah," Chastity snorted, shaking her head. "But only if your boyfriend is Charming High School's infamous panty dropper. I don't know Donna. Somehow I doubt _Opie_ would incite this much hate from his fan club of _one," _the amused blonde joked, briefly glancing over at the Cheerleaders watching them intently for the Tara breakdown they'd have to freeze Hell over to see again.

"Does this one have a signature?" Tara asked lazily, taking a bite into the chocolate in her hand. Donna and Chastity laughed when her face twisted, and she reached for a napkin to spit out the coconut flavor.

"Nope," Stephanie smiled, handing her the single, plastic wrapped rose and the box of assorted chocolates that went with it, yet another two of the same to join the pile. "It's anonymous again. Boy I tell you, they must be feeling really bad for pranking you on your first day back. I know I'm not supposed to tell you who sent what but—"

_"Every breath you take, every move you make," _Tara crooned, using a comically deep voice to read the card attached to the chocolates. "_Every bond you break. Every step you take. I'll be watching you…._Nice…I don't think this poem's original though. Sounds like the lyrics to a song I've heard before," Tara shook the box of chocolatey treats in her hand, lips pursing as she said, "I hope these ones don't have any of the coconut kind."

Tara snatched the card from the box, tossing it into the pile of other creepy, stalker like love notes and marriage proposals. If they'd done this a few weeks earlier she might have had a mental breakdown, but at this point she was vaccinated, and it no longer bothered her that her peers seemed intent on hurting her just because she had who they wanted. Or because they had to take a year off of chasing a football and spooning other men in tights in the middle of a stupid field.

"They're not being nice," Chastity schooled the perky, Valentine's Day candy striper scrunching her eyebrows as she thought about the message Tara had read aloud. "They're being petty just like they were before, only Tara's over it."

"_Oh_." Stephanie rolled her eyes, turning a wry smile towards the room full of students watching the table she stood in front of. "Well thanks to you Yearbook club made the rest of the money we needed for a new computer for the lab. I am happy to be done however. _Finally._ The rest of stuff in here is from _Davey._"

"Glad I could help out," Tara joked, lifting the lid off the newbox, inspecting the tray of chocolates. "Apparently I have a fan club now, and all my groupies are sending me chocolates and roses and telling me I'm going to marry them on TV."

Tara was studying the candy intently, trying to ferret out which piece was likely to have nuts in it when she heard Stephanie announce, "Looks like you have one more coming your way…"

Tara looked up with everyone else, glancing towards the cafeteria entrance. Only Jackson Teller could make carrying a thirty-eight inch Teddy bear look drop-dead sexy. The stuffed animal in questions was holding a big, red heart with the words _I love you, Babe _sewn into the center of it in large, all white letters.

"_Okay," _Chastity mumbled under her breath. "Remember when I was agreeing with you about how Valentine's Day is just some bullshit gimmick to get people to spend hundreds of dollars on candy and gifts and a day for boyfriends to try and make up for all the stupid shit they did every day before it? _Screw_ that. You _have _to let him take you out. He's killing me with how sweet he is lately. If not for the whole you know...him having a_ penis_ thing?You'd hate me more than another blonde we know."

"Happy Valentine's Day, Beautiful," Jax drawled, pulling a single rose from the back pocket of his baggy jeans. It was a _pink _rose that contrasted with the pile of red ones scattered on the table in front of her. He was still holding the bear, balancing it on one hip, an image that inexplicably had Tara picturing a child in its place.

Jax was the only one who hadn't noticed when Tara briefly zoned out. He'd missed her far-away, goofy smile and all because he was too busy frowning at the stack of gifts in front of her. His blue eyes flitted back and forth between them and the piles of gift tags next to them. "What's all of this?"

"I think your biggest fans are finally starting to warm up to her," Donna snarked, grinning over at the daydreaming brunette sitting across from her on the end of the table.

"How did you even get that thing here?" Chastity wondered, eyebrows rising.

Jax smirked. "Yeah about that…"

Tara blinked hard, smiling at him as he pulled her up to stand. They all snickered when he sat the bear in her seat, right before pulling her to sit into his lap when he sat down in one of the two empty chairs left.

"Don't get pissed at me, Babe but I might have broken my promise to never let anyone else ride with me," Jax joked, kissing her cheek.

"You mean any-_thing _else," Donna corrected, giggling. "Oh my God, _please _tell me you seriously rode through Charming with a Teddy bear on your back."

"I swear to God, he doesn't mean anything, Tara," Jax continued, blue eyes widening with a taunting passion. "It was just a ride. You're the only one that I love…._and I love you _Beary _much_."

The table erupted with laughter, even Stephanie who couldn't stop giggling long enough to audibly tell everyone that she'd, "See them later," when she caught sight of her boyfriend David squinting curiously at them from across the room.

_"I've got it….I said I got—DAMN IT, WENDY!_ Look what you did!"

In a matter of seconds, all the other tables full of students went from watching Tara and her lunch-mates to staring after the couple fighting just a few steps away from where the group of them sat.

"I'm sorry," Wendy muttered, kneeling to pick up the napkins scattered on the floor along with everything else that was on Lowell Jr. lunch tray. "I was just trying to help—"

"I _know _what you were—I said I've got it! Or at least I _had _it until you got in the way as usual," Lowell snapped, glaring up at her. He snatched the fistful of napkins out of her hand, knocking her arm away to wipe at the soggy, mixed vegetables painting the front of his T-shirt. "You know…_maybe _if you get over your own guilt you can finally stop being such a fuckin nag all the time. Or _maybe _you should go try and fuck your _best friend_ again since that seems to be the one thing that makes you feel better."

"Lowell—"

Wendy might have had several broken toes if she hadn't slid out of the way fast enough. But she was used to the speed with which Lowell took off—storming away from her the only way he could at the moment. The large, metal wheels of his chair banged hard into the table, knocking several boxes of chocolates off the table, and sending Outlaw-Teddy keeling over to the floor. "I'll be right back," Wendy announced to no one in particular, turning to head back towards the lunch line.

"Just forget it," Lowell griped, waving her off. "I'm not even that hungry and everyone knows the food they serve in the cafeteria tastes like shit anyway..._although it's probably a lot better than what my dad is eating right about now."_

"You can't take your meds on an empty stom—"

"I wouldn't need the painkillers anymore if you'd stop bein such a royal fuckin pain in my ass," Lowell sneered.

"Lowell—"

"Seriously, Wendy. Give it a fuckin rest already," Lowell interrupted, yanking the book bag hanging from one of the handles of his wheelchair. He snatched the clasps apart and several books tumbled out. Right on cue, Wendy dipped down to pick them up, only to jump out of dodge when the left wheel of his chair veered towards her as he abruptly spun around to glower at her. "I can pick up my own goddamn books! I'm not a fuckin invalid!"

"Look, Lowell," Donna said, shaking her head. "I know you're going through a lot right now and—"

"Oh, great. Another _I'm here for you _speech." Lowell scowled at her, a nasty smile curling his lips. "How about we just skip to the part where you get on your knees and blow me. Or _try _to blow me, I guess. If you ask Wendy here, it's a little like playing pool with a rope. One of the many drawbacks of having a knife stabbed into your spine over and over. But I guess since sex makes _her _feel better she figured I'd be the same. And Hey, maybe I _am._ Maybe I just need the right person to get my motor running. Everyone knows how bat-shit crazy _you _are. Must be a _real_ good reason Opie puts up with you all the time. You're probably really good at—"

"HEY!" Jax shouted, moving to get up until he remembered Tara was still in his lap.

"Enough," Chastity interjected. "Seriously, Dude. You think everybody's supposed to just take your shit because you're in a bad mood?" She looked up at Wendy, sympathy softening her grimace. "Is this how he treats you all the time?"

"It's his first day back," Wendy rushed to explain. "And he's having a hard time. He just—"

_"That's not an excuse," _Tara cut in. All eyes were on her, but she fixed her green pair on one person only. "It's not her fault you were attacked Lowell. If anyone's to blame for that it would be me. But guess what? _I didn't try to stab you to death either. _And whatever you're going through? Wendy's just trying to help you and you can think it's out of guilt all you want because it probably is. But that's not the _only _reason," the angry brunette stressed, sneaking a glance at the nervous expression on Jax's face through the corner of her eye. "You're not _paralyzed_. Your mother told me when I called to ask about you. You need therapy. A whole lot of it. And you need support from people who actually give a shit about you to get through it. If Jackson's father treated me the way you're treating her I wouldn't have been there to support him until he got better and if you're attitude is anything like this during rehab that's probably the reason you're still in a wheelchair. Adjust your attitude Lowell. And stop being asshole before Wendy finally _realizes _she wasn't put on this Earth for anyone that has a cock between their legs to do whatever the fuck they please with her...or _to _her. When life gives you shit, you don't lob it at the people who care enough about you to shovel through it. Now please…_Have a fuckin chocolate!" _

Tara shoved the box in one hand towards him, pointing with her other hand, towards the eerily quiet, eavesdropping cheerleaders (her finger aimed at Ima to be precise). "Thanks to _those_ stupid bitches I have plenty to share...and the ones with almonds in them are _mine_…."

Lowell glanced up at Wendy, red tinting his cheeks when he mumbled a half-audible, "_I'm sorry," _turning sad eyes towards Donna to mutter the same sentiment before bowing his head.

Tara smiled, nodding her head as she turned to look at the boy holding her tight in his lap. Her grin widened despite the sore subject Lowell's ranting had brought up when she saw the concern on his face—the concern for himself, that is.

Somehow she didn't think Jax would ever completely believe her no matter how many times she told him, and in spite of how many different ways she showed him she'd forgiven him for what he (not almost) did. And Tara couldn't find it in her heart to be sad about it either. For her, it made it all the more likely he'd never do it again. The fear of losing her, after he'd fought so hard not to, in more ways than one kept her at ease—and made it a lot easier to ignore the Kung Fu crouching tiger always threatening to rear its head when another girl fluttered her eyelashes in his direction.

"Lunch line's about to close," Wendy commented, breaking the silence surrounding them. The rest of the cafeteria had finally went back to their own conversations. "You sure you don't want me to get you another one?"

"I can get it," Lowell answered, offering her the slightest hint of a smile. "But can you...can you maybe get me a soda?"

Tara smiled, watching like a proud mama as the couple went their separate ways—Lowell rolling towards the lunch line and Wendy towards the row of vending machines.

"Good thing you spoke up when you did," Donna commented, leaning forward to steal a chocolate. "I don't care how awful it makes me. I'm not above punching a cripple in the face if he earned that shit. They hate being treated like invalids don't they? I offer equal opportunity beat downs."

"Don't say _cripple_," Chastity corrected. "That's derogatory. It's handy-capable."

"Fuck that," Donna replied, waving her hand. "_Two-wheels _pretty much told me to suck his dick. And if he would have said that shit to _Tara_ he really _would _be a cripple for good."

Chastity snickered, turning to look at Jax who was scowling at the mere thought of it when Tara chimed in, "You got that right. And it wouldn't have been Jackson that laid his ass out either. LJ better ask JT about the time I hit him with one of his crutches."

"I guess sometimes pride really does cometh before the _fall_," Donna joked, giggling with the rest of them.

Donna and Chastity were busy playing rock, paper, scissors for the rest of Tara's chocolate covered cherries. And then they were talking about the Spring formal coming up next month and all the many ways Donna planned on persuading Opie to show up in a matching tuxedo to escort her.

From across the room, Wendy mouthed a discreet, _"Thank you," _to Tara, shaking her head when Tara's only response was to scowl and roll her eyes instead of smiling back. And then Tara watched as her and Lowell left the cafeteria together.

Tara's eyes flitted towards the ceiling, eyebrows rising in amusement as she felt Jax's lips brushing against her ear. "So what's the verdict, Babe? Are you gonna let me take you out tomorrow or do I have to ask _Teddy _to go with me instead?"

Tara turned to smile at him, pressing her palm to his face. "How exactly _did _you get that thing here? I know you're arrogant but there's no way in Hell you rode around with that on the back of your bike."

"Call in sick to work tomorrow and I'll tell you," Jax teased, kissing her nose. "Seriously, Tara…I already paid for everything."

"_Everything_?" Tara's eyes widened. "What is _everything? _Where are we going?"

"So we _are _going somewhere?" Jax nodded his head up at her, smirking. "I knew you were full of it. You love Valentine's day just like every other chick that pretends they don't."

"And you probably think a bunch of grand gestures are gonna get you laid just like every other _guy_," Tara bit back, poking his forehead.

Jax chuckled. "Well it can't hurt," he teased, shrugging. He laughed harder, wincing when she slapped him over his head. "Or maybe it can."

"I already asked for the weekend off," Tara begrudgingly admitted finally. "So, where are you taking me?"

Jax gripped her chin between his fingers, holding her face in place as he kissed her, lips lingering a breath's length away from hers even when he finally pulled back. "You'll see when we get there," he advised her. "And for the record…if you don't like it? _It was all _Teddy's _idea."_

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* * *

**_February 14th_**

* * *

_Oh Freedom_

_Oh Freedom,_

_Oh Freedom over me, _

_And before I'll be a slave,_

_I'll be buried in my grave,_

_And go home to my lord and be free..._

The music blaring from the church several feet ahead had finally stopped; and the outpour of people had finally thinned out, the parking lot was empty save for a few cars. Their bikes were parked further down the steep hill, on the side of the highway. Safeties were off, and silencers were screwed on the guns in their leather gloved hands as they crouched behind the plethora of thick trees and bushes aligning the building.

"_Where the Hell are you, Padraic? This is the _third_ message I'm leaving you….I can't believe this shit….this is _exactly _why I didn't want to do this. But you insisted on it….you begged me…you promised me and now I'm sitting at home waiting for you to handle some club emergency instead of working the extra shift at the hospital…the shift I _backed out of_ because you wanted to spend the whole day together….Look, Pat…I don't even have the energy to be mad at you. All the anger I've got is for myself for not going with my instincts….for getting my hopes up….Just call me later okay? Or at least stop by and come show your face so I know you're not dead in a ditch somewhere because_ club business_ went wrong…I….I love you…Bye."_

Padraic was aiming his thumb for the send button on the prepaid cellphone in his hand, about to call her back when the spiky-haired blonde crouching next to him tapped his shoulder. "Ope just sent the text," he whispered. "If we're going to do this we need to move now. Can't risk a high-speed chase. And Juice already confirmed they're leaving tonight instead of on Tuesday after the summit."

"_Aye." _Padraic paused, dropping the arm he'd lifted to aim the gun in his hand when Kozik gripped his shoulder, firmer this time.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Kozik asked for the final time, turning his head to stare at the others waiting for the question to be answered for the penultimate time. "If we do this, we're doing it for _you, _Bro. Your Old lady's the one that suffered and all Diane wants is for us to drop it. To let it be. She made you promise—"

"I know what I said to her," Padraic hissed back, cocking the gun back to double-check that all the bullets beside the one already in the chamber were accounted for. "I was _there. _Just like I know what I said to _you _the last time we had this conversation."

"I don't like it," Bobby commented, shaking his head even as he screwed the silencer on his own gun. "Our plan was to hit the warehouse. No chance of witnesses...more time to cover our asses. This spontaneous shit only works in movies."

"Yeah, but this might be the last chance to put this behind us," Chibs interjected. "Paddy needs to make it right. He needs to make what _Clay _allowed to happen right."

"We doing this shit or what?" Happy barked.

"_I'm _doing this," Padraic replied. Standing up, he turned to creep towards the front of the building. Without another word, Kozik and the others followed behind him, storming up the front steps of the church, immediately shooting every man who came into view before they could raise their own weapons.

True to the weasel he was, Ethan Zobelle crawled across the church floor, weaving in and out of the pews as the gunfire lit up the room, as his most fearless, dedicated soldier A.J Weston went down hard—three bullets, one right after the other through his forehead, spraying from the gun in Padraic's hand.

Chibs and JT were assessing the flesh wound Niko had sustained. Tig was chastising Jason for "acting like a little bitch," when the bullet only hit his vest instead of piercing through like it had with a characteristically tough Happy.

Padraic missed all of this, his one focus was singular as he made his way towards the back room of the church—the pastor's private office, where Ethan Zobelle sat, waiting for him with the gun he'd pulled from his top drawer in his hand still level with the desk.

"I knew you'd show up eventually," Zobelle commented, keeping his shaky, gun-hand steady as he could manage. The iron tapped lightly against the desk as his hand trembled more and more. "West thought I was just being paranoid but I _knew."_

"I wish _I'd _known," Padraic seethed, raising his gun before Zobelle could lift his own another inch higher. He fired a single shot—aiming for the center, hitting his target in the throat. "If I'd have known sooner I would have had time to make this a lot more painful than it is for you right now," the scowling Scotsman remarked, sneering as he watched the heartless Nazi-pastor choke on his own blood.

Zobelle's hands reached for his bleeding neck, keeling sideways, collapsing onto the mint-carpeted floor with a thud that nearly drowned out the strangled sob muffled behind the closed door to the left of his desk. Padraic stepped over the dead man, kicking the door all the way open to see a beautiful, blonde woman—angry-red face overflowing with tears, nails digging into the face, into the scalp of her flawlessly cut bob as she finally braved a glance towards the man she'd watched kill her father through the cracked bathroom door.

Padraic was already raising his gun again when she crept backwards, begging for her life. Polly Zobelle's hands were raised on either side of her tear-soaked face, but the surrender in her eyes wasn't feigned, it was real as ever as a string of barely-decipherable words stammered from her lips. "P-p-p-please….Padraic, please don't….don't….I'm s-s-s-sorry for—"

"_Did you know?" _Padraic asked gently, lowering his gun to his side. "When Clay sent me to spend that weekend with you…to soften you up…get you _talking _so he could double...did you know what he was going to do? What he was going to do to _her?"_

"I didn't," Polly shrieked, blue eyes widening. "I swear to fuckin God I didn't know it was her…..it was sup...it-t-t was supposed to be….._supposed to be Gemma Teller."_

Padraic nodded stiffly, squatting down to brush back the strands of blonde locks sticking to her face. "I believe you," he promised, tucking the dampened strands behind her ear. Leaning in close, his breath tickled the fine hairs of earlobe as he whispered, "…._But it wasn't."_

Then he stood up, aiming the gun at the crown of her head as she shut her eyes.

This time, when he pulled the trigger, he didn't notice the two young boys who'd witness the execution through the cracked door of the bathroom closet. Duke Weston's wide-eyed gasp of horror was muffled by the smothering palm of his tough older brother Cliff.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

Jax reached for the helmet in her hand, blindly hooking it onto the handle bar of his Harley as he watched her. Tara, a girl who had never met a pair of denim cut-offs she didn't like was once again needlessly adjusting her shorts, trying to pull them further down her long legs. Then she was patting at the top of her head for the sunglasses he'd slyly tucked away while she'd been fussing over the slightest hint of cleavage peeking out of her red, eyelet halter top. When Tara gave up on her shorts, and shielding her face, shaky hands returned to her hair, ruffling the soft, shiny, wind-tousled curls he'd been aching to run his own hands through ever since he'd shown up at her house to pick her up for their date.

"So, where are we going exactly?" Tara asked, green eyes scanning the crowds of people walking back and forth on the busy Downton Los Angeles Street they were standing the middle of. Tara watched, a single eyebrow rising as she watched him pull a bandana from the back pocket of his Crisp, faded blue Calvin Klein jeans. The thin, black piece of fabric momentarily distracted Tara from her fear of crowds and people pointing and staring at her. "What's that for?"

Jax rolled his eyes, twirling the pointer finger on his free hand in a circular motion. "Turn around and close your eyes, Babe," he instructed, holding up the blindfold.

"Okay, seriously. What are you up to?" Tara asked, flinching when a random stranger fighting with his tantrum-throwing daughter bumped into her back.

"You'll see," Jax stepped closer to her, sighing when she knocked his hands away before he could tie the blindfold over her eyes. "Aww come on. Did I give _you _a hard time when you did this for me on my birthday?"

Jax had been wise to head out earlier. They'd beat the traffic and he'd had enough spare time to get the stubborn teenage girl blindly walking forward with only him as guidance to comply. "Okay, We're here," Jax announced several minutes later. With a sigh of relief, Tara reached up to pull the blindfold off on her own. And when she glanced around to see what the big surprise was, the snarky rant about how her life flashed before her eyes every time someone bumped her foot or shoulders died on her tongue.

Jax had never wished he'd owned a camcorder more than he did in that moment. Tara's open-mouthed gasp, the rounding of her beautiful green eyes, the giddy smile spreading across her face—lighting up the crowded boulevard with megawatts that the blinking lights above their heads could never compete with.

Tonight, in that very moment and every moment shortly after Tara Knowles wasn't a fifteen year old kidnap victim, she wasn't the teenage girl who'd been forced to marry her attacker on live television. But she wasn't the twelve year old taking care of her alcoholic father either. Tonight, Tara Knowles was nine year's old again. Her next door neighbor Opie Winston wasn't the best friend still refusing to speak to her, and Jackson Teller was still the first and only boy she'd ever kissed.

And she loved Roald Dahl—she loved him so very much, just like she had when she was younger and she dared to believe in things like magic and teachers named Miss Honey.

Unable to resist any longer, he stepped even closer to her, threading his fingers through her hair, inhaling the sweet vanilla Honey scent as he kissed her cheek. "Just so you know I read the book first," Jax commented, his breath tickling the shell of her ear. "It wasn't really my thing. As you know, I'm more of a Shakespeare guy…but I'm kind of hoping the play will be a little more interesting."

When Tara finally turned to look at him, his own breath hitched. It was the same every time. No matter what he never seemed to get used to it. The love he saw there, the undiluted passion, the admiration. And her smile, it was intoxicating. Every time she looked away it was like going cold turkey, and the fear of her never looking at him that way again was damn near crippling.

"How'd you—I mean this was only supposed to be in New York," Tara stammered, shaking her head in disbelief, eyes flitting between the brightly glowing marquee of a little girl in a sparkling blue dress with a red ribbon tied in her muddy-brown hair. "I didn't know it was in….was in LA."

"Well apparently the ticket sales for _Matilda: the Musical _were so high in New York, they decided to see how it did in L.A.," Jax explained. Then he slid his hand into hers. "Come on, Babe. I want to see if I can hunt down some twizzlers before the show starts."

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

People skills.

Lee Toric had always lacked them.

Especially when children were involved. If there was a suspect that needed working over with the proverbial phone book he was the perfect man for the job, but when it came to hand holding and talking victims and witnesses through what they'd experienced he was just the man standing behind the glass, the silent agent listening in and hoping to hear or see something—anything he could use to further or resolve his case.

But tonight wasn't about solving a case. He wasn't standing alone, in dark room, observing two young children from behind a one-way viewing glass because he needed information to further an ongoing investigation. Lee Toric needed confirmation, he needed one answer in particular. He needed to officially know who was responsible for making a steaming pile of shit out of his career. He wanted to know who to direct his wrath at, who to hold accountable for pissing away the eight year Neo-Nazi sting that was going to get him a promotion, that was going to vindicate him in the eyes of every pencil pushing upper-management, politicking asshole that had labeled him a liability that wasn't worth the heat he always brought on the Bureau.

_"I know this is difficult sweetheart," _the grey-eyed social worker assured, resting a hand on Duke Weston's trembling shoulder. "_And you can take all the time you need."_

"You're a race traitor," Dukey blubbered, wiping at the tears in his eyes. "You and every copper in here! We never talk to cops! That's what Daddy taught us!"

"I understand," Miriam Broderick pressed on. Toric watched as she slowly opened the manila folder on the desk in front of him. Slowly she spread out one paper after another, all of them filled with wallet sized photographs of various members of known L.A.N enemies of which there were many. "But this is about finding your father's killer…This is about making sure the person who took your father away gets punished for what he did. And this about protecting you and your brother so that the people or _person _who—"

Lee Toric paused, his pacing coming to a halt as the young boy's eyes rested on a set of photos on the table so briefly the babbling social worker and rookie agent in the room with him missed it.

But he'd seen it.

And it no longer mattered if they got the kid to officially I.D any of the suspects. There was only one face in particular he'd seen the scared, angry kid staring at. And watching the orphaned child glare at the mugshot of Padraic Telford was all the confirmation he needed.

Lee Toric turned his back to the glass, slamming his thumb against the keys to his cellphone, scrolling through his list of contacts with blurred vision. His nostrils flared, his breath came in labored bursts as he waited impatiently for the phone to stop ringing. When it finally did, when Diane Knowles voice mailbox message blared into his ears, it was all he could do to wait for the beeping tone to start yelling.

_"You stupid…._Bitch…._the last eight years of my life, my _career. _It's all over because of YOU. Because you couldn't resist getting dirty with your gun-running boyfriend, the same boyfriend that left you to fend for yourself while a couple nazi-thugs _gang-raped _you in every hole in you were born with. I had your _back…_We had a deal…In due time…in due motherfuckin time Zobelle and all his men would pay for what they did…You would settle your debt the same way you did with Clay Morrow. You remember him? He's your little biker boy's ex-President…the one you got locked up in solitary so he can spend his nights geting fucked in the ass. Well it looks like Clay's not the only one with a dick up his ass. You fucked me too, Diane. You FUCKED me…..all…you had to do was _keep.._your biker-cock sucking mouth shut…You gave me your word and you FUCKED ME in the ass. Well, I'll tell you something, _Darlin. _Whatever happens next…_that's on you…_You hear me? _Whatever happens to that Scottish prick and all his degenerate, red-neck brothers…..THE SHIT PILE OF TROUBLE THAT'LL BE COMING AT THEM FROM EVERY WHICH FUCKIN DIRECTION IS ON YOU!"

Duke Weston was the first in the conjoining room to look up at the sound of Lee Toric's cellphone smashing against the glass, shattering a zig-zag down the middle of it when he launched IT with all the murderous-rage swelling in his angry, black heart.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

Diane frowned at the cellphone in her hand, pressing the ignore button for the eighth time that day—this time without bothering to look at the caller I.D.

The late night California breeze nipping at her bare shoulders made her wish she'd brought a shawl to with the strapless, pleated sundress she was wearing to match the brand new strappy Donna Karan sandals squeezing the life out of her tender feet.

For as long as she'd known him, Duncan Kane had a lot of pride. He took pride in his work, opting to never leave anyone to doubt his success was his own and not the product of his family's billions. He took pride in his younger brother Logan, and their baby sister Lily. And although she'd been the last person to know, Diane could tell in such a short period of time that her husband took pride in how much he loved and cared for his daughter. And she knew in her heart that the child in her womb would be no different. Duncan had a lot a pride, and he always channeled it into all the right things.

Yet Diane just couldn't wrap her head around him refusing to accept that she'd walked away. She couldn't understand how someone with so much pride could swallow it whole and continue to fight for a woman that no longer wanted to be with him. It rattled her, it confused her. And as she stood there, on the front steps of Padraic's apartment, waiting on a man who always put his club first like she used to do many years before Duncan—in that very moment, Diane Knowles wondered if maybe her husband was right.

Did she really find what he'd done so unforgivable? Was she really divorcing her husband of almost five years because he fought harder than she had to keep the child she'd desperately wanted ever since the day the doctors had told her it would never again be possible? Was keeping his daughter Violet a secret really the lesser evil when compared with a man who used to spend every conversation they'd had together feeding her half-truths about the club that had inadvertently ruined her youth?

Maybe Duncan was right.

Maybe she just needed an excuse—any excuses to walk away because she wanted to make up for all the time she'd lost with Padraic, her soulmate, the one man she could never stop loving no matter how many times or how many ways his life choices hurt her. Maybe she was just an addict like Kozik, breaking a seven year sobriety and the man she was shutting out was the one she needed to let back in.

Her anniversary was today.

February fourteenth.

Duncan had picked the cheesiest time of year to get down on one knee but when he had she'd said yes. And she'd said, "I do," in an intimate ceremony on some private beach in Aruba exactly a year later on the same date. She was supposed to be celebrating her anniversary with the husband whose phone calls she'd been ignoring all day.

But she wasn't.

And she wouldn't.

The raucous rumble of a motorcycle pulling into the townhouse driveway broke her from her thoughts. Diane's head jerked up, and a strained smile curved her rose-painted lips as Padraic slid off his bike, walking towards her with a bouquet of flowers. "I know you're pissed," Padraic started, holding the roses out for her to accept. "And I'm sorry, Love. There was something me and the guys needed to take care of and we ended up having to do it sooner than I thought. I know we were supposed to spend the day together. And believe me, Baby. I _really _wanted that. But I still have the dinner reservations I made at that Italian restaurant. You remember where I took you to on our first date?"

"Of course I do," Diane nodded, her grin brightening just a little more. "We ran up a bill that was over three hundred dollars and then you told me you'd meet me outside...the only reason I ever found out _why_ is because Unser showed up to arrest you for skipping out on the bill."

"We were sixteen." Padraic chuckled. "Working part-time at the body shop wasn't getting me enough to take you somewhere nice."

"The first time you kissed me was on the front steps of a police station," Diane said, shaking her head. "After I spent the money_ I'd_ been saving to get my own car to bail your thieving ass out."

"I guess you probably should have run while you had the chance." Padraic closed the gap between them, tipping his chin down to brush his lips across hers. Lightly at first, and then deeper, gripping her waist as their tongues danced. When he pulled away, they were both breathless, a deep blush set into her cheeks and neither of the gazes wavered from the other. "I already knew once I did _that…._you'd be mine forever, Baby."

"You're right...I'm _pissed." _Diane sighed, rolling her eyes at her stomach's loud growl of betrayal. "But I'm also hungry, so….since you made the reservation already I guess we could just go..."

"_Keys,_" Padraic requested, taking them from her hand. He clicked the locks off her car, opening to the front passenger door, ushering her inside and closing it back before walking around to join her in the chair behind the wheel. "I know I've said this so many times before but it's true this time, Di. SAMCRO's getting away from all the shit that's been killing us….hurting the people we love. Today was the final step in putting all of it behind us. Things'll be different with us this time around. And I'm not letting anyone or anything get between us...I _promise..."_

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It was a miracle her mouth hadn't split open at the corners. Tara's face should have been nearly identical to Chibs Telford's from all the ear-to ear smiling she'd done all night long. The faint soreness in Jax's face was no different. Nor was the slowly fading crinkles at the corners of his eyes from watching her facial expression, from getting lost in how happy, how goofy, how almost child-like Tara looked as she watched the Broadway play based on one of her favorite books as a child.

Jax had front row seats to the only show he was interested in. The laughter bubbling from her chest when the heavily bearded _man _playing Miss Trunchbull stalked out onto the stage. The sparkle in her eyes, all the grand special effects of Matilda's magic reflecting in the deep pools of her irises when her head veered left to right, taking in everything. Tara hardly noticed him at all, save for those moments she'd enjoyed so much she couldn't help sparing his face a glance too see if he was just as amused as she was.

Tara was talking a mile a minute, didn't even flinch once at any of the handful of people who bumped into her when they left the theatre to walk back to where his bike was parked. She was too busy gushing over how much she liked the play and quizzing him on what parts he liked the most to get anxious over the many men who were staring at her because of just how fuckin beautiful she looked instead of any of the awful reasons her self-conscious mind would come up with if she'd been paying them any attention.

She didn't even put up a fight the next time he moved to cover her eyes. And when the waitress at the restaurant he'd taken her to brought over there dessert, Jax got his very first glimpse of the smoky-eyed, flirty, seductive Tara he'd been missing so much when she made a show of tying the stem from the cherry she plucked out of his sundae into a knot with her tongue.

He laughed with her when he tripped on the sidewalk outside the restaurant, slipping back, onto the pavement. And the minor scuffs on his palms, the slight pain in his right ankle were far from regrettable after the steamy kiss she'd laid on him without warning—the kiss that made him lose his footing and fall in the middle of the parking lot.

The ride back home wasn't nearly long enough. He'd slowed down when they approached the _Welcome to Charming _sign outside the town just so he could enjoy how amazing her arms wrapped tightly around him felt, so he could bask in the smell of her, her hair whipping in the wind a little longer.

And when they'd finally reached her house, Jax knew before they'd reach the top step that there was no way Tara was doing her therapy-homework tonight. She'd try sleeping in her own bed, by herself next week or maybe the week after that.

"Tonight was amazing, Jackson," Tara told him, keys jingling lightly in her hand. "_You're _amazing and I love you _so_ much...Thank you. I never would have guessed...I just..._I love you._"

Jax pulled her into his arms, hugging her against his chest. He dipped his head down, tipping hers back by her chin just enough to slant his mouth over hers. His hand stayed firm around her waist, palm pressed against the small of her back and not an inch lower as his other framed her face. It was a testament to his patience, solid proof of how much he loved her and how much he needed to know she was okay with anything they did or didn't do.

Jax hadn't lost the power either.

He'd completely given it up. Every kiss that was more than a gentle brush of their lips deepened at her behest, and every time his hands wandered it was the pads of her fingers around his wrists that guided them. Over the past few weeks he'd grown more attuned to her body than he'd ever been, even back when they were having sex. He didn't have to open his eyes to know when she was ready to stop and he didn't need her to push her hand against his chest either.

Tara's hand was on his chest now though. But she wasn't pushing him away, she was slipping her hand underneath the unbuttoned flaps of the brand new, navy plaid shirt he was wearing, scaling her nails along the sudden tautness of his well-toned stomach. Then she was pressing her palm to the back of his neck, guiding his hand towards neck, and he was gently nibbling the pulse at her throat, whispering how fuckin gorgeous she looked tonight while Tara struggled to twist the key bent behind her back into the lock on her front door.

Tara twisted the knob, pushing the door in with her weight, staying upright only because of the hand curled around her waist, holding her tight against him as Jax slowly gave into the temptation to slide his hand further down to grab a handful of the tight ass every guy with clear vision had been admiring as they walked past on that busy L.A street. Hot and heavy—blazing fuckin hot and heavy-handed for the first time in so long Jax worried he wouldn't last long if Tara decided to let things go all the way.

And neither teenager got the chance to contemplate their actions when their blind-journey towards the living room couch was stopped short by yet another person colliding with Tara's back.

"_Shit_," A familiara hissed, looking up the same time Tara spun around. Jax reached for the switch to turn the lights on without giving it much thought. And as light flooded the Knowles household, Jax found himself struggling not to laugh when he saw the look of terror in Arthur Knowles' eyes and the tomato-red hue of his girlfriend's face as they each came to terms with catching the other hooking up with someone.

"Ummm…Hi, you're Tara right?" Jackson's war with the laughter tightening his chest ceased the second his eyes finally landed on the familiar blonde holding her hand out to Tara. As Courtney Case's eyes found Jax, Tara's eyes found the faded track marks on the woman's arms.

Arthur's leather jacket squeaked as he raised a hand to scratch his head, the car keys looped around his middle finger dangling next to his ear. "Umm, G-G-Gracie, this is uh….this is my friend Courtney. We were just…uh…I was just about to take her home."

"Hello, Jackson," Courtney said, offering him a nervous, measured smile. "It's been a while Huh?"

Tara snapped her head back towards him then, the question on her mind clear in her features, even before she opened her mouth to ask, "_You know her?"_

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"I can't believe he spent years calling my mom a biker whore and now he's dating a junkie," Tara fumed, yanking back the comforter on her bed. "And _of course _the Junkie he's dating has to be Wendy's mother. She probably introduced them. Another way to make sure she has a reason to sniff around."

Jax sighed. "Weren't you _just_ defending her yesterday?"

"That wasn't about her," Tara insisted. "That was about _Lowell_….I just didn't like the way he was talking to her, that's all. I would have said the same thing if I saw him treating his mother like that. It's the principle. Doesn't mean I'm down for family dinner with Wendy and her druggie mother. What's she gonna serve us for dessert? Meth-_a-la-_needle?" Jax tried really hard not to laugh, and he failed miserably. The only silver lining was the crack in Tara's scowl. Pretty soon she was laughing with him. "Okay, I know that was really mean considering Blonde-wreck _Senior_ didn't do anything to me but you know what? Deal with it, Jax. You're not allowed to lecture me and you're not allowed to tell me I'm being dramatic so just shut up and listen."

"Okay, Babe."

Tara cocked an eyebrow at him. "Okay?"

Jax's eyes flitted towards the drawer of the nightstand on her side of the bed. "Do you think you'll have to take them tonight?" He asked her gently.

Tara paused, eyes facing the bed as she thought about it for a moment, before looking up to shake her head. "Today was good," she answered. "Today was _amazing…_everything was perfect…I _feel _perfect…because of you."

"Doctor Turner's going to want to kick my ass if I stay here tonight," Jax commented, toeing his sneakers off as he said it. He was unfastening the buttons of his shirt, shimmying his jeans down his legs, smiling at her as she watched him do exactly what she wanted him to—which was the exact opposite of what she'd promised her therapist during their last session.

"Maybe you can just stay until I fall asleep," Tara said, smirking as they both slid their legs underneath the covers. "_Technically _we're not breaking the rules if you leave afterwards. She said no sleeping_ over._"

Jax shrugged his shoulders, kissing her nose when he leaned towards her side of the bed to grab the remote for the flat screen TV Duncan had bought as a homecoming gift for her room. "Or I could stay and we can both just….._not sleep."_

Jackson Teller's master (loophole-filled) plan worked all the way through the movie reflecting off her bedroom walls in the darkness. He'd felt it, the subtle change her breathing when she'd fallen asleep without the Valium she'd been prescribed for the night terrors she'd been suffering from since the first night she tried sleeping in her own bed after coming home from the hospital. Jax flicked the TV off, clicking the lamp on his side of the bed on before slowly, gently easing his way from underneath the girl sleeping against his chest. He brushed her hair out of her face, pressing a kiss to her forehead before leaning over the bed to pull out the notebook he always kept tucked away between the bedframe and mattress. Clicking the pen he'd quietly pulled from her top drawer open, he turned to a fresh page in the journal he'd started a little over a month ago—and began writing.

Time was inconsequential as Jax scribbled away, pouring his heart and soul onto the pages, as he put a pen to paper, writing about the green-eye brunette that had somehow managed to embed herself into every fiber of his being. Jackson Teller wrote about the teenage girl in the bed beside him and how she made everything better.

Even his mother leaving and painfully not looking back like he'd asked her too.

Even the fact that his father couldn't wait to bring his mistress and their new daughter to Charming and move them into the house that felt like nothing more than a shell of what he'd once called a home as of late.

Jax wrote about how being with Tara was the only thing that made the pain of losing his brother—the strong-willed, loyal sixteen year old who lived next door to her almost bearable.

Jax would have written until the sun rose, marking a new day. He would have kept writing if not for the brunette suddenly twisting and moaning in her sleep next to him. Jax dropped the pen and notebook to the floor, sliding his back down the headboard to lay next to her, pulling her into his arms and holding her firm against the tremors wracking through her as the first wave of panic hit. Ever since the first night, he'd never let her get to the point in her nightmare where she was screaming for someone to stop because his heart just couldn't fuckin take it.

And when Tara finally settled down. When she finally grew still in his arms, cracking her teary-eyes open to look at him, when she reached a hand up to caress his face, to make sure his welcome presence wasn't the dream he'd used to escape the nightmare when she'd really been living it. It was then that Jax kissed her softly. Three times on salty, tear-stained lips—one gentle peck for each of the three words he'd whispered in her ear so many times before.

"_It's me, Babe," _Jax told her, brushing back the damp strands of hair sticking to her forehead. "I'm right here_….and I'm not going anywhere." _

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**_Maybe I'm a fool_**

_Am I stupid?_

**_Maybe I'm a fiend_**

_Addicted_**_ to it_**

**_Baby, I don't know_**

**_But _**_you're **my get right when it's wrong...**_

_**Maybe it's your smile**_

_Makes me happy_

**_Maybe it's your touch_**

_So_**_ relaxing_**

_Whatever_**_ it _**_is_

**_Without it I just can't go on _**

**_And I want you to know that..._**

* * *

MARCH through JUNE coming soon._.. (I totally just Chucky'd y'all)_

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**|REVIEW| **


	89. Chapter 74: Part III

Everybody say **Happy Birthday **to my FFNET alter-ego **Veritable Old Lady Crow. **Today, July 27, 2015 makes it officially a **year **since I posted the very first chapter of _Uncharming &amp; the Prince_. And **YOU **awesome people who have been messaging me and posting reviews with all of your honest, engaging feedback are the reason I've surpassed **600 **thousand words. **A big, BIG shout out to **_**Elbewoods!**_** You guys definitely have her to thank for talking me off the ledge a time or three.**

I write for myself. Always have, always will. But when I started writing SOA fanfiction, the reason I've kept at it for this long and with THIS much enthusiasm is because I'm writing it for **you **guys, too. So thanks for always showing your appreciation.

**_Thank you!_**

**\- Lanae**

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Chapter 74: Part **III**

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***MARCH * ~^MARCH ^~ MARCH * MARCH* MARCH ~^ MARCH ^~ MARCH * MARCH * MARCH ~*^ MARCH ^***

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_**March 6th**_

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Tara hadn't had a night terror in almost three weeks. Every night Jax would lie in bed beside her, her therapist's instructions be damned. Tara knew she was breaking the rules but somehow she just couldn't see the benefit of keeping the one person who'd saved her from the nightmare she kept reliving whenever she closed her eyes out of reach. He was her balm, her security—the only person who made her feels as if everything would be alright. And dependent or not, Tara never had to fear how much she needed Jax because the longing was always mutual.

Jax didn't need three sessions of therapy a week to know how quickly he'd fall apart without her. He didn't need to sit on a couch, across from a licensed psychiatrist to realize sleeping alone wasn't an option for him either. He had his own demons, his own scars that were more than just physical. And even at her lowest, most fragile point, Tara made everything better.

Every night Jax would sit up in bed while she slept—pen and notebook in his lap, waiting for the moment Tara needed him, waiting for when she needed him more than he needed her.

And when her nightmares finally stopped, that was when Jax's began. Damn him to Hell, but he couldn't shake it, couldn't stop worrying about it. He knew she couldn't stay down forever. And the sane part of him both loved and cherished that about her. How strong she was, how resilient. But the other part was scared shitless because somewhere between New Year's Eve and now Jackson Teller realized that he was the only one incapable of walking away. He couldn't leave her again if he tried, not even if the desire ever arose. But what if she could?

Tara didn't need him—not really. And when the smoke cleared she'd realize that for herself.

So what the fuck was he going to do if Tara woke up one day and decided she didn't _want _him?

_"You're doing it again," _Tara murmured, reaching a hand up to brush her knuckles along his cheek. His pensive blue eyes flitted down from the spot above her headboard to meet a softening green. Jax caught her wrist before she could move her hand, turning his face to kiss her palm. "You can stop worrying about me, you know. It's been three weeks, Jackson. No pills. No nightmares. And after tonight, no more handsome biker sleeping in my bed because I _need _him to. From now on, it's only when I _want."_

Jax tilted his head, a playful gleam glittering in his eyes when he leaned forward, knees dipping into the bed as he reached for her. He was determined to show her that him staying the night was what she wanted right then. He pulled her by her waist until his hips rested firmly in the warmth between her bare thighs. His fingers were threaded in her damp, vanilla-honey scented locks, his lips were on hers, their tongues were tangled and it was all he could do not to slip his hands underneath the fold of the oversized |SAMCRO| T-shirt she was wearing—his shirt.

When Tara lifted a leg, curling it around his waist to pull him in tighter, Jax nearly forgot alll about the point he'd been trying to make to her. Tara gasped, a deep blush setting into her cheeks, creeping down to her neck, and her bottom lip was caught between her teeth as she wondered to herself if he could tell how wet her panties were through the jeans he'd fastened around his waist ten minutes prior.

Tara had gone over many things during her sessions with Dr. Turner. And discussing her feelings about sex after everything Joshua Kohn put her through resulted in a lot crying, yelling, blushing and staring everywhere but in her therapists eyes. The wholly supportive therapist adamantly encouraged Tara to talk to Jax about what was going through her head.

But aside from the first time he'd tried to take her shirt off and the twenty minute freak-out that included cursing him out about Wendy Case, Tara had yet to broach the biggest part of why she stopped him every time she'd been the one to start it. Jax stopped initiating everything after that first time. When she wanted more, he followed her lead and over a short period of time she didn't even have to push him away because Jax was already pulling back to kiss her forehead before the panic set in. It was something eerie, unsettling about catching a glimpse of her bedroom ceiling. The light above her bed, where cops discovered a camera. Knowing it wasn't there anymore, knowing Kohn wasn't alive to continue watching her didn't stop her mind from drifting to that scary place whenever she neared the point where Jackson Teller's touch would block out everything. He truly had a gift. The gift of drowning out everything that wasn't him and her connecting with each other with just his touch. She wanted to disconnect from the rest of the world because nothing else and _no one _else mattered.

She wanted it so fuckin badly.

"I'm _staying," _Jax announced, rolling off of her when she zoned out. Tara quickly kneeled her way to his side of the bed, curling her hand around his wrists to keep him from unbuckling his belt and taking his jeans off. "And it's just because I know you want me to. You're the strongest person I know, Babe. I _never _doubted you'd get through this. But…Tara, I don't think you're ready. Don't get pissed at me for saying this but I _don't. _You need more time."

Tara smiled, eyebrows slowly rising up her forehead. "You sure it's me you're worried about? Don't get _pissed _at me, Baby but I think you're the one that doesn't want to sleep alone tonight. And the fact that I'm even saying this about _you _means pigs are probably flying in the sky right now but…"

Tara bit down on her bottom to lip, hoping to stifle her giggle when Jax gasped. Her touch was feather-light, so soft she wondered how he'd even felt it when she slid her hand over the crotch of his jeans to feel the rigid heat still tenting the denim. "…._for once…_I don't think it's about sex either."

"It's not about sex," Jax explained, placing a hand over the one still in his lap. "And it's not just about JT either...but if you _want _it to be about sex..."

His fingers twitched with the urge to curl hers inward, to guide her in alleviating the throbbing ache he'd been taking care of on his own for what felt like forever even though the wait was different this time. Maybe it was because he knew what she tasted like now. Because he knew how good it felt to be inside of her—the hot, wet, vice-grip of both sets of her lips, the way she milked him dry with her mouth and the pleasure-pit between her thighs. Maybe that was what made waiting even harder, what made _him _harder this time around.

Or maybe he was just the same pussy-hound, an asshole who couldn't go a day without it.

Either way, Jax wanted it bad. No he needed it—he was desperate for it, and with every day she grew closer to giving in, to being ready again, it made it that much more of a challenge to let her call all the shots, to let her have all the control. Especially when he had lots of idle time to reminisce on just how much Tara loved it when _he _was the one in control.

"_Jackson_." Tara bumped his shoulder, nodding her head towards the vibrating cellphone on her nightstand when he blinked twice, finally looking at her. "_Your phone_…it's probably your father." Jax could sense her frown without turning back towards her as he clicked the ignore button, plopping the phone back down underneath her bedroom lamp. "You have to go home, Jackson," Tara encouraged gently. "Go be with your family."

"They're _not_ my family," Jax barked, scowling at her bedroom floor. "They never will be."

"_She _isn't," Tara conceded, rubbing his shoulder. She slid a hand underneath his chin, gently turning his face towards her. Gazing into his hardened eyes, Tara told him, "She might not _ever _be your family. I'm not saying this because she will or because I want you to see her that way. I _know _she can never replace….you have _one _mother, Jackson. What I said before? I stand by it. You only ever get _one. _But that doesn't apply to siblings. And no matter how much you hate her, or how much you hate your father for being with her….you just found out you have a sister. That means you're a big brother again. And based on everything I know about you _and_ Thomas….this little girl really lucked out. Because you're the best brother anyone could ever have."

"I've only ever seen a picture of them," Jax fumed, reaching up to lace her hand on his shoulder with his own. "And now he just decides to move them into our house. To move _her _in to my mother's house. I don't give a shit whose name is on the deed. Gemma's the one who picked it out….she's the one that kept it clean and hosted every pancake breakfast or club dinner he asked her to. It was _just_ a house when we moved in. She's the one that made it into a home…she raised _his _sons in her home while JT was off on runs every other week. And what now? He thinks I'm supposed to be okay with his road pussy moving in down the hall from me?"

"I'm not saying it's right or wrong," Tara replied. "I'm just saying you should give whatever it _is _a try. For your sister…for the father you chose to stay with instead of leaving with Gemma. Something I can't even pretend to be sorry about. I know he made mistakes, Jax. My father's made just as many if not more. That doesn't mean they should be miserable for the rest of their lives. Whoever Maureen is, he loves her. And I know from experience, just how painful it is not to be with the person you love more than anything. We can't even go a day without seeing each other. You really expect a few love letters and photos going back and forth to be enough for _them?" _

"I found a box of old letters the other day," Jax confessed. "The ones he used to write to my mom whenever he left or when it took him longer than he planned to come back. I just don't get how they went from that to…._Clay…._and…all the fucked up shit that came afterwards..."

"Do you want to know what I think?" Tara asked. With the look she was casting him, Jax couldn't resist pulling her onto his lap, tucking her hair behind her ear to kiss the sweet spot on her neck. The longing swirling in the blues of his eyes when they met hers left no room to doubt just how much he wanted it—every thought she had, and every touch she'd grace him with. "I think we're better human beings when we're with the person we're supposed to be with. And your Dad….and Clay, they didn't….I have to believe there's someone out there for everyone… maybe Gemma was with JT so they could make you…so they could make _you _for _me…._but maybe they weren't meant to last…maybe they're meant to be with other people… someone who sees through all the bad shit they've done and all the scars from their past and bring out the best in them."

Jax's mouth twitched at the corners. He was still fighting a smile of incredulity as his eyebrows rose. "That you're way of saying you think my mom's off somewhere with husband number two?"

Tara rolled her eyes. "I'm _saying _you're dad has a right to try and be happy…and you should support him….or at least show up for your sister. I know what it feels to have a big brother….or at least I _did," _Tara mused, her smile faltering. "…thing is…Opie's not even really my brother…and I know it's hard to miss what you've never had….but I know he helped me through a lot…I know he's always been there for me...even when _you _weren't. He's family and he'll always be no matter how much of a dick he's being right now because he's hurting...So I'm not telling you to be there for your sister because she's your blood. I'm telling you because I know _you, _Jackson. You're a beautiful and honorable and loyal. Family is what you do best, Baby. And I don't care if I have to bar your from my bed, or from being with me at all. I'll suffer if it means stopping you from turning your back on the family that matters. You were going to walk away from me because of SAMCRO, Jackson. We're talking about the people living in the house you call _home…_those are the people who should matter. I would _never _try to take you away from them."

Jax framed her face in his hand, brushing his lips across hers. Gentle strokes until a tremor coursed through the hand. He was fighting the urge to slip his hands down the waistband of her panties. It was the biggest challenge he'd ever faced as her shirt rose up when she straddle his waist. Pulling back, he kissed the tip of her nose. "_I love you so much," _Jax said, shaking his head. "You're right, Babe. I'm the one that needs _you._ When the fuck did that happen?"

Tara's smile fully reached the sparkle in her eyes then. Her mouth fused with his, once, then twice more before she gently bumped her forehead against his. Their faces were pressed together, nose to nose, lips barely a breath away when she whispered to him, "_Your therapy starts tonight."_

Then without warning she slid out of his lap, grabbing his hand in hers to walk him towards her bedroom door, gently pushing him out into the hallway. "I'll see you tomorrow…._I love you, too._"

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Jax waited several seconds, hoping for a sudden crack in her bedroom door that never came. It wasn't until he heard the subtle rustling of her sheets, the light click of her lamp being turned off that he sighed. He was already dreading the ride home to meet his new sister and JT's new Old lady. He was already contemplating the likelihood of Opie's window being locked and the odds of him being thrown out on his ass for sneaking in to sleep on his bedroom floor so he didn't have to go home.

When he heard the top drawer to Tara's nightstand open through the door, it was merely the icing on seven-tier cake of diversion—excuses to stay right where he was or find somewhere else to be that wasn't the house he grew up with. Jax paused, all but leaning against her bedroom door as he listened for the rattling of pills inside the prescription bottle he knew she'd reached for. Minutes passed until he heard her put the pills back, and slid the drawer shut without the pop of the top being taken off in between. She hadn't taken the pills, but she'd been thinking about it. Part of her worried she'd need them because he wasn't there like all the other times she didn't need them.

And that was more than enough.

But Jax didn't open her bedroom door. He didn't knock or shoot her text as if he wasn't still there to ask her if she was okay. He knew Tara too well. She'd accuse him of smothering her, or using her as an excuse not to deal with his own issues. She might have been right, too. But that didn't change what he'd heard through her door. And it definitely didn't stop him from changing directions, to head for the landry room, where they'd had a rather memorable time on top of the washer machine. He grabbed fresh sheets, and to his pleasant surprise a pillow, before heading back towards the front room of the dark, quiet house.

He was just unfolding the sheets to spread them across the living room couch when glass shattered across the room, and a woman gasped, causing him to look up. Diane was standing in the entryway leading into the kitchen, in the middle of the cup of tea she'd been holding that was now a wet, ceramic-shard mess all over the floor. "Jesus Christ," Diane hissed, glaring. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"Sorry," Jax muttered, swallowing his laugh as he turned to pick up the pillow he'd sat on the coffee table.

"What are you doing?" Diane asked him, walking further into the room. "You and Gracie get into a fight?"

Jax shook his head. "Doctor Turner's been telling her to try sleeping on her own for weeks now," he answered. "We finally decided to give it a shot tonight. Figure it's time since she hasn't had a nightmare in almost three weeks."

"That doesn't explain why you're sleeping on the couch," Diane prodded, standing directly behind it. "You _do _still have a bedroom right? The whole point is for her to try sleeping on her own…without the comfort of knowing you're right there. That way she can _really _be on her own. You sleeping out here defeats the purpose."

"Not if she doesn't know I'm still here," Jax explained, winking at her.

"_I'm_ here if she needs me," Diane told him. "You don't have to hover. I know you think I'm being a bitch but I'm not. This isn't about you at all. _You _might want to consider a few sessions with Turner, too. I know you two love each other but codependency isn't healthy for either one of you. But especially Tara bec—"

"_I don't care_," Jax interrupted, tossing the pillow in his hand onto the couch a little harder than necessary. "And keep your voice down unless you _want _her to know I'm still here."

"Jackson—"

"Look," Jax said, holding a hand up as he cut her off yet again. "You might as well save your breath, Darlin. I'm staying _right _here tonight. If she sleeps straight through, I'll find another excuse not go home..._tomorrow. _ If not? You won't have to worry about me messing up your brother's couch because I'll be in there will her like every other night."

Diane cocked an eyebrow at him. "Why do you need an _excuse _not to go home?"

Jax smirked at her, both his eyebrows rising in challenge. "Why'd you asked Tara to lie and tell _Pat _you weren't home both times he showed up here last week?"

Diane squared her shoulders, opting to respond with the most maturity she could muster up. She flashed him her middle finger, and growled when he laughed at her. "Whatever, _Shithead," _Diane snarked, rubbing her belly as she walked towards the back hallway leading to her bedroom. "I know you're the one who drank my apple juice. Tara _hates _it and Arthur's allergic. Next time I'm putting citrus magnesium in it. Then you'll be camped out in her _bathroom _instead of outside her bedroom. Make yourself useful...clean up that bullshit decaffeinated tea I have to drink thanks to spawn in my stomach."

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

_**March 7th**_

* * *

Jax woke up to sound of keys clanging against the coffee table, someone hissing a curse underneath his breath, and the sound of liquid pouring onto the floor right next to his ear. When he opened his eyes, Arthur Knowles was busy mopping up the spilled coffee pouring off the surface, his other hand swiping the keys that caused the overturning of the paper cup aside.

Jax sat upright on the couch, gathering up the thin sheet around him to keep it out the puddle of coffee on the floor. And for the first time since his days of sleeping of a junkie's daughter he found himself squinting his eyes at the nervous expression on the man in front of him. He didn't look drunk, nor high and yet the mistrustful teenager couldn't resist giving his girlfriend's father the third degree.

"Oh, Hey Jackson," Arthur said, standing up straight with a coffee cup full of soaked napkins. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. I was—"

"You were out all night," Jax interjected, staring him down. "You're just getting back in now at what…._five _in the morning. Didn't Tara tell you I wasn't sleeping over tonight?"

Arthur snorted. "As opposed to all the other nights you weren't supposed to be here but snuck back in anyway? What, did you just get here a little before me? Or did you ignore her therapist's orders _again _and stay…_again?"_

Jax rolled his eyes, arms crossing. "That's not the point," he argued. "The point is you _are _supposed to be here in case she needs _you."_

"I've made my peace with this," Arthur said, moving to plop down on the couch next to him. "I let her down….I wasn't here. For all this time I wasn't there and now I _am….._I want to be _here…._I want to be here for her. And I let her know I'm here for her whenever she needs me. But Jackson, I'm not…._who _she needs right now. I'm not the person she relies on. I'm not proud of it. And I don't like it, but I made it this way, so right now all I can do is stand by….I can wait until she needs me." Arthur raised a hand to his chest, lightly pressing a palm to it. "Until she needs _me," _Arthur stressed. "When she needs me I'll be right here, God willing. When there's something you can't give her or do for her, I'm at the ready, I swear. But she doesn't need _me. _So I'm not ignoring her. I didn't get a new girlfriend and decide to cast her off. This isn't me crawling off a bar floor to creep my way home. This is just…_I've made my peace with it." _

A few minutes passed before Jax finally nodded. When he did, Arthur's smile still held a touch of nerves as he leaned towards him, lowering his voice a bit more when he added, "But between me and you, I'm pretty sure Gracie _hates _Courtney so I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell her I never came home. She might take it the way _you're _taking it. And I want to talk to her about….I just want to talk to her about it on my own time. Okay?"

Jax shook his head, blue eyes rolling towards the ceiling. "Tara doesn't care if you're screwing someone. If anything she's relieved you're not still mourning her mother and taking your shit out on her," the sixteen year old lectured, frowning at him. "All Tara's worried about right now is you getting a transplant. And when she's not worrying about that, she's worried about how you'll manage to stay sober when you're hooking up with a Junkie. She doesn't give a shit that you're dating. It's about _who _you're dating."

"Oh."

"Yeah, and getting a transplant is the _only _thing that's out of your control," Jax warned, glaring at him. "I watched Wendy deal with her mother choosing drugs over her own daughter over and over again. And I watched _you _do the same damn thing with Tara. Different poison. Same fucked up parenting. She loves you, Man. But Tara always seems to love and support the people who give her the most shit. And No, I'm not denying that I'm one of them."

Was one of them.

Never again, he promised himself.

"I put down the bottle, Jackson," Arthur told him. "I know it took me way too goddamn long to do it, but I did it. Courtney entered a program not long before I did. We both got a lot to make up for with both of our daughters. And yeah, we're both addicts. But that doesn't mean we can't...I'm not going to relapse."

"You know, there's a reason convicts aren't allowed to hang around other criminals when they're out on parole," Jax mused. "It's because they're more likely to end up right back where they started. No matter how many promises they make. No matter how hard forgiveness and a second chance was to come by…they end up doing the same shit that got them in trouble. But you're not the one I'm worried about. _Tara…._she's the one that gets shit on if you slip up. So I don't care that I'm sixteen, and I don't care if I have to rob a fuckin bank. You screw up again, she's out of here….Or _you're _out of here. And I'm not the only one that'll make sure it happens. You think about that the next time you're jones'in for a shot from the top shelf."

Arthur's smile spread wide from one ear to the other. The elder man shook his head left to right, a deep chuckle rumbling in his chest. "This isn't how this is supposed to work," he replied. "I'm supposed to be threatening _you."_

Jax finally cracked a measured smile, but his own laughter was short-lived as he caught sight of the young brunette turning the corner, yawning and rubbing sleep out of her eyes. "Don't worry, Art," Jax mumbled, already bracing himself for the storm when he saw Tara's eyes bounce from his putrescence to the pillow and sheets behind her father. "I think your daughter's got that covered."

"_You _slept _here?" _Tara shrieked. Her green eyes went from round with surprise to narrow with anger in seconds. "_Jackson!"_

Arthur turned to glance at his daughter. "Morning, Gracie!"

Tara waved him off. "Hi, Dad," she half-muttered, stalking into the room. Her arms were already crossed over her chest when she came to a stop behind the couch they were both sitting on. "What the Hell, Jackson?!"

Arthur chose that moment to lean towards Jax, holding a hand in front of his mouth as he whispered, "_I know that face, Son. It was her mother's look our last five years of marriage. That face is _Not _your friend."_

"Yeah, No kidding." Jax rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to flash a middle finger at the man choosing his impending demise as the perfect opportunity to slip away without—

_"And when did _you _get here?" _Tara questioned, turning to shoot daggers at the man who didn't make into the back hallway quite fast enough.

Arthur was a stammering mess, scratching an imaginary itch at the top as his head, eyes flitting various places in the living room—unable to remain on his daughters scowling face more than a few seconds at a time. "I um," Arthur cleared his throat loudly. "Courtney and Wen—her daughter. They finally found a place and most of their stuff was in a storage unit at the place down the block from Oswald's so I met up with them after work and helped bring the stuff to their new apartment. It's a nice distance from here and after all the unpacking and sh—_stuff_—_"_

"You can use the word _shit," _Tara commented. "It's not like you haven't used that and pretty much every other curse word plus a few you made up especially for Mom. I don't have virgin ears or anything."

Arthur turned to glare at the sixteen year old boy laughing behind his hand. Her words weren't meant to hurt him at all, and everyone present knew as much. Tara wasn't being spiteful. But then she wasn't exactly being warm and fuzzy about it either.

"Umm…right. So long story short, I ended up crashing on their couch—"

"The one they pulled out of storage?" Tara prodded, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Was it comfortable? Or do you think Jackson will need to buy a blow up bed for when he's crashing on his best friend's floor because his girlfriend banned his ass from ever coming to her house again?"

Arthur turned to look at Jax, grinning when he saw the teenager sigh. He couldn't have been more subtle with his gloating if he'd stuck his tongue out and said "HA! YOU'RE IT!"

"You planning on going to work in yesterday's clothes?" Tara asked her father, still staring quizzically at him. "Moving boxes and unpacking _shit_ all night. You probably smell."

"Right. Well I'm gonna go get ready for sch—_work," _Arthur stammered, scratching his head again, walking backwards to the safe haven of the hallway. "I'm going to shower and get ready for work. And _you, _young lady better go get ready for school!"

Jax was laughing again.

"It's Friday, Dad," Tara deadpanned, rolling her eyes. "Me and Jax always cut school on Fridays."

"_Seriously?" _Arthur stopped, walking back into the living room. "Gracie, you can't"—Arthur's bounced to the teenage boy sitting on his couch—"_You really think that's good for her? Fu—_screwing _up her education? You just finished giving me a speech—"_

"About how you better not start drinking again," Tara interrupted, losing the battle to keep from smiling at her boyfriend. "Or suddenly decide you want to shoot shit into your arm and snort things up your nose like your new girlfriend used to. You go back to being a drunk bastard, you'll never see me again. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I heard the whole thing. You two weren't supposed to know that though. I was supposed to be pretending I didn't come out of my room last night for something to drink and see Jax sleeping on the couch because then I wouldn't be able to curse him out for not going home to meet his little sister like he _promised _he would when we first found out she was coming. And him threatening you to protect me just makes it _that _much harder to scream at him even though knowing he was out here in case I needed him was _exactly _what I needed."

"You see?" Jax exclaimed, widening his eyes at the pregnant woman walking in behind Tara's father. "That's why I ignore you when you forget that you're a _first_ time mother. She needed me here."

"She _wanted _you here," Diane argued, yawning as she walked past her brother. "She _wants _you. What a person wants and what they _need _isn't always synonymous. I know what's best for her even if she doesn't," Diane stressed, stopping to kiss her niece on the cheek. Her eyes were sad when they fell on the defiant expression in the blue pair staring up at her. "I know what's best for _both _of you even if you don't. You have to be able to function on your own. Without each other because life isn't promised to anyone. This codependency thing you two have going on? I've been there. I lived it. I'm _reliving _it….so I know what I'm talking about."

"I love you, Diane," Tara told the woman walking past her to head towards the kitchen. "I love you and my Dad," she continued, glancing over at her father. "But me and Jax….we're _us. _We're not Diane and Padraic. And we're not you and Mom."

Jax reached a hand over the couch to grab hers. He waited until Tara turned to look at him, then brought it to his mouth to kiss the back of it. "_I love you."_

Tara smiled. "I love you, too….which is why I'm still not letting you off the hook for not going home."

"I _am _home, Babe."

Jax snickered when he caught sight of her father's cheeks going red, as he watched Arthur scurry from the room. "You know….watching you and your Old man really makes me and JT seem a little less dysfunctional."

Tara smacked him on top of the head. "_Shut up, _Teller," she hissed. "At least I'm not hiding from mine, Asshole."

Jax laughed harder, shaking his head. "Nope, you're just the head of _his _household."

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

Chastity was already waiting for them at the bottom of the school steps when they pulled into the parking lot. Tara snapped her helmet off, handing it to Jax as she watched Chastity kiss a girl she didn't recognize on the cheek before the pretty, light-eyed stranger bounded up the steps, heading into the building while they walked up.

"Oh Great! You're here!" Chastity squealed, bright eyes ballooning. "If you would have shown up ten minutes sooner like I _asked _you to, I could have introduced you to the new girl. She's a nerd just like _you,_ Knowles," the excited sophomore gushed, practically jumping up and down. "So she wanted to rush inside and get a handle on how to find her classes so she won't be late for any of them. Especially since she's transferring so far into the Spring semester."

"Good morning to you, too Chaz," Tara said, eyeing her curiously. "You asked me to come here early because you think I need a new study partner? Because if so, Jackson's got it covered believe it or not. I mean he's no _Leonard_—"

"_HEY!" _Jax shouted, nudging his girlfriend's shoulder. "Does Leonard _reward _you when you get the answer correct?"

"Who's rewarding _who,_ Teller?" Tara challenged, eyebrow rising.

"You two can flirt with each other later," Chastity interrupted, stepping between them before Jax could grab at Tara's waist. "It has been _way _too long. Your girlfriend's a fuckin tease," the anxious blonde spouted, jutting a thumb toward a scowling Tara. "No offense, Tee but you are. And half the chicks I would go for have dedicated their lives to torturing her because they can't have you. Or they're torturing her because they're freakin _BFF's_ with someone who wants you. Either way there's no love for Chastity. It's like I'm fuckin destined to live up to my name. Be all pure and shit. My ex has probably been through half the freshman at my old school already—even the _straight_ ones!"

"I'm confused," Jax said, eyebrows threading together as he voiced what both he and Tara were feeling. "Did you want us to come here early so we could meet the girl you're hooking up with? Or did you want us here to see if we _approve _of you hooking up with her? Or do you want my blessing to hook up with Tara? If it's the last one, the answer's NO. I'm not getting any as it is."

"Class act as always, Teller," Tara droned, snickering despite her disapproving glare.

"I wanted _you _here, Teller." Chastity rolled her eyes, nodding at Tara. "I just know you two come as a set. Can't get one without the other. I need a favor, Jax. I need _two _favors actually."

"Is it something I can do after my first period appointment with Mrs. Palmer?" Jax asked, smirking. "Because I won't getting any _favors_ from my girlfreindif I don't keep my promise to put in for Honor's English with her next year."

"She probably already put you in," Tara beamed, gripping his shoulder. "Mrs. Braithwaite mentioned what an amazing writer you are when she saw you walk me to class the other day. She said if you work a little harder you could even make AP if you wanted—"

"Focus people!" Chastity snapped her fingers. "We're talking about me and the new girl right now."

"Who is she anyway?" Tara finally asked, biting her lip to keep from teasing her friend about her obvious major crush.

"Her name's Lyla Harrington," Chastity gushed, all but clapping her hands together or fluttering her eyelashes like something out of a cartoon. "Turns out her dad is a royal fuckin disappointment just like mine. Her parents are still battling it out in family court post-_nanny-_gate, but her and her mom just moved in across the street from my aunt. Auntie made me and Katy come with her to bring over a Bundt cake for our new neighbors because she's _clearly _been watching too many episodes of Desperate Housewives. But that's how we met her. And that's how I ended up volunteering to show her around, and help her adjust to Charming even though I've been here five minutes myself."

"You really have a hard on for this chick, Huh?" Jax snickered, sliding away before the jab to his side Tara sent his way could land. "You want me to give you pointers on how to how to bag her?"

"Her name is _Lyla, _you guys." Chastity's eyes were fluttering at last. "Her name's even prettier than yours Tara. Means dark princess in Persian, Did you know that? It kinda makes me wonder if she's a natural blonde since her mother's kind of a brunette. But then that's not the _only _thing I'm wondering about. Which is why I need _you _to do me a favor, Teller…._Two _favors actually."

"Hey, I'm all about the service, Darlin." Jax winked, nodding his head up at her. "What you need?"

"I need you to flirt with her," Chastity blurted, rolling her eyes when she saw Tara's expression. "Oh relax, he won't be doing it for real. Well, not for real as in he actually follows through on anything. They call him Prince Charming for Christ sake, and apparently that's your fault. Just like the fact that my loyalty to you means I'll be going to spring formal next month by my damn self if I can't go with Lyla."

"You want me to flirt with your _soulmate_?" Jax teased, laughing at her. "For what? You're the one that likes her."

"Obviously," Chastity agreed. "I _do_, b—"

"It's a little early for _I do's _don't you think?" Tara piled on, laughing with Jax.

"This is serious, you guys!" Chastity insisted, sighing. "I keep thinking she's into me but then she has a photo of Brad freakin Pitt from the movie Fight club plastered on her bedroom wall and—"

"You've been in her bedroom _already?" _Jax clucked his tongue, shaking his head. "Jesus. Didn't waste any time, Did you Chaz? I hope you bought her dinner at least."

Tara giggled. "Bedroom's fine, Jackson," teasing her boyfriend this time. "It's not like _you've _been staring up at my ceiling lately…"

"How can I forget?" Jax grumbled, mock-scowling at her. "Me and my right hand are a lot closer than we used to be."

"Ewww! I don't want to hear this!" Chastity held her hand up. "I just want to know if she's…_you know_. And every straight girl in town seems to want to go for a ride with Prince Charming—"

_"Your new best friend included," _Tara mumbled under her breath, green eyes fixed on the other blonde they knew that was walking up to them. "Speaking of…here she comes."

"Hey," Wendy said, waving at the group of three. Her eyes left Jax's before he could look away from her like he usually did whenever Tara was standing next to him. Therefore she missed his nod of greeting, her brown eyes focused on the one person in their circle who was actually happy to see her. "Lowell has a doctor's appointment today. His mother's dropping him off a little later. I talked to Court and she said it's cool if I host a little dinner slash get together thing. Invite you and Katy, and your aunt over to our new place. My way of saying thanks for letting me crash with you until we found a spot."

Chastity smiled. "Cool."

"I should warn you, her new boyfriend's probably going to be there," Wendy added. "Arthur's pretty cool though even if he is awkward as Hell. And if Lowell's up to it after therapy, he'll be there and his mother, too I guess since she's bringing him over."

"Sounds like a party!" Chastity beamed. "Date and time?"

"Tomorrow night," Wendy turned to glance between Jax and Tara, eyes landing on Tara last. "You should come, too. And Jax…you guys were there for me, too. I'm not a five-star chef or any shit like that. But I make a pretty good lasagna."

Tara's laugh was a barking sound. "I've been told I make a good lasagna, too. I wonder if Arthur likes mine _better."_

"You coming, Jax?" Wendy turned to look at him. "It's just a dinner. To say thanks—"

"I think you thanked him enough," Tara interjected. "…Or at least you _tried _to."

_"Tara,"_ Chastity moaned, frowning. "Come on…"

"My Old man's birthday is tomorrow," Jax replied, shrugging his shoulders. "It won't be the usual Friday night rager at Club Reaper this time around. It's gonna be real family friendly….me being family and all, I gotta show up."

"Of course." Wendy nodded. "I guess I'll….well I'll make you a plate or something. Bring it by the clubhouse…I can bring you one, too Tara. Then you can test it out yourself."

"Your father's birthday party," Chastity said, hopeful eyes fixed on Jax. "That's favor number one. I was hoping you'd give me the okay to invite Lyla as my plus one. I was going to ask Opie but he's being a jerk right about now. Although I guess I kinda deserve it….But yeah…he's mad at me."

"Join the club," Tara grumbled.

Jax cocked an eyebrow in surprise. "What's he got to be pissed at you about?"

A motorcycle rumbled to a stop a few feet away from them just then. They all turned to watched Donna pull a helmet from her head, handing it her boyfriend. Opie blindly accepted it. He was still scowling in their direction, at Chastity in particular when Donna rose up on her toes to kiss him goodbye.

"_Hey," _Donna mumbled, walking towards them as Opie made a U-turn, peeling out of the lot. One by one her eyes bounced from Wendy to Tara, then Jax—her cheeks turning a flaming red when they met the guilty expression on Chastity face. "Principal Mason's on the warpath ever since that wedding day prank. You guys better head inside unless you want detention for the rest of the school year."

Together they all watched as she rushed past them, all but taking the stairs three at a time with her tiny legs.

"Wow," Wendy commented, wriggling her eyebrows. "I never would have thought Donna was a few tequila shots away. As crazy as she gets when another girl even _looks _at Opie—"

"Shut up," Chastity snapped. "It's not even what you think."

Wendy laughed. "You sure?"

Jax blinked had twice, almost certain he'd seen steam seeping out of Tara's ears. . "Congratulation on your new house, Wendy."

"It's more of an apartment but thanks," Wendy replied, surprise shaping the smile on her lips.

"At least now I don't have to worry about you camping out in Jax's bedroom anymore. I'm the one who's going to need his place to crash two months from now when your junkie mother does something to make my dad relapse."

Wendy's mouth open and shut, lips smacking together as she nodded her head once. "_Fuck you, _Tara," she said, taking several steps back, breaking the circle. Wendy held her hands up. "I'm done apologizing to you. And I'm done kissing your ass because I want to make things work so me and Jax can be fr—"

_"Of course," _Tara snorted. "That's all you're after anyway. You just want to be close to Jax again. You're not sorry at all."

"You're wrong," Wendy hissed, bumping shoulders when she walked past her. She didn't see Jax reach and brace his hands on Tara's shoulders to keep her from charging after her. "I was sorry, Tara. I was _really _sorry. Not anymore though. You can hate me all you want. At this point I really don't give a shit."

"Jesus, she even talks like you," Tara hissed, turning her glare on her boyfriend.

"Are you ever going to get tired of carrying that chip on your shoulder?" Chastity asked, glaring at Tara for the first time since she met her. "I swear you and Opie are siblings. Always so fuckin angry all the time. But at least _he _has a reason."

"And I _don't?" _Tara barked.

Chasity shook her head. "Are you perfect? Never made a mistake? Your father treated you like—"

"That's right Chastity. He's my _father…_he's my family_," _Tara bellowed, pointing hard at the boy standing next to her. "And before you give me a speech about the boyfriend being the one to blame, I _know _he fucked up! I forgave him because I still love him. Or maybe I'm still _trying _to forgive him because I love him. It doesn't matter. Wendy's not my family, and even if I woke up tomorrow and decided I really like eating pussy I wouldn't _date _her trilfing ass either. I don't owe her shit. I forgave Jackson because I _love _him, Chaz. With her—"

"_You have no obligation to try,_" Chastity interjected, voicing the angry brunette's exact thought. "No matter what Wendy was going through, no matter how much she was hurting at the time, she did a bad thing. Wendy _and _Jackson did a very shitty thing to you. But Jackson is the one you can forgive because you love him. The same way I'd forgive my Daddy if he showed up here today to tell me how sorry he is for dropping me off on my grandmother's front steps because his bible thumping bitch of a wife can't deal with the fact that I like kissing girls instead of guys. I love him, so that means I'm obligated to try, right? Well what about _you, _Tara? Maybe I don't give a shit how much you were hurting when you fucked with my head on New Year's Eve just to make yourself feel better. And maybe I don't care that you were overwhelmed when you yelled at me for thinking you were a _fuckin dyke…._maybe you don't get a pass for acting out when you're hurt either." Chastity looked away from Tara's stony expression to address the quiet biker standing at her side. "Can I bring her or not?"

Jax nodded, offering her a smile. "I'm still not sure I'm going but if I do show up….I promise to turn on the Teller charm. She's _definitely _gay if she doesn't go for me," He joked, hoping to lighten the mood. "You know how fuckin irresistible I am."

"Yeah," Chastity snorted, her small faltering as she turned to glance at the brunette staring down at the ground. "You have chicks ready to kill each other over you….._I'll see y'all later."_

Neither one of them spoke until Chastity was all the way at the top of the steps.

"_You're_ the who was with me," Tara said quietly. "You're the one who cheated on me. I get that. I get that I should still be pissed at you instead of her. And I know she's sorry about what she did. Maybe you thought I was breaking up with you when I sent you away. Maybe it wouldn't have mattered to you at the time. But I thought we were _friends, _Jackson. Me and Wendy were friends. When Sarah left, I thought I was done worrying about my _friend_ trying to screw the boy I'm in love with every time I need a moment to myself. I told you to figure out what you wanted. And maybe what happened with you and Wendy was the only way you'd know for sure. I don't know, Jax. I mean you shot Ima down…and Maize. They were there, too. Donna told me…she heard them talking...that's why they hate me even more now. Because you told Maize you used to think about me when you were with her. I don't know if what happened…._needed _to happen. All I know is that I let my guard down. I ignored the voice in my head telling me to put aside my guilt over walking away after Thomas and give you the choice between me or your best friend. I ignored my intuition and I invited her to sleep at my house. I helped her study for her midterms. She wasn't just _your _friend anymore. She was mine. And she fucked me over. The second her boyfriend was in trouble, she tried to take mine. You know it, and I know it, too. So I don't care if she's not in love with you. I'm sick of people trying to convince me that it was just sex, or almost-sex, or a sad timeout. It _hurts, _Jackson. It hurts the same no matter what you call it."

Jax stood in front of her. He grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers with her. Reaching for her face with the other, he tilted her chin up until she met his eyes. "I know," He murmured. "I'm s—"

"_Stop apologizing_," Tara snapped. She gripped his face harder than necessary when she kissed him. "I already forgave you. I didn't have a choice. Not forgiving you means I can't be with you. And not being with you means being more fuckin miserable than you feel every time I _forget _that I forgave you and flip out. _I'm _sorry, Jackson. I'm sorry for telling you I forgive you and then doing _this _every time she comes anywhere near you. Or every time I think about it when I see a girl smiling at you when you're ringing up all the shoes you flirted them into buying. I can't help it. And maybe she couldn't help running back to you when Lowell got hurt, but I don't fuckin care. I'm just not that good a person. I can't forgive both of you. I can't be friends with the girl who tried to screw my boyfriend. Not right now. Not until I'm ready to trust her. And that might not _ever _happen."

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* * *

Lee Toric's eyes snapped open, hand instantly reaching for the gun resting in front of the lamp on the side of the seedy motel room bed. The banging on the door grew more persistent the longer it took him to throw his legs off the bed, tripping into the wall in a hungover stupor when he stepped on the empty Skotch bottle on the floor.

He didn't bother checking through the peephole. Instead he aimed his gun chest-level as he yanked the door open. Diane Knowles' eyes widened, her hands instinctively clutching her stomach when she took several long steps back. It wasn't until he lowered the gun in hand, sneering at her from the doorway that Diane walked from around the pillar, storming her way into his motel room.

"I'm on my way to work," Diane told him, raking a hand through her hair. "My shift starts in half and hour but I told my supervisor I might be a few minutes late because I wanted to check on my sick uncle Lee….Patty knows exactly where I am so if you—"

"_Patty?" _Lee Toric laughed, setting his gun down. "Must be an Irish thing. No way any other self-respecting man would answer to _Patty."_

"He's Scottish, you sadistic asshole," Diane growled, nostrils flaring. "And I'm not talking about Padraic. I'm talking about the Chief Resident of St. Thomas Patricia. She knows exactly where to find me and who to send the cops after if anything happens to me."

"I'm not gonna hurt _you, _Darlin," Lee crooned, lighting a cigarette he'd pulled from the pack on the round table by the window. "It's your _Scottish _Patty you should be worrying about."

"I don't have to worry about him either thanks to you," Diane sneered, shoving a hand into her purse. Lee watched as she pulled her cellphone, dialing several keys before holding it up towards him…

"_You stupid….Bitch….the last eight years of my life, my career. It's all over because of YOU. Because you couldn't resist getting dirty with your gun-running boyfriend, the same boyfriend that left you to fend for yourself while a couple nazi-thugs gang-raped you in every hole in you were born with. I had your back…We had a deal…_"

Diane pulled the phone back, pressing another key. _"MESSAGE SAVED!" _Said the voicemail lady through the cell's speaker phone.

Diane smirked. "I'll nail your ass to the fuckin wall if you go anywhere near Padraic or his club. I'll make sure you end up with a needle in _your _arm if anything happens to him. I'll use the fact that you were _dumb_ enough to leave a threatening voicemail, warning about your _big plans _for my Old man to end what's left of your bullshit career _and _get you thrown in the same shithole Clay died in. I'm sure you could use a little lovin yourself. And I bet it's hard for you to come by with you being a fuckin psychopath and all. But don't worry, Uncle Lee. You follow through on what you said in this voicemail? I'm sure you'll have men lining up to make you there bitch in federal prison."

Lee Toric was laughing—actual tears-inducing laughter. Maniacally. Condescending in every way that made the victory Diane felt when she first walked in very short-lived.

"Is that supposed to scare me?" Lee Toric shrugged. "What? You think you're the only one without any vulnerabilities?" Diane followed his eyes to her stomach. "Did you forget about the interview you gave seven years ago? The one where you told my partner you blamed Clarence Morrow for you being raped? That you think it was some twisted gift to partner with L.A.N? I wonder how your boyfriend would feel about you being a rat. All that intel you gave up..."

"I told you that _off the record," _Diane hissed. "Everything I told you about the club I told you as my Uncle. That was back when I thought you actually gave a shit. When I stupidly believed I should give you the benefit of doubt even though Arthur told me what a rotten, two-faced bastard Daddy's foster-brother was. I wasn't making a report to the Feds."

"Oh but I _am _a Fed, Sweetheart," Lee told her. "And I remember you giving me permission to record our conversation—"

"I DID _NOT!"_

"And I remember discussing it with my _former_ partner," Lee chuckled darkly. "The one your husband got rid of. How'd you spin that by that way? You must have gold between your thighs the same as that Moira bitch. Art didn't cut me out of his life until he got a wiff of that biker whore's snatch. You must have learned the trade from her. Getting your _husband _to kill the agent gunning for your _boyfriend._ Fuckin genius. "

"I had _nothing _to do with Stahl," Diane barked. "And I'm not sorry she's dead either. That bitch got what she deserved the same way you will one day. I don't care how many crooked friends you have or how many criminals you have in your pocket. _No one _is untouchable."

"Maybe I will," Lee mused, skepticism clear in his tone. "I know it won't be any time soon though. And it definitely won't be because of you. We understand each other, Diane. _You _understand me and that's why we've been thick as thieves ever since you asked me to _make Clay Morrow pay. _I've got a paper trail of our loving Uncle-niece relationship that goes all the way back to the day you when you skipped town, leaving _your _niece to mop up my brother's vomit every morning. You want to _touch _me, Sweetheart? Go ahead. Just know that if you pull me down, you're going with me. Clarence Morrow…._Murder-for-hire. _Barbara _Harland's_ way of paying her debt to yours for her nephew kidnapping your niece. _Accessory to murder _for the unsolved homicide of June Stahl. And get this! Your recorded statements might even turn out to be the _past crime _ATF needs to nail SAMCRO on Rico charges. All that hard work John Teller put into making his club legit for naught…"

"You're a _monster," _Diane hissed, tears running down her face.

"And you're a _mother," _Lee replied, nodding at her stomach. "Soon to be anyway. You should put your child first. Don't be a deadbeat like your brother was. Arthur's sober now, right? That's good for him. And his daughter. Him and Tara have a chance to fix their relationship. But _you? _If you don't put yourself first…if you choose try to protect your boyfriend over protecting yourself? I don't know, Darlin. It'll be pretty tough to be a good parent when you're sitting in a jail cell."

"What are you saying?" Diane sniffled, wiping her face with the back of her hand. She was absently clutching her stomach when she asked him, "You're going to punish me because _he's _just as vindictive and ruthless are you are?"

"I'm saying you better stay the Hell out of my way," Lee warned her. "Kiss and make up with your husband. Pack your niece and your brother in a car and get the Hell out of Charming. That's the safest way to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Or being tempted to help your high school sweetheart. Don't try to help him, Diane. Stay out of this. Or I promise you'll burn with him. And trust me, Baby girl…._I keep _my _promises."_

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* * *

_**March 8th**_

* * *

He wanted to go to Fun town instead of his father's birthday party. And Jax fought his hardest to convince her, too. But in the end, Tara won. She got her wish the same as every other time before. He just couldn't say 'No' to her even in the rare moments when he desperately wanted to.

Jax rode into the Teller-Morrow slowly, and he didn't missed the tightening of her arms around him as his Harley rumbled its way past the skid-marks still staining the pale-gray asphalt. He caught her staring at the slightly faded markings, noted the fear in her eyes, the laboring of her breathing as she relived the same painful moment that had played in his mind every single time he'd tried riding on to the lot the first few weeks after New Year's.

They were both nervous.

Tara, about returning to the scene of the crime, the place she'd be kidnapped from. That was what Jax hoped for at least. As he took hold of her hand, capturing it in the warmth of his own, Jax sincerely hoped—hating himself all the while—that Tara was thinking about her kidnapping, and not the fight she had with Wendy, the awful shit he'd said to her that night, or what she'd seen.

But Tara wasn't thinking about any of those things. Every painful memory somehow subsided the second he folded his hand and hers, kissing her cheek. As he gently pulled her along, towards the half-opened clubhouse double doors, Tara wasn't thinking about New Year's Eve at all. She was thinking about him. She was nervous about how he'd react when they walked through those doors and—

Jax's eyes found them right away.

Tara followed his indigo gaze to the bubbly, happy couple leaning against the pool table. Tara watched his face, studied Jax as they watched his father curling his arms around the slender waist of the smiling redhead standing in front of him. Tara noted the pain in his eyes, the contempt making his nostrils flare when JT slipped his hands in the back pockets of the young woman's jeans, cupping her ass as she tilted her head up to lock lips with him.

All of the hooting and hollering, the people laughing and talking over plates filled with food nearly drowned out the music blaring from the speakers mounted on the club lounge wall.

Opie was standing by the bar, taking a deep pull from a beer the croweater behind the bar handed him. He'd noticed them first, not that anyone could tell by how quickly he looked away the second Tara caught his eye.

Tig and the guys were too busy flirting and being handsy with their own women to realize the young couple still standing in the doorway, hidden behind the half of the door still pulled closed. But then Opie finished his beer, letting out a belch that probably would have been loud if they could hear over all the other noise. Tara watched as he leaned over the bar, twisting the nozzle to the stereo behind it until the music was off.

That was when people glanced towards the bar to see why the music stopped.

Everyone followed the scorn in Opie's eyes to where Jax and Tara stood just as his girlfriend walked out from the back hallway where the club dorms were.

Donna waddled her away towards the man of the hour, unaware of the reason for sudden quiet when she stated, "I think she might be hungry or something. Or maybe she just doesn't like me anymore."

Tara felt Jax squeeze her hand tighter. Her own breath hitched as they watched Donna hold the fidgeting toddler in her arms out to her father. JT was too busy staring at his oldest child, peering over at his son's undecipherable expression to notice he'd missed yet another opportunity to hold his daughter—this time under a different circumstance.

Maureen Ashby wasn't far behind him, pale green eyes widening in surprise at the sixteen year old boy everyone else in the clubhouse was watching closely. Maureen smiled, taking a couple steps towards him, stopping when she felt JT's hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently in a silent request she'd clearly picked up on without him uttering a word. Maureen offered Jax a timid nod, nerves creeping into her smile. "_Hello, Jackson," _She said, dropping her eyes to the little girl struggling to free herself from her mother's arms.

"I'm glad you came, Son," JT said. His smile was angled towards Tara, and he offered a quick nod of knowing appreciation before gently reaching for his daughter, slowly taking the hyper child out of Maureen's arms. His eyes never left Jax's as he pressed a kiss to the pretty two year old's forehead, and his teenage son didn't miss how quickly Trinity calmed down, how she wrapped her tiny arms around their fatehr's neck, kissing his cheek right before tugging hard on his beard.

Jax fought hard against the twitching at the corners of his mouth. And he'd won the battle to keep the memories of his baby brother doing the same thing to their father from eliciting a smile. But he'd either hadn't noticed, or lost the war at keeping his emotions from reflecting in his eyes—crystal blue, shining with unshed tears when he looked at Trinity, and all he saw was Thomas with strawberry-blonde pigtails. "_Jesus Christ."_

Trinity turned her head towards the door, her own startling blue eyes zoning in on the only sound currently reverberating throughout the quiet clubhouse. The sound of her older brother's voice. Back and forth, her almond-shaped eyes bounced from Jax, to the pretty brunette standing next to him, and then finally they flitted downward to the joining of their hands.

Piney and Kozik chuckled under their breaths when Trinity caught her father off guard, chopping him in the throat with her hand in a sudden effort to get him to put her down. JT slowly complied with his daughter's wish. Then everyone watched as the two-year old hobbled her way towards the clubhouse entrance, the light tapping of her feet in the shiny, white shoes she was wearing filling the silence that once again followed.

Chibs nudged the wild-hairedwoman in his lap aside to get a better view like everyone else. Jason even stopped putting his life at risk by staring at Donna's breasts to watch.

Tara gently slid her hand out of Jax's, curling her arm around his neck as she leaned towards him to whisper in his ear, "_She looks just like Tommy," _just as the mini-Teller came to a stop in front of them.

Trinity held her arms out towards him, the expression on her chubby, cherubic face solemn as ever when the toddler loudly shrieked, "UP!"

Jax looked to his father, his eyes darted over to Opie, then Piney and slowly made their way back to the teenage girl standing next to him. It was her smile of encouragement he'd been hoping to avoid, yet he couldn't resist seeking it out anyway. And before he could remember why he didn't want to do it, Jax was leaning forward to scoop the demanding child in front of them up in his arms.

Tara smiled, reaching a hand up to lightly flick the curly end of Trinity's pony-tail. "Hi, my name is Tara…Can you tell me yours?"

If Trinity understood her, she didn't show it. Instead the little girl kissed the tip of her older brother's nose. Before the begrudging smile on Jax's face could fully blossom, the spoiled little girl mushed his face aside, clawing at the hand on his shoulder. Trinity grabbed Tara's hand, wrapping her tiny fingers around the elder girl's wrists.

_"Mine!" _Trinity shrieked, instantly clueing everyone in on her reason for being so friendly to someone she'd never met. JT, Maureen and several others laughed with Tara and—surprisingly—Jax as they watched the persistent little devil tug away at the charm bracelet dangling from Tara's wrists. "_Mine!" _

"No, it's not," Jax told her, smirking. Jax flinched, wincing when the child in his arms wacked him in the face with her balled up fists. "Oww! Jesus Christ."

JT chuckled, quickly grabbing Maureen's hand when she yet again moved to walk towards them. "I should have probably warned you," the proud father said. "She _looks _like Thomas, but she's actually a lot like you were."

"You mean a lot like he still _is, _right Jason?" Niko joked from the corner, snickering when the prospect standing along the wall next to him turned to shove the guy pointing at the fading bruise above his eyes from the stitches he had to get two months ago.

"Something tells me your girl's gonna make Jackie-boy look like an Angel," Chibs commented. Fiona Telford laughed, turning her head to grin at the man balancing her in his lap.

"She'll be a tough one for sure," Fiona agreed, nodding over at their daughter. "Barely walking straight and she's brash with her Ma' worse than Carrie is with me."

Tara unclasped the charm bracelet from her wrist for the first time since Jax put it back on her in the hospital. She held out to Trinity's snatching hand, giggling when Jax barely missed her tiny fist flying towards his face yet again. It served as the only warning shot he needed to put her bad ass down before he ended up with a red nose to match the tied ribbons holding her two ponytails in place. "You promised you'd never take it off again," Jax said. This was true, but his voice lacked the disappointment he thought he'd feel as they watched little Trini find a spot on the bar floor that met her satisfaction, plopping her butt down on it to play with her shiny, new toy.

Jax looked away from his baby sister, fixing his gaze on their smilng father. Slowly, his blue eyes bounced around the room, touching on all of the proud, happy, welcoming, loving expressions of the men he'd grown up in front of. And the young girl and mother he'd be meeting for the first time. Chibs winked at him, kissing Fiona's shoulder, clapping a hand on his daughter's thigh when Jax looked towards them.

Jax caught himself before he winked at Carrianne, who was already blushing when he caught her checking him out from head to toe. He wasn't nearly as scared of Chibs as he was of Fiona Telford. That woman was notorious in her own right.

"Some promises are meant to be broken," Tara said, kissing the pink spot on his face from where his sister's hand landed. "You showing up here tonight…being here with your family wasn't one of them," she whispered.

Jax couldn't have agreed with her more. And even though he hadn't done so out loud, Tara could see it all over his face without him ever saying a word.

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* * *

JT's party wasn't much different than the usual all night rager they threw at Reaper on the weekends. The only difference was the earlier start of the event, for the benefit of members and their extended families. But as nighttime rolled around, Old Ladies and hopeful hang-arounds and croweaters took their kids home to shield their children from the raucous life they'd probably be a part of one day. A few, like Fiona and Maureen returned, but most of the women populating the clubhouse were single and eager to be attached with whatever member they could get their hooks into.

PG-13 was over. The smoke saturating the air was a mixture of weed, tobacco and the fire blazing up from the custom SAMCRO Grill burning outside. Everyone who wasn't shooting pool, dancing on a pole, or occupying one of the many dorm rooms were crowded around the boxing ring outside. Tara and Chastity were sitting together at the picnic table, with twin expressions of annoyance on their faces as they watched Jax and the new girl Lyla Harrington from a short distance. Kozik and SAMBEL's visiting Vice President were getting real raw and bloody, so it would have been a fair statement to say the fight to watch was taking place in the ring behind them. But there would soon be another clubhouse brawl on the horizon if Lyla giggled at another damn thing Jax said to her, when Tara and Chastity both knew he wasn't even that fuckin funny.

"Damn it, I really thought she was into me," Chastity rolling her eyes as they watched Lyla giggle again when Jax leaned down to whisper something in her ear.

"That's enough," Tara remarked, standing up.

"Relax, _Rambo."_ Chastity grabbed her arm, pulling her back down to sit. "I asked him to feel her out for me. Don't go flipping out her because I asked him for a favor."

"Who says I'm going after _her?" _Tara bit back, grimacing.

Chastity turned to cock an angry eyebrow at her. "Isn't that your M.O? Going after the _girl?" _She was already placing a hand over Tara's before the brunette sitting next to her could react. "Sorry….I'm just cranky because I keep falling for straight chicks."

_"She likes you," _Jax announced, catching them by surprise when he stood at the end of the table. "You should head back inside. Apparently this is her _sonnggg. _Give her a preview of your dance moves before you ask her to that cheesy ass prom.. And just a heads up. _Everything pink_ is her favorite movie so she'll be dressed like a giant carnation or some shit."

Tara giggled, her face softening. "I think you mean _Pretty _in Pink."

"Who cares what he means!" Chastity smiled, bumping shoulders with Tara when she leaned towards him. "When you say she _likes _me….do you mean—"

"She _likes _you," Jax assured, winking. He leaned over Tara to whisper in the excited blonde's ear. "Half our conversation was just me fuckin with you for tearing my girlfriend's head off."

Chastity smacked his arm. "Asshole."

"Instigator," Jax charged, smiling at the confused, suspicious expression Tara's face. "You make things harder for _me _every time. Just stay out of it, alright. Let them work it out. You can't be everybody's backbone all the time."

"Are you two talking about me?" Tara asked, narrowing her eyes at them both.

Chastity smirked, standing up to kiss Jax on the cheek, right before shoving him. "I'm going to shake my ass with the _new _hottest Blonde in Charming. Sorry she took your title Teller. She'll have your fan club switching teams in no time."

"Yeah," Tara snorted. "Let's _hope."_

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

"WHO'S NEXT?!" Liam O'Neil chanted, tipping his head back to shout over the applause, the chorus of hooting and hollering around him. Blood stained the white gauze wrapped around his hands, sweat glistening all over his body as he danced around the ring, heckling Jason, the SAMCRO Prospect who seemed to be a glutton for punishment when it came to getting his ass beat. "WHO'S NEXT?! Come on, then! What about you JT? All those metal parts screwed into your ass, you can take a punch or two, Yeah?"

Piney clapped JT on his back, laughing with the rest of the crowd as they watched the President of SAMCRO weigh his options. On one hand, he could accept the challenge, and prove once and for all to the Charming visitors that his motorcycle accident was way fuckin behind him. But on his other, he had a gorgeous, young redhead promising him things just with the look in her eyes. It was a seductive look that had Jax scowling in his father's direction instead of smiling like he'd been when the Irishman first challenged him.

"You guys are still in town for another week," JT said, turning to smile at the SAMBEL President at his left. Keith McGee nodded in agreement, spitting the butt end of the cigar in his hand on the ground. ""I've got plenty of time to kick your ass before you head back across the pond." JT grabbed a hold of Maureen's hand. SAMCRO's Belfast charter brothers booed and made kissing noises as the couple walked off, towards the clubhouse.

O'Neil happened to look towards the picnic table, his olive eyes landing on Prince of SAMCRO himself. He took in the biter scowl on the sixteen year old's face, and just like that the cocky nineteen year old found his next challenge. "JACKIE BOY!" O'Neil drawled, throwing his legs over the ropes to jump down out of the ring. Jax's nostrils flared, a taunting glint flashed in his smile as the Irish biker swaggered towards him, with the crowd of club members and guests following closely behind him.

"What about you, Jackie?" O'Neill walked in a circle, scanning the crowd formed around them. "How about it, Laddy? Who wants to see me bloody up the Prince of Charming?!" The crowd roared. Opie rolled his eyes, shook his head and walked back towards the clubhouse, hand in hand with Donna. Tara's eyes perused the greasy-haired Irishman, sizing him up. Jax was too busy smirking. "I hear you're a big shot here in Charming," O'Neill taunted. "Taking on the FBI and shiteee. Let's see how long you'll last until your Old man runs out to save his baby boy."

Jax kissed Tara's neck, pulling her back against his chest when she tilted her head to give him better access. "You'll be okay to sit here by yourself a little while?" He whispered to her. "Shouldn't take long," the equally arrogant teenager boasted.

"OH, COME ON!" O'Neil interrupted before Tara could respond. Jax pulled his lips from the shell of her ear when he watched Liam O'Neill's eyes travel from the deep V-neck cut of Tara's shirt, glossing over the long legs peeking out of her shorts. Sultry, leering eyes paused on her thighs, before finally making their way down to the sandals laced all the way up her calves. "I can't blame ya, not wantin to leave this one on her own, but we're all family here, right? The pretty lass'll be fine without you for a bit. And hey, maybe she can run in and save _you _this time, Yeah? I hear your bitch is tougher than you anyway….been hearing some other things about her, too."

"_Watch it, asshole!" _Piney parked, parting through the women standing in front of him to step forward. Chibs, Padraic and Kozik served as the force field, blocking him from storming over.

O'Neill chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender. "Hey, I mean no disrespect! Just trying to psyche your young Prince here into growing some balls."

McGee sloshed beer on his shirt from the mug he'd quickly pulled from his mouth. "Easy, O'Neill," He warned. "You might end up a ring with more people than even you can handle."

"You want somebody to get in the ring with you so badly?" Miles stepped forward, reaching for the hem of T-shirt. "I'm in."

Jax stood up then, shaking his head. There was only slight contempt in his eyes when he nodded towards Miles. "_I got this."_

"HERE WE ARE!" O'Neill jogged in place, making a show of flexing the toned muscles in his arms, the abs ridging his pale chest.

"Kick his ass, Jax," Miles encouraged.

"Jackie boy's got this," Chibs said, bumping fists with his nephew. Bobby, and the rest of SAMCRO were all in agreement. Especially Happy who growled, _"Make this motherfucker bleed," _pointing at the Irishman wagging his tongue at the brunette still sitting at the picnic table.

The young woman Tara recognize from behind the clubhouse bar earlier stepped forward then, a roll of white boxing tape in her hand. "Hey, Jax."

Jax nodded his head up at her. "Justine, right?"

The hot blonde giggled, shaking her head. "Close," she corrected. "It's actually _Christina."_

Tara snickered, amusement twisting up her features instead of anger for a change. "_That's _close?"

Christina rolled her eyes, otherwise pretending Tara wasn't sitting there as she held up the tape in her hand. "If you want I can wrap you up," she offered, biting her lip, batting her lashes at him. "I did O'Neill and the other guys."

"I'm sure she _did," _Tara muttered, loud enough for only Jax to hear.

Jax was biting his own lip to keep from laughing when he turned to look at the brunette now standing up next to him, her arms crossed. "Babe, you remember how to do it?"

Tara nodded, smiling. "Hasn't been that long since I used to kick you and Opie's ass in the ring at Lumpy's."

The crowd erupted once agin. _"OoOoOoh…._"

"Maybe I should pass on the Prince and go a few rounds with the _Princess," _O'Neill jeered. "She's probably more of a challenge."

Chibs laughed, elbowing Padraic in his side. "If she's anything like Diane, she probably is."

Kozik snickered. "Yeah, Baby _Fidget _has a mean right-hook," he said, raising his voice in effort to get the attention of the croweater still staring at Jax like he was a piece of meat. "_Justine _should probably keep that in mind…Just saying."

Jax reached for the roll of bandaging in Christina's hand, winking at her as he handed it to Tara. "Appreciate, Darlin," he drawled. "My girl's got it covered."

"_Awwww,_" O'Neill taunted. "I'm starting to feel bad about making you cry like a wee baby in front of ya Old Lady. Or _is _she?" O'Neil was brazen as ever, scoping out her exposed skin, her cleavage, then leaning forward to check for a back tattoo. "Don't see any ink on her. So I guess it's cool if she heads back to the dorm with me after—"

Tara swiftly unraveled a nice length of the bandaging off before tearing the piece of with her teeth. "Here," she said, tossing the roll back to Christina. "You can wrap his other hand. The sooner he's ready, the sooner this Irish asshole gets his teeth knocked out."

"Might be sooner than that," Piney barked in the background.

"Jesus Christ," O'Neill teased, turning comically-wide eyes towards the mean-mugging men in leather SAMCRO Kutte's glaring at him when he looked back. "You've got quite the fan club here, lass. The prospect must be right. You really are something _special."_

Tara never regretted her angry, drunken mistake with Jason more than she did right then. And the look in Jax's eyes made her flinch even though he wasn't looking at her. He was glaring over her shoulder, and his hard blue eyes remained fixed on the petty, big-mouthed prospect that was in the crowd, holding ice to his swollen-shut eye. "I've got it," Jax said, stilling Tara's hands, pulling his other hand away from Christina when she finished before Tara. He finished wrapping the left one himself, doing a piss-poor job in his effort to finish fast. "Let's do this shit," Jax barked, bunching his shirt up in his fist to pull it over his head.

Yet again, the crowd whistled. All eyes were on him—the woman perusing his chest, gaping at the tattoo inked over his heart. Padraic nodded in respect, Piney smirked and shook his head. Tig and Bobby were looking at each other with twin expressions of surprise and amusement.

"_Tara_?" O'Neil nodded at the green-eyed brunette glaring at him. _"Aye_…A beautiful name for a beautiful girl."

"Let's go," Jax barked, bumping his shoulder hard against his as he walked past, hopping off the ropes to stand in the middle of the ring. O'Neil followed right behind him, winking at his President McGee, slapping hands with his Belfast brothers, getting claps on the back or wagging his tongue at the jeers from SAMCRO member goading him about how fuckin sorry he'd be for stepping in the ring with Jackson Teller at all—let alone a red-hot infuriated one.

O'Neill wriggled his eyebrows at the angry sixteen year old standing in the ring with him. He couldn't resist one last dig, olive eyes flitting towards the rapid rise and fall of Jax' tattooed chest. "Your Old man didn't tell ya how things work in the MC? Your Old Lady supposed to be the one with _Property of _stamped over her ass. You must be taking after Padraic, and SAMCRO's favorite butt-boy Otto—"

After the first swing, the crunch of Jax's fist against the shit-talking Irishman's face. After all the blood shooting out of his nose, the gash above his eyebrow. After the fight was over—when Jax was done annihilating his ass for everyone to see. Liam O'Neill didn't say another word for the rest of the night. And it wasn't just because his mouth was swollen, and he had a few teeth loose.

Jax held his arms up high on either side of his head, bent at the elbows—bloody fists balled up tight as he flexed the biceps rippling through his arms. Six rows of glistening muscle pushed to the service of his taut stomach. As he walked through of bikers, Old Ladies, and hang arounds, Jax tuned out the cheers of congrulations, the pride in Happy's normally hard eyes. He ignored them all, seeking out only one person—only one face.

Tara.

It was something about watching Jax kick the living shit out of a person. It was something about tonight, because every other time she'd witnessed it she'd been terrified. Was it because of Kohn? Or was it the comfort of knowing the club would break it up before things turned deadly? Tara didn't know what it was or why it was but all she could feel in that moment….was unbelievably fuckin horny.

His long, dirty blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail with the rubber-band Miles handed him. It was damp with sweat, darkened at the roots. His face was dripping, the flames from the SAMCRO Barbeque pit making the fine hairs slowly growing in around his mouth and chin gleam in the night from the moisture sliding down his cheek. Jax's smile was wide, and only for her as he walked his way over, legs bopping with all the swagger of the sexy victor he was.

And his chest. Fucking Christ, his chest was glistening with sweat, the dark letters of her name were shining, and all she could think about were the many things she wanted to do to him when he took her home later.

Fuck Kohn.

That dead fucker wasn't ruining another night for her. She wanted Jax—she never _stopped _wanting him, and she never would.

So what was stopping her from her from saying, "_Take me home," _like she'd planned to the second he stopped in front of her?

"I'm gonna go clean up," Jax said, kissing her. "I'll be right back, Babe."

Tara fought the urge to stick her tongue out at the crowd of young women—Mrs. Justine-is-close-to-Christina included. Instead of being annoyed by all the whispers she chose to wink at her, taking a page out her boyfriend's book. Tara wasn't even going to let the fact that Jason kept staring in her direction while he was laughing and talking to Juice and two other prospects. She wasn't going to let it get under her skin, Tara was forcing herself to ignore the voice in her head that was tempting her to think about all the lies he was probably telling, all the embellishment and exaggerating the extent of their hook up.

Tara was doing just fine ignoring him until Opie walked up behind him. Until Opie caught the end of whatever their conversation was about. It was three A.M and the crowd was finally winding down as people took off to shack up or pass out drunk on the nearest surface. The ring was all but shut down, but in a matter of seconds, Jason was taking his second beating of the night—this time from Opie Winston.

Opie wasn't fuckin around either.

Donna nearly caught an elbow to the face when she tried to pull him back. Only then did Tara run over to try and stop him herself, gaping at Piney the whole way there as the elder Winston simply stood there, sipping his beer while he, Kozik and the others watched. "OPIE!" Tara screeched. Fiona Telford pulled her arm away from her husband, doubling back from the direction they'd been walking when she saw Tara duck, barely missing an elbow herself. Only then did Chibs sigh, joining in with Piney and Happy who were already charging forward to break up the one-way fight that had Jason pinned on the ground.

"Sometimes I swear Tig sponsors you just for sport," Kozik grunted out, helping the bleeding prospect up. "Learn how to keep your mouth shut sometimes, Grunt."

"Yeah," Piney threatened, glaring. "Or you'll get a Hell of a lot worse."

"Idiot," Padraic hissed, shaking his head. He glanced over at Chibs. "Do you not _get _it?"

"Get what?" Jason spit blood on the ground. "This ain't suburbia. We're outlaws. She's not even a fuckin Old Lady."

"She's not some croweater you can talk shit about either," Opie barked, turning his glare on Tara. "Even if she does _act _like one."

Tara gasped, her eyes went round. "Excuse me?"

"Tara, don't," Donna warned, reaching for arm.

"Are you fuckin kidding me?" Tara snatched her arm away. "Is that why you're being a dick? You're ignoring me because this asshole—_OPIE!"_

Donna was hot on Tara's heels, but her words of protest fell on deaf ears as the angry brunette kept following after him anyway when he stormed off.

"You and Jackson are two peas in a fuckin pod sometimes, I SWEAR!" Tara screamed at his back. "You can defend me but you can't talk to me? Why because you're angry? My mom broke up your parent's marriage, and suddenly _I'm _the reason she left? The reason she's dead?"

Opie spun around, and the look in his eyes made Tara jump back several steps. "Maybe if you'd stop acting like that whore Sarah, I wouldn't _have _to defend you all the fuckin time!"

"FUCK YOU, OPIE!" Tara bellowed. "I'm sick of your—"

"Tara!" Donna skirted around her, blocking her path. "Just leave it alone, Okay?"

"He's calling me a whore," Tara exclaimed, eyebrows rising. "You do realize that, right? Where the Hell does he get off calling _me _a slut? Sarah's been fucking every guy with a pulse since we were like twelve, and he never called _her _a whore."

"He didn't call you a whore," Donna replied, glancing towards the ground. "No, Tara—listen to me! Opie has a lot on his mind. He's having a hard time dealing with what happened to his mom—"

"You don't think I _know _that?" Tara shrieked. "You don't think I've been _trying _to talk to him, to see if he's okay, to ask him what I can do to help? He's always there for me, Donna. _Always _there for me, but he won't let me be there for him. And if it was a choice between leaning on me or his girlfriend I'd get it, Okay? I'd get it if he needed you more, but that's not what this is. He's not just leaning on you because he needs you more. He's ignoring me because he fuckin hates me, and it's not fair, Donna. I didn't make Piney fall in love with my mom. I didn't make Mary pack her bags and leave him. And God knows, I would never do anything to hurt her. It's not my fault. _It's not my fuckin fault! _Why is he blaming me?"

"He still has your back," Donna explained, sighing. "No matter how angry he is, with you or Jax…whenever you really need him he's there. And you guys are the same way when he needs you. Anything he needs you're there, right? Well, right now what Opie _needs…_is space. I promise, Tara. Opie doesn't hate you _or _Jax. He just needs you to take a step back. Try not to do anymore impulsive shit…stop giving him reasons to put his own shit aside to deal with yours. How the Hell is he supposed to focus on his own pain when he's always putting out the fires you and everyone else is setting around him?"

"I'm not going to apologize for that idiot prospect," Tara said quietly. "What happened wasn't about Opie. And I never asked him to jump to my defense. I did what I did knowing what kind of person he was. I thought I was hurting Jax at the time but now I'm the one who has to deal with it. I made a choice. I'm owning it. I don't need him to defend me, Donna. I just need him to be my best friend again. I _miss _him. And part of me hates you for being the only one he feels like he can turn to."

Donna's smile was sad. "I know," she replied, nodding once. Then she stepped forward, wrapping her short arms around Tara, pulling her into a hug, kissing her cheek. "But you don't have to worry…._I've got this."_

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Tara wasn't sure how long she'd been standing there, leaning against the metal railing where several rows of Harley Davidson's motorcycles were parked. Her tears were already dried up before her eyes could get puffy. And she wasn't angry anymore.

Not at Opie.

She couldn't quite put a name on the emotion she felt as she watched him and Donna ride off the Teller-Morrow parking lot, leaving her behind. But a sudden calm had come over when Opie had finally looked her directly in the eye without scowling for the first time in months. He didn't smile at her. When he quietly muttered, "_I miss you, too," _it was so close to a whisper she'd barely heard it over the rumbling of his motorcycle's engine.

With all the rage wiped away, the sadness and agony in his eyes was nearly enough to still her heart, to make her reach her arm out reflexively to stop him from leaving. But then Donna curled her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. When she glanced over at Tara from over his shoulder as they hugged, Donna flashed her a smile that begged Tara to listen to her. And the comfort Tara saw in Opie's eyes when Donna climbed onto the bike behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist—the undeniable contentment breaking through the grief. When Tara saw that, she finally resigned to stop fighting him.

Opie needed Donna, like she need the blue-eyed boy walking over to her.

The annoyingly passive boy.

"You okay, Babe?" Jax asked, turning to lean beside her. When Tara glanced up at him, Jax's expression was anything but calm. He looked pissed. "Miles told me what happened with Ope."

"He called me a whore." Tara nodded, frowning. "It's okay though. I know he didn't mean it. He's just…he needs somebody to be angry with….someone he can use as an outlet. After my mom died, my dad checked out. His job kept a roof over our heads, and money for me to keep the kitchen stocked but he was never really there. Half my childhood…he didn't do shit for me, but I put up with all his drunken rage anyway. Opie and Piney…._Opie _was always there. He's there every time I need him so if I deal with _him _lashing out for a while, I'll do it. At this point I'm used to hot and cold anyway."

Jax shook his head. "He doesn't get a pass," he argued gently. "You don't have to give everyone a pass all the time, Tara. I love Opie. That's my best friend, my _brother. _And I know he's hurting. But that doesn't mean he gets to use you for target practice."

"I'm surprised you're not pleased," Tara said, tilting her head to glare at him. "For the first time since he dropped out of school, you two finally agree on something."

"What are you talking about?"

"Me being a _whore," _Tara bit back, smirking. "Or _acting _like one," she emphasized, making air quotes. "Weren't you the one telling me what my plan B should be if I flunk of Medical school?"

Jax sighed. "I shouldn't have said any of that shit—"

"Why the fuck not?" Tara shoved him. "It was how you felt. Or maybe it's how you _feel. _I got no fuckin way of knowing because all you do pat my hair and ask me if I need to take my pills every night. I tell you I forgive you for Wendy. And then every time I see her I curse you out, and you say nothing…except you _love _me. You stand there like a fuckin mute while I chew her fuckin head off as if she wasn't your best friend before I told her to walk if she didn't want _me_ to! But you _love _me, so to Hell with Wendy, Huh?"

"I defend her, you get pissed," Jax complained, slapping his hands down at his sides. "I say nothing, and somehow I'm still being a dick, to you. What the Hell do you want me to do Tara?"

"I want you to stop treating me like I'm going to snap in two!" Tara growled. "Stop babying. Stop biting your tongue because you think I'm going O.D or slit my wrists because you're angry with me. Speak the fuck up! _Admit it! _You're just as angry as Opie. You didn't want to go to fun town to avoid your dad. You just didn't want to bring me here because of Jason. I knew exactly what I was doing. I knew you'd probably go back to the club eventually. And I know how guys like _him _are. I knew he'd torment you about it—_that's why I did it! _I was pissed and wanted to hurt you, too. And I _did _hurt you so stop acting like you don't give a fuck! It's insulting. And it's _bullshit. _You can beat the shit out of every guy that brings it up, _including_ him. That won't change the fact that you're angry with _me, _too."

"YOU WANT ME TO BE HONEST WITH YOU?" Jax yelled. "You want the _truth? _I can't fuckin turn it off. _That's _the truth, Tara. It's like ever since Kohn…it's like I flipped a fuckin switch and I don't know how to go back. You want to know what I was thinking about when I found out that asshole was talking shit about you? That he's going around making you out to be some croweater? I was thinking about how hard it would be to get away with killing yet another guy that had no fuckin business touching you. I'm thinking you're in love with a psychopath. _That's _the truth you want to know so fuckin badly. I'm thinking killing someone is only scary the first time, and every time after that just make it's easier to justify. I'm thinking I'm no better than the guy who kidnapped you, because I'm that fuckin obsessed. I'm thinking that you're going to wake up one day and realize that and I might not let you leave when you want to because I'm just as _fucked _in the head as he was! How's that for _truth?_ Are you drowning in it yet, Tara?"

_"Thank you."_

Jax squinted his eyes, eyebrow scrunching together. "What?"

Tara smiled. "Good to know I'm not the only one that needs a psychiatrist," she said. "I was starting to think you were just a sociopath."

Jax's face was blank for several seconds before they both burst out laughing at the same time. "What the Hell am I supposed to say to that?"

"I'm _sorry." _Tara moved to stand in front of him, brushed her hand up and down his arm, until he caught it, lacing it with his. "Sometimes I wish I pulled the trigger instead of you. I can't stop thinking I might have been free of…_him _a lot sooner. Half the time I'm just doing what we both do best...projecting. I hate myself for letting you…for making you feel like this. I can't make you sit down on a couch and talk about your feelings with a stranger, and I know you don't think that's for you. But I can promise you, Jackson. You're not a monster. Because if you are, that just makes me the same. Every time I see another girl look in your direction, I want to rip her tits off."

Jax chuckled. "We're going to end up writing each other letters from our jail cells," he joked, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"They don't allow prisoners to write to other prisoners," Tara told him. "I looked it up…._What?_ I was curious."

Jax snickered. "Of course you were, Know-it-all."

"You're _nothing_ like him," Tara promised, pressing a hand to chest, her palm over his heart. "If you were you wouldn't be so conflicted. Is it healthy that you killed a guy and part of you thinks that'll make it easier to do it again? No. But the fact that you're tempted—the fact that I can even take you there…the fact that I love you more _because _I can take you there. That shit isn't normal either, Baby. But I can't help it any more than you can. _I love you, Jackson Nathan Teller_. I always have…and I always will."

Jax blinked hard, taking a moment to clear the shining in his eyes before opening them again. "You promise, Babe? Because I swear to God I can't lose another person I love."

"Gemma walked away because you asked her to," Tara reminded him. "But I'm not as strong as her. I used to be, but I'm not anymore. I can't walk away again. And I'm not Opie either..._besides..._Opie's kind of a jerk these days. And he doesn't bake you cookies or give you sponge baths when your doctor tells you, you can't shower."

Jax smirked. "I still want to kick his ass for what he said to you."

"He still owes _you _a punch for saying the same shit," Tara argued, poking at the bridge of his nose. Smiling, she softened the blow with a kiss over the spot her fingernail landed. "Just leave it, Jax. You know I don't like it when you guy's fight. Not each other."

"The first fight me and Ope ever got into was over you," Jax mused, smirking. "You remember?" Skepticism creased the space between Tara's eyebrows as she shook her head. Jax sighed, still smiling. "I guess I probably would have forgot about it, too if Mary didn't bring it up every time we passed them in aisle when her and Gemma made us come with them to the supermarket."

"What the Heck are you talking about?" Tara wondered, threading her eyebrows together, even tighter.

Jax laughed. "It was when we were like five or six. We were playing outside in front of the house. Opie was already a fat ass then. So he called _pause _on us playing tag—probably because his chubby ass couldn't _catch _us. But he said he wanted a timeout to go get a snack. When he came back out, he had a fruit rollup. You saw it and you asked if you could have one. Piney heard you ask and he told Opie to give you one. And when Opie told him there was no more, he made him give you his last one anyway. And then you shared it with me instead of him. Or maybe you just gave me the bigger piece. I don't really remember that part of it, but as _soon _as Piney walked into the garage, Opie shoved you to the ground."

Tara smiled, shaking her head as she tried to think back. "I think I remember her telling me that story. It was one of the last times she talked to me…before she started acting weird."

Jax glanced down at his leg, still wrapped up in the childhood memory. "I scuffed up my knee rolling around on the lawn with him. When JT broke it up, you ran inside and got me a daffy duck band-aid. You promised me it would only sting for a second when Mary cleaned it with peroxide. No one even realized your elbow was bleeding because you were too busy pulling on Opie's hair to cry...It was probably the blood the set me off. Tommy wasn't the only one afraid of it, if you let JT tell it. But I think it was just…I don't know, Babe. I guess even back then I felt like I had to protect you…couldn't stand for anybody hurting you..._I loved you even when I didn't know better..._"

Tara's eyes were a sparkling emerald, even in the night. Or maybe it was just moisture shining in her eyes, the brightness of her smile when she wrapped her arms around his neck. Jax tilted his head forward, lightly brushing his lips across hers like he'd done so many times before.

But Tara didn't want light this time.

Before Jax's brain could catch up with the rest of his body, Tara's back was pressed against the railing, her nails were scaling up and down his back as she pulled him in tighter with the leg curled around his waist. He could feel her, every degree of heat emitting through her shorts. And Tara could feel every inch of how painful restraint was for him pressing against her core.

Tara gasped for air when she pulled back. And Jax back to holding his breath—waiting for another bursts of the only oxygen he needed: the green-eyed brunette grabbing a hold of his hand, dragging him behind her, across the lot. He had no idea where they were going, and he couldn't clear the nine clouds fogging up his mind to think about it even if he gave shit. He'd followed her anywhere. And Tara didn't have to hold onto his hand to get him to do it.

They came to a sudden stop in front of a door. What door? He wouldn't have know if hadn't recognized the desk in the middle of the room when she pulled him inside. Jax didn't think, he just did. One second Tara was leaning against the cluttered surface, and in the next all the papers and files, everything that had one rested on the empty desk was crashing to the floor. He was reaching for her waist before she guided his hand there. He lifted her up, standing between her legs as he sat her on the desk. Then his hands were tangled in her hair, Tara's hands were slipping underneath his shirt, wrists tickling the thin patch of hair trailing up towards his belly button as she thrummed a massage against his abs. Tara gripped his shoulders, lifting up to kiss his neck. His groan vibrated against her tongue as she flicked it against the vein pulsing in throat while her other hands began massaging the painfully hard cock throbbing between his legs.

Tara's hand reached to unclasp his belt buckle. Jax was shoving his jeans down before she could fully unzip them. He picked her up, palming her ass in his hands, curling her legs tight around his waist as he walked her around the desk. He plopped down fast on the rolling chair, nearly falling out of it as it veered back, hitting the wall hard with a loud bang that sent the books on the cheap plastic shelves next it collapse. Tara's thighs were spread wide on either side of his hips, she was grinding down hard on him, pulling back only long enough to yank her shirt over her head. His T-shirt joined hers on the floor in one fluid motion. Her hair whipped him in the face as she began sucking kisses over every inch of his chest she could reach without wiggling her way out of the death-grip he had on her ass as he pressed her harder against him every time she rocked forward.

When Tara gripped his wrist, pulling his groping hand away from her ass, Jax felt like crying as she slid from his lap. And when she dropped down to snatch his sneakers loose, freeing his legs of the denim pants still around his ankles, the look in her eyes when she sucked a kiss on his inner thigh short-circuited his brain for a minute.

Jax snapped back to the present, his blue eyes were stuck—locked like his dick was loaded. His gaze was fixed on every shimmy of her hips as she eased her shorts down over the sandals still laced around her calves. Tara was standing in front of him, bra and panties, nothing else. She stepped closer, stroking him through his boxers, circling his nipple with her tongue, kissing every inch of the tattoo of her name inked across his chest. "_Tara…Oh shit...Babe…." _Jax's eyes were squeezed shut, he was already rocking forward into her hand when she slipped it through the slit, curling her fingers around him. Tara moved her hand up and down slowly, and her touch almost seemed taunting until she began jerking him faster. She was in his lap again, and the friction from her soaked cotton panties was enough to drive him fuckin crazy as she stroked him harder. "….that feels good, Baby….really fuckin good….f_uckkk….._"

"I want to feel good, too, Jax," Tara told him, stepping back. His mind was fried and refried. Jax was as good as hypnotized as he watched her sucked two fingers into her mouth, tasting him while he watched. She tugged at the waistband of her panties. As she slid them down, her body slid up—until she was sitting on top of the desk.

Jax shot forward, the rolling wheels of the chair creaked as he gripped her knees, spreading her thighs to kiss the insides of them. If this was the penultimate stage before she was finally ready to let him all the way back in, Jax was all for it. He'd missed this most of all. He missed the way she threw her head back the second his tongue pressed against her clit for the first time. He missed all the sounds she made, the way her nails dug hard into his scalp as he sucked, licked and fingered her until her legs couldn't stop shaking. He'd do it every morning when she woke up, and every night before she went to sleep—_until _she fell asleep, if she'd let him.

"_I missed this so fuckin much, Babe," _Jax growled, pressing a kiss the patch wet curls. "I never want to forget it again…how good you _taste." _Her thighs were still quaking underneath his touch, Tara was flashing him that beautiful smile he loved even more the sultry one that promised wonder-fuckin-ful things. She was staring at him like she loved him. Like she trusted him more than anyone in the world, like she was ready to push past her fear. Tara was staring into his eyes like she was ready.

Ready for it all.

Jax blinked twice. "_Tara?" _

When her face didn't change, he tried several more times, but there was still no change. Tara was pulling on his arm until he stood up. Then her hands were sliding his boxers down, squeezing his balls and stroking the cock quickly hardening up again within her grip. "I never forgot how good _this feels," _Tara half-whispered, rolling her thumb over the swollen crown. "I didn't forget. And I now I want again…I _need _it, Baby. I need you love me again, Okay?"

Jax trapped her bottom lips between his teeth, sucking it into his mouth, and then her tongue into his. One hand was in his favorite place again, threaded through her hair, and the other took over the torturous ministrations of Tara's soft hand around him. Every step felt like another block of lead tethered to his ankles as he inched closer. He rubbed the tip of his cock up and down her slit, swallowing her moan as he jerked forward. Tara gripped his hips with her legs as if she feared he'd pull back like she'd wanted him all those times before. "_Love me, _Jackson,_" _Tara whispered in his ear, folding her hand over his to slowly guide him inside her. "_I want you to love me again."_

Jax pushed into her, filling her with every inch of longing that had been building up. His own head snapped back. And he missed the ecstasy making her eyes sparkle right before she snapped them shut, but he could barely keep his own eyes open. He missed all the gut-clenching, butterfly-inducing moans of pleasure pouring from her lungs because his own groans drowned them out and he couldn't stop telling her that he, "_never stopped." _That he couldn't love her again because he never stopped. That he _would _never stop. That he didn't want to stop now, and he couldn't.

At some point later on, Jax would probably regret missing the sparkle in Tara's eyes the most.

But as Tara snaked her arms around his neck to pull herself up off the desk—as she rode him long, hard and fast without any of the support he could barely focus his trembling limbs enough to give her. As he was buried deep inside her, at long last reveling in the tight, searing hot pleasure that only the _only_ girl he'd ever love could give him...

Jax couldn't focus on her eyes right then. He was too lost in her, trapped in the haze of a completely different kind of sparkle.

It was the stars dancing beneath his eyelids as they reached their climax.

Together.

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**I busted my ass to try and get this much finished before midnight. Didn't exactly work out, but I edited what I had. Show me some love folks. Tell me what you thought.**

**|REVIEW|**


	90. Chapter 74: Part IV

**Hey, Folks. **So, first things first, I want to say thank you for your patience. I know when I announced that the story would only be 75 chapters you guys never expected each of the remaining chapters to be as long and plot-filled as they have been.

I also want to give a special shout out to the lovely _**SummerD123**. _Your passion and boundless support of my writing overall is invaluable, but these past few weeks especially has been nothing short of amazing.

**Random FYI: **Im working on an [original] serial for my upcoming blog so be on the lookout for that!

**Chapter 74: Part IV**

\- Veritable Old Lady Crow

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***MARCH * ~^MARCH ^~ MARCH * MARCH* MARCH ~^ MARCH ^~ MARCH * MARCH * MARCH ~*^ MARCH***

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_**March **16**th**_

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Many months had passed by since he'd been there last. And as he sat there alone, in the middle of an almost empty parking lot, Arthur Knowles took a moment to reflect on what his life used to be and what it now was. He gripped the steering wheel absently, his fingers tapped along the worn leather cover. Staring up at the dusty, graffiti-ridden awning, his eyes momentarily glazed over.

_The Hairy Dog, Bar &amp; Lounge—_the church he'd worshiped, the chapel he'd laid slain, haunted by the spirit of a woman who'd gutted him and left him behind long before Cancer had taken its toll. It was those very same double doors he stared after now, that he'd walked in through and stumbled out of more times than he could count on all the fingers of all the helping hands lent out to Tara—the daughter he'd checked out on.

He'd promised himself he'd never come back here, that he'd never again seek comfort in a misguided, bottomless religion that had almost cost him the beautiful, ever-resilient teenage girl who should have always come first, the daughter that still put him first when he didn't deserve it. Arthur had made, not just Tara, but himself a promise that he fully intended to keep even as he finally pulled the handle on the driver's side door, stepping out into the breezy California weather to make his way towards the bar he'd probably kept afloat single-handedly.

The bell chimed, a familiar sound ringing above his head as he entered the lounge. Jerry, the bartender glanced up from the soiled dishrag he'd been running along the bar countertop with genuine surprise in his warm, brown eyes. "Haven't seen you around here lately," the intrigued bartender commented. His smile was wry, and the subtle shake of his head coincided with the rapid about face from wide-eyed shock to a poorly concealed smirk of expectance as he turned to grab a glass and a bottle of Arthur's favorite from the middle shelf.

Arthur's outstretched hands were waiting for him when the younger man turned back to face him. He held a single palm up, right next to his smiling face, a wordless mime of, "No thanks," as he extended his other hand, holding out a thick, white envelope. "That's the last of what I owe you. I would have written you a check, but I know you and your Old man prefer cash whenever it's an option."

"Thanks." Jerry's eyes wavered, flitting back and forth between the awkward smile still twitching the corners of the elder man's mouth and the bottle of Old Crowe still on the counter between them. "You sure?"

Arthur chuckled lightly. "I guess you guys are probably gonna miss me," the self-deprecating father joked. "I've pretty much been keeping you guys in business all these years."

Jerry snorted, but it took nothing away from the minute nod of respect he'd offered up. But then he turned his head to the left of them, jutting his thumb towards the corner booth Arthur had spent more nights than he cared to remember sleeping one off until Tara finally came to pick him up. "There's always another one," Jerry told him, swiping the unused glass and bourbon off the counter to return them to the shelves. Truer words had never been spoken, and the bitter reality had an image to support the cynical barkeeps thesis. Arthur watched as a man several years older than him stumbled his way out of the booth, knocking chairs over, tripping over his own feet, and finally falling to the bar floor, only to half-crawl his way towards the restroom. But it wasn't just the sight of him that made Arthur's blood run cold, it wasn't just a front row seat to the live reenactment of his past self that had formed the lump in his throat.

It was the little girl the drunken man had been sitting with—the pretty, dark-haired child scribbling away in her coloring book, all alone in the booth. It was yet another innocent kid left behind, another one forgotten all about, another one cast aside in favor of some tortured souls poison of choice. "When did you start letting minors into the bar?" Arthur fumed, turning to glare at the man behind the counter. "Your license is at risk just by her sitting there. Did you know that?"

Jerry chuckled, his head was shaking again and the incredulity was back, shining in his eyes the same as it'd been when Arthur first refused a drink. "Yeah," Jerry answered, cocking an eyebrow. "I knew I was at risk when I used to let _your_ daughter pick you up off the floor and drive you home….Thing is, I know firsthand just how shitty the foster system is….so to me, you were the lesser evil…and _that_ little girl….her father's got demons worse than yours….He's got a Hell of a lot more to grieve over than a dead wife who fucked some SAMCRO patch behind his back."

"It doesn't matter—"

"Yeah, Yeah, _yeah._" Jerry rolled his eyes. "You people always have a sermon to share with the world…you're usually right about everything say, too…and yet you're always the same deadbeat drunks getting that _same _speech from the next guy with a couple chips in his pocket when _you_ fall off the wagon….Good luck with your sobriety, Art. For Tara's sake at least, I hope you stick with it. But all I needed was what was left on your tab…you can save all that good ole reflection for your AA meetings. I'm running a business, not a church…ain't no Saints here…and you know that better than anyone."

Arthur took the truth like a champ, swallowing it all down, and just like bourbon he used to love so much, the bitter taste came without a chaser. "At least tell me you took his keys."

Jerry scoffed, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. "You _recovering alcoholics, _Man," He mused, making air quotes with his fingers. "Did I ever let _you _drive home drunk? His wife's shift ends in about an hour…then she'll come and get them."

"I thought you said his wife died," Arthur inquired, scrunching his eyebrows.

"I said he had his own demons," Jerry corrected, turning his back to grab a bag of nuts from the bottom cabinets. He grabbed the empty bowl on the counter, refilling it. "He lost his daughter," the bartender explained, finally looking up to meet Arthur's questioning gaze. "She was the Nurse who got killed on her way to work by that FBI Agent's kid—you know, the crazy one who forced ya daughter into marrying him on TV?" Arthur followed his eyes, joining him in staring after the little girl still scribbling away with her coloring pencils. "I gotta tell ya, Man….after I saw _that _shit? I thought for sure you'd be right back in here with him…but then I guess you wouldn't have had anyone to come pick you up off the floor. You know…with your daughter being in the hospital….Hey, good for you, Man…at least no one can say you didn't step up when it really mattered, Huh?"

Arthur's frown deepened the longer he watched, the longer he stood there—blinking back memories of his own transgressions against the last person who deserved it. "The little girl….is she…was she—"

"She's his granddaughter," Jerry answered, nodding. "Sweet girl….maybe he'll get his shit together like you did…or maybe he won't…either way, I still gotta pour it to get paid, you know what I'm saying?"

"Yeah." Arthur nodded stiffly. He reached for the cellphone ringing in the pocket of his jeans, flipping it open, against his ear just as the older version of himself stumbled his way back out of the bathroom with a wet stain trailing along the inside of his pants leg. "_Hey, Gracie," _the guilty father spoke into the phone. "….No, meatloaf sounds great. Is Jackson"—Arthur chuckled, shaking his head—"I don't even know why I fixed my mouth to ask….yeah, everything sounds great….I'm on my way home now….of course not. What kind do you want? Okay, great….I'll get some vanilla ice cream to go with it….right….see you in a bit…_Bye."_

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

**_March _**_18**th**_

"…..on average you can expect a salary anywhere from eighty thousand dollars a year or more, depending on rank, the county you serve, your test scores on different examinations, and of course there's politics involved—there are _many, _many factors but one thing I will tell you, is that you don't go into law enforcement for the money. It's not about the paycheck, nor is it just about giving out tickets and patrolling the streets with a gun holstered at your side….it's about…."

Jackson Teller had no idea what it was about.

Not according to the fresh-faced rookie representing the Police Academy at the CHS Career Day fair anyway.

He was way too busy sucking kisses on his girlfriend's neck, while she struggled to put one hundred percent of her focus into reading one of the armful of pamphlets in her hands. "Why are you even reading those, Babe?" Jax whispered in her ear as his curled his arms around her waist, pulling her back tighter against him. "You already know what you want to do."

Tara managed to turn her head to glance back at him. And her look of incredulity was met with a lingering kiss on her lips before Mrs. Randall, the school Nurse (representing the prospective career path) cleared her throat loudly, promptly putting a stop to the public display of affection that was getting more and more inappropriate the longer they stood there. "_Duh_, Jax," Tara said, rolling her eyes. "These are for _you," _the sternly-toned brunette insisted, holding out the assortment of info-packets in her hand. "I wish you'd bother to read at least _one _of them."

"I don't have to," Jax insisted, smiling as he framed her face in his hand. The smirk he'd been holding in escaped him as he nodded towards the uniformed man still rambling away about the many rewarding things about pursuing a career in law enforcement. "Listening to all the career reps is enough for me to get an idea of what I might be interested in."

Tara's eyes were twitching, and there was a subtle flare to her nostrils. Even annoyance and impatience looked cute on her, making it harder than imaginable to keep his own expression neutral instead of smiling—or kissing her some more. "Feel free to tell me what interests you at any time, Jackson."

It was a valiant effort on his part, trying to stop his eyes from traveling down to enjoy the perfect view Tara's V-neck T-Shirt was giving him as she crossed her arms over her chest. He failed miserably, of course. But when she caught him staring he chose to cock an eyebrow at her in challenge. "You really want me to tell you…what I'm _interested _in, right now?" Jax sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down on it as his eyes flitted further down, past the swell of her breasts, onto those never-ending legs peeking out of her denim shorts. "I can give _you _a thirty minute presentation on that."

"_Ugh_." Tara scowled instead of blushing, or even offering a begrudged smile like he'd expected. "We've been here over an hour, Jax," Tara complained. "We've gone from one booth to the next and all you've done so far is collect the free _pens! _You promised me you were going to take this seriously_."_

"I _am." _Jax gripped her arm with one hand, using the other to pull her by her waist, effectively stopping her from widening the distance between them. "I am taking it seriously, Babe. But I already told you none of this shit was for me," He explained, nodding a head towards the pamphlets in her hand. "The AirForce? Nursing School?" Jax nodded his head up towards the couple standing two rows in front of them. Tara followed his eyes to see David Hale and Stephanie Eglee—who had her own handful of pamphlets—standing in the crowd with them. "This Police Academy shit? It's got Davey-boy written all over it. I'm sorry, Babe. But I'm not making a pass on wearing a leather Kutte just so I can wear a badge and twirl a flashlight. I'm _listening…_I promise. But so far I don't see anything here for me. Maybe if they had something for…I don't know….maybe writing or someth—"

"Journalism major!" Tara practically shrieked, grabbing his hand, while using her other to point towards one of the booths on the other end of the cafeteria. "We can go to that one next!"

"_Shit," _Jax hissed under his breath. Thankfully Tara was too busy dragging him across the room to notice. "I didn't mean journa—Tara," Jax stopped short, forcing her to follow, gently turned her around to face him. "I don't want to be a reporter. Or write for some shitty newspaper. I—"

"You don't _have _to be a journalist," Tara interrupted, shaking her head. "And you can always switch your major if you want. But it's a good place to start if you want to learn how to become a good writer. And, well….you're already a great writer," She encouraged, pressing a palm to his cheek. "You always have been…you just never—"

"_Applied myself_," Jax finished, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. "Yeah, yeah, yeah….I guess it never occurred to you or any of our teachers that there was a reason behind that…"

When his eyes finally flitted down to meet hers, Tara's were facing the floor between them, right along with deep, downward curve of her mouth. "Babe—"

"I'm sorry," Tara muttered, shaking her head as she slowly met his eyes. "I'm not trying to make you—I don't want you to think—I just…._let's just go…. _There's no more regular classes for the day so…I guess we can go see a movie or something."

Jax raked a hand through his hair, sighing as he glanced towards the crowded first floor hallway, wall to wall with prospective colleges. "I thought you wanted to check out some of the colleges that are here….see what programs you like?"

Tara shrugged. "I can just read the catalogues they have in the guidance office," She responded. "And besides….I already know where I'm going."

"Yeah?" Jax's eyebrows rose, genuine interest coloring his features. He'd been waiting for her to pick a college. That was the only way he could finally know once and for all just how impossible it would be to keep up with her. "Which one?"

Tara's smile was sad, amplifying the loss of sparkle in her eyes—the excitement and determination she'd been fueled by moments before as she set out to find a reason for her boyfriend to go to college with her so she didn't have to leave him behind. "Easy," Tara answered, shrugging her shoulders again. "Whichever one gives me the best scholarship…not like I can afford school otherwise."

"Well if that's how you're ranking them it's going to take your forever to decide Tara," Jax told her, grinning. "Because wherever you apply, they're all going to want you."

"Mrs. Palmer thinks I have a real shot at Harvard," Tara commented, glancing somewhere over his shoulder.

Jax nodded. "That's in Boston, right?"

"Yeah…"

_I hope they run out of fuckin scholarships, _Jax thought to himself. But although he'd bitten his tongue, the look in her eyes told him she'd read him loud and clear without hearing the words. "My grades are bullshit, Tara," Jax explained. "The only reason I passed half the classes I took last year and Freshman year was because I cheated or the teacher gave me a pass so they didn't have to deal with _that Teller _kid ending up on their roster again the next year….My grades are good now…and I actually earned them thanks to you but….Babe, I could get nothing but straight A's next year and it still won't matter. No way in Hell I'm getting into _Harvard…_or _Yale _or any of the Ivy league schools that are gonna be banging on your door months from now….I was okay with that…_before…._and now I just…."

"It's not just about the money, Jax." Tara stepped closer to him, smiling when he reached for her hands, joining both of them with his own. "It's not just about the biggest scholarship to me. I just don't care what college I go to, just as long as it has a good program…and that doesn't have to be Harvard or Yale or….anywhere out of the State….there's plenty of good schools right here in California…and not just for me….there's some good schools for you, too…I don't care if I get into an Ivy….I just want…I just want us to be together, Okay? I want us to _stay _together….and I don't want you to feel like I'm leaving you behind but….there's only one way that doesn't happen, Jackson…" Jax pulled her in closer, leaning his head down, lightly pressing their foreheads together, the tips of their noses brushing. "You gotta move forward, too…."

Jax nodded once. As he tilted his head back, his lips brushed across hers lightly on his way back up, lingering just long enough to earn yet another round of throat-clearing, this time from a direction neither had bothered to look. "So, what kind of classes am I looking at for this whole journalism thing?"

Tara smiled. "I could tell you what I _think," _the brunette teased, releasing one of his hands. "Or we can consult an expert." Jax smirked, shaking his head as she turned around, once again pulling him alongside her as they made their way towards the Journalism booth. "Hi! We were wondering if you could tell us about what you can expect as a journalism major."

The pretty redhead standing behind the table adjusted her glasses, pushing them up the bridge of her nose. It was in perfect sync with the rapid ascension of her smile—the renewed enthusiasm the woman felt after spending the past twenty minutes listening to Stacy Wilson talk about her dreams of being the most popular media correspondent for all of the hottest Hollywood red-carpet events. "Are you interested in being a journalist?"

"Not exactly," Jax interjected, stepping forward. He swallowed the chuckle threatening to rumble in his chest at the genuine surprise in Tara's eyes when he actually spoke up, unlike all the other times he'd left her to ask and answer questions. "I'm not really all that into the whole being a reporter thing. The idea of working for a newspaper doesn't really appeal to me either honestly. But according to Ms. Know-it-all here, I don't necessarily have to do any of things."

Redhead leaned over the table a little, momentarily ignoring the glasses slowly making their way down to the tip of her nose again as she cocked an eyebrow at him. "Do you like writing?"

Jax paused for a moment, thinking back to the journal tucked away in his back pocket. All the many words he'd written—it wasn't poetry, nor could it be considered a literary masterpiece in the making. Of that, he was certain. And yet, filling all of the many pages had been nothing short of liberating. Pen and paper had no judgement, no vote. It simply received his truth, and allowed him to turn to a new page. "I _love _it," He admitted, finally responding to the question that, unbeknownst to him, had taken a few minutes for him to answer.

"Well then," The beaming redhead said, extended her hand towards him. "My name's Margaret Murphy," She announced. "I teach English at USC and journalism at Berkeley City College. And I know you _say _you're not interested in Journalism but we're going to see just what you know about the major. And regardless of what writing career field you ultimately choose, on behalf of writing community as a whole I just want to say—_welcome to the Bullpen!"_

Jax glanced towards the green-eyed brunette standing next to him, sliding her arm underneath his, and joining them at the elbow. Tara was going to have to stop smiling at him the way she was, stop looking at him like he'd just made her world stand still. At least until Mrs. Murphy finished her presentation. That was the only hope of him actually paying attention. _"I love you," _Tara whispered, kissing his cheek. It was way too chaste for his liking, over much too quickly, her head turning back to face the booth before he could steal another, this one for his lips. But he was going to have to wait for more, and hold onto to the promise of it in her eyes because the redhead journalist had finally emerged from underneath the table, with a fresh pamphlet in her hand, extending it towards him.

And this time, instead of Tara, _he _took it.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

"I know, I know….I'm sorry….I've been meaning to get to it….that's bullshit, Duncan and you know it," She said, laughing. "…._What?..._Well I guess that one weekend in Tahiti doesn't count, Huh? You're full of it—_you're full of it! _Listen, I gotta—_yeah, _I've already started figuring that out….I'll let you know as soon as I….yeah….._sure…._that actually sounds nice….alright, but listen, I gotta go… okay, I'll talk to you soon…I…._me, too…_Bye."

The rolling chair creaked underneath her as she sat back. Diane dropped the cellphone in her right hand onto the desk, replacing it with her left one—flipping them so the palms touched, and she could lightly brush her thumb back and forth, along the tanned lined of her left finger—the one still empty of the wedding band she used to wear. It wasn't a smile, but hardly a frown either that twitched the corners of her mouth. And whatever the emotion was that fueled her expression was irrelevant.

It had done absolutely nothing to change the mood of the man darkening the doorway of the private office. For the past few minutes, Padraic Telford had stood there, fuming in silence while she talked to him—while _they _talked, no longer like the bitter soon-to-be divorcees but rather old flames that hadn't quite doused the fire between them.

"So I guess your cellphone does work after all."

Diane jumped at the sound of his voice, spinning the chair around, gaping at him with wide-eyes and an half-opened mouth. "Jesus Christ."

"I haven't seen you in a while," Padraic continued, strolling into the office. He stopped just shy of the chair where she sat, leaning back against the desk. The leather vest on his back squeaked as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I come by to see you, Tara tells me you left work—_carpooling _with a co-worker…that's why your car was still in the driveway…your brother hasn't changed much…he's still a holier-than-thou asshole he was when we were teenagers….thinks he can judge me—lecture me, _threaten _me not to come around anymore…I guess he never quite figured it out…that the only reason I let him keep talking shitee is because I knew how you'd feel about me loosening his teeth a bit…"

Her initial shock wore off, giving way to the annoyance he'd expected next—it was crystal clear in her features. Her disappointment, her anger, but the source of the latest bridge between them was still unknown. "You knew how I felt about a lot things," Diane hedged, crossing her own arms. "And it's never stopped you from doing whatever the Hell you wanted."

Padraic's light chuckle was bold, and even more bitter than the disdain darkening her normally bright eyes. "So," the irate Scotsman pressed on. "Now that I've finally got a hold to you, What's the status on your divorce? You and the suit still fighting over who gets to keep the china? Or did you decide to stay happily fuckin miserable for the kid's sake? I'm only asking because I know how much you love to change your mind and leave me to be the last person to know about it."

"_Fuck you." _Diane spun the chair back around, facing the opposite end of the small office. "Get out of my office, Padraic. I'm _working."_

"Oh, is this what you do at work all day?" Padraic challenged. "You sit on your arse and have phone sex with your husband? The one you're supposed to be leaving?"

Diane scoffed, glancing back to raise her eyebrows at him. "Don't you have a shallow grave to dig or something?"

"I don't know, Babe." Padraic fumed. He didn't even bother checking to see if anyone was watching before stepping back to slam the office door shut behind him. "Is Mr. Kane back in town?"

"You know, you've got a lot of fuckin nerve," Diane hissed, spinning her chair around to scowl at him without straining her neck. "Storming in accusing _me _of going back my word when you can't even honor yours—you _never _have…and it's always one excuse after another, but just this _once…_I really wish you could have followed through."

Padraic leaned back against the desk, shook his head. "What the Hell are you talking about, Diane?"

"_I know what you did_."

Diane let her words hang in the air between them, allowing him a moment to decipher her words, the disappointment and anger twisted up her features. "Ask me _how. _Go ahead…ask me how I found about what you did…about you killing Zobelle and all of those other Neo-Nazi assholes…about how Chibs didn't _really_ need you to come with him to pick up Carrie and Fiona because they didn't actually show up until last week… let's talk about what you were _really _doing when you showed up late to take me out for Valentine's Day. Let's talk about _your _word, Padraic."

Padraic was shaking his head again, this time slower—and with a frown deepening the longer he studied the resentment in her eyes. "This is why you've been avoiding me? You're the one who called it, Babe. I did _exactly _what you knew I'd do the second you told me. You know I'd go after _anyone_ that hurt you."

"_Bullshit!" _Diane growled, standing up to point in his face. "Don't you even try to put this on me…make it about what _I _wanted you do….This wasn't about me at all! If you really gave a shit about what I wanted you would have kept your promise. You would have proved me wrong…_God…_all these years thinking I couldn't tell you without risking your—"

"I'm _fine, _Di!"

"Today, you are!" Diane shrieked. "But what about tomorrow, Huh? What about tonight? You still didn't ask me how I know, Pat—go ahead,_ ask_ me."

"Diane—"

"ASK ME!" Diane's head veered towards the closed blinds of the dimly-lit back office. Clamping a hand over her mouth stifled most of the sob that tore from her throat as she squeezed her eyes shut. Tears slipped through the cracks of her lids as she shook her head over and over. "You don't _think," _the anguished mother-to-be croaked. "You're reactive and you don't care where the chips fall afterwards…all you can think about is playing your hand and….I can't go through this again…._I love you so much…._and that used to be enough—that used to be all that mattered but we're not kids anymore…"

"It _had _to happen, Baby." Padraic stepped closer to her, slowly dropping both arms at his side when she flinched away from his touch. "It's who I _am, _Di…you know me better than anyone…you knew….you _know," _the Scotsman snarled, nostrils flaring. "I'll take care of any fuckin body that hurt you… they don't get a pass….I couldn't just let it go—"

"I know." Diane responded, shaking her head. "You _couldn't _let it go…not even for me….not even after _promising _me you would…and that's why this isn't on you…it's on me_…_I've known the truth since we were nineteen…when I fell in love with you…even then I knew…and you proved it to me over and over again….I _really _wanted to believe that things changed," she muttered, rubbing at her eyes. "But they haven't….it doesn't matter how much I love you…I _hate _who you have to be when I'm not around…when you put that Kutte on…and it d-d-doesn't matter how much _you _love me….what the outlaw in you wants always comes first…_I can't be second anymore_…"

"You were never second, Di." Padraic pressed a palm to her face, a gentle urgency to keep her eyes on his—to maintain the connection neither one them had ever been able to break. "I _asked _you…you don't remember that? You said you supported me…you said—"

"What was I _supposed_ to say?" Diane countered. The agony he felt when she pushed his hand away from her paled in comparison to the pain she felt doing it. "Was I supposed to make you choose? Me or the Club? Leave with me or stay with your Uncle? I already knew which one you would choose."

"That shit doesn't even matter anymore, Babe. It's ancient history. This is _now…._this is _us…_we got a chance to start over and—"

"And you did the same shit you did before."

Padraic's mouth snapped shut as he stepped back, elbows out, hands pressing against the top of his head as he spun towards the corner wall, then the other—pacing, thinking hard, shaking his head because the words he desperately needed were nowhere near the surface.

Finally, he came to a stop, back still facing her as he locked his eyes on the wall, fighting the urge to pummel through it with his bare hands. "So you're choosing him….you're going with what's safe."

_"Yes."_

Padraic spun back around at the admission, and it didn't matter how widely his nostrils flared or how narrow his eyes were because she didn't have to squint to see the moisture shining in his eyes. "It's because of the baby," He surmised, clenching his jaw tight. "I never really had a chance, did I? I should have known better when I saw you slipping your ring back on your finger after you left that first night…maybe it wasn't just about settling debt…maybe it was more than punishing the people who took you away from me…who took our..."—He squeezed his eyes shut, blinking long and hard until the audacity of pointless hope for the child they could have had together released the hold on his normal voice. Clearing the gravel, Padraic's lids flew open, meeting her gaze again. "….maybe I did it because I knew you'd want out eventually…maybe I wanted it to be on _my _terms this time…I guess I just didn't think it would still feel this shitty."

"Duncan has a daughter," Diane told him, forcing a painful smile across her face. "He found out about her right before we got married…and he didn't tell me…I had to _find _out about it years later…I guess I'm just destined to attract men who think keeping secrets from me is for _my _own good instead of their own."

Padraic glanced down towards her hands, fixating on the left one—the ring finger, still absent of her wedding band. "That's why you came back to Charming."

"It's one of the reasons." Diane nodded. "And at the time I thought I'd only have one reason to stay….I left him a note," She admitted, smirking as she shook her head at the memory. "Just like the one I left you….stuck it on the fridge….I packed up all my things and didn't look back."

"No, but you're looking back now."

Diane mouth was spread into a rueful smile again, and her head was steady shaking—auburn curls bouncing around her face. "He put our house on the market," She told him. "He was already on the plane before the 'For Sale' was even posted… he was scouting for new real estate—right here in Charming after being here all of five minutes….he'd already started negotiations to promote his VP to President of the company board so he could leave and move here with me and the deadbeat drunk brother I used to complain about…_if _that's what I wanted…in his mind? We weren't really over….I just needed him to come after me…I needed to know he'd do whatever he could to make things work with us…that he _loved _me and he wasn't willing to just let me go…" Diane's head tilted to one side, her light eyes briefly flitted towards her naked, left ring finger. "…even now I know in my heart that what he did to me…going behind my back to Art….he was only doing what he thought I needed…he made the right choice for me—the _hard _choice, so that I didn't have to live with regretting the wrong one."

Padraic bit down hard as he could on his bottom lip, but the quivering still shook a few tears free from his lashes. "Why didn't you tell me what this was for you, Huh? If all you wanted was to get _fucked—_if all you needed was a way to fuck _him _why didn't you—why would you even—_goddamn it, _Di!"

"_I didn't use you," _Diane sobbed. Futilely, she swiped her hands at the sudden rush of angry, anguished tears flowing down her face. "I used HIM! I've been using him ever since I met him! Trying to replace what I had with you when I knew it wouldn't work! _He _gave me an out…and I took it…and now I'm stuck between the father of my child and the man who never learned how to put me _first! _No, I'm not choosing him. I'm choosing _us," _She croaked, pressing both of her hands to her stomach. "And the answer _is _yes…I have to go with what's safe…with what's safe for _us."_

Padraic's eyebrows were twisted up, his chin veered left to right, and his palm were raised towards the ceiling, arms extended. "You're talking in circles, Baby…Is it _over? _Can I fix this? I don't know what to do—I don't what you want—"

"I _told _you what I wanted and you didn't listen—"

"It's already done, Diane! I can't take it back…I need you to tell me what you—"

"_I want another shot to do things different_!" Diane cried, lips trembling. "I want you to go back in time and keep your word because then everything wouldn't be ruined….then I'd be able to sleep at night without worrying about you….then I won't be stuck waiting….waiting for the other shoe to drop…waiting by the phone for your collect call from _prison_." She shook her head, clamping a hand to her mouth as the confused expression on his face only deepened. "…Jesus, Pat….you have no idea what you've done…and you can't fix it….God help me, he's just like _you…_revenge is in his blood and I broke my word…I _should_ have kept my word…and I should have never trusted you would keep yours."

The unspoken truth hung in the air between them, slicing at the tension, and all the while, magnifying the severity of what his rage-driven act of passion had set in motion—the Past that he'd viciously clawed away at, only to spite the face that should have been their future.

"You made a deal with your Uncle."

Diane nodded stiffly, sniffling into the tissue she'd pulled from the box on the desk. "He knew what you would do if you found out what happened to me…we made a deal…He was going to use RICO to take down Zobelle's organization…they were all going to prison…and once his case was shut he'd let me get _my _revenge…at the time I was too bitter over everything I'd lost to see clearly…I shouldn't have done it….but I didn't know how to be with you and not tell you…and I couldn't take any more pain, Padraic… Clay would have killed you…he would have gotten away with it… Zobelle, too…and when you didn't even….you didn't even _try_ to come after me…."

"_Gemma." _Padraic's gaze was scorching hot, and absent of the tears he'd been fighting before. "That stupid... selfish….lying _cunt…._she told me you"—once again, words momentarily left him as he buried his face in his hand, scrubbing his palm across his hardened features.

"She didn't know, Pat." Diane shook her head gently. "This one's not on her."

"She knew about _Clay_—she knew who he really _was," _Padraic fumed. "That's more than enough…it's….._Jesus…_you know what, Di? It doesn't matter, Baby," He assured, reaching for her hands, trapping them both within his. "We're protected…legally he can't touch us…there's no witnesses," he explained, dropping his voice to a whisper. "There's only one other way to come at us and now that I know…we'll be ready for him."

"You don't get it, Pat." Diane squeezed his hands in hers. "_He's _the reason you couldn't get to Clay…holding him in solitary all those days? That was him. _He _made that happen…you have no idea what those men were doing to him….because I _thought_ that was what I wanted—because I thought that was what would make it better, but it didn't…and it doesn't matter how much I regret it because just like what you did, I can't take it back… He doesn't _need _witnesses…Lee doesn't have _bylaws _to live by…he doesn't give a shit what's legal….and I gave him a way to make me pay…no matter what I do I'm going to pay…I have my child to think about_…._I can't choose _you _this time…"

"Don't choose me, Diane—choose _us." _Padraic released her hands, reaching his own up to frame her face between them. Gripping her tear-stained cheeks, he slanted his mouth over hers—coaxing her mouth open, deepening the kiss, strengthening the connection neither soul wanted to part with. Love wouldn't let him wait, it made him desperate to nurture the single aspect of their soul-deep connection that had never faltered.

As his right hand slowly made it ways around, to the back of her head, fingers threading into his hair, his other hand gently pulled at the drawstrings of her uniform pants. His fingers danced along the elastic waistband of her scrubs, thumbs dipping into the sides of them, then towards the back to cup her ass—pulling her in tight against him until she gasped into his mouth.

Diane pulled away from him, lips smacking as they parted ways. The tip of her nose tickled his as she shook her head. "This won't change anything," She whispered against his mouth, pressing her palm over the hand he'd been using to unfasten the SAMCRO belt buckle around his waist. She was trying to say goodbye—to make it clear that any hope of saving herself meant sacrificing everything they could have hoped to have together.

Padraic answered her with a kiss first, then his own breathless declaration. "It never does," He acknowledged, cocking his head sideways, brushing his mouth against her ear. "But it always feels so good to try," He whispered, sucking her earlobe into his mouth. "….and I don't know how to give this up…I don't know how to give you up..'

"_Padraic..." _Diane moaned against his shoulder, opening her mouth to latch onto it, digging her teeth into the leather-clad muscle to keep from crying out as his hand made its way back inside her pants, brushing her panties aside to push his fingers inside her—not one, but two, and a third one not to long after that, pressing the very spot with his middle the way only he knew how. "_Oh shit…._Baby, please….you're just making it—_oh…_you're…_Damn it_, Pat….."

She could blame it on all the hormones coursing through her body, but the truth was far from being that simple. And he could try to convince himself he'd only come there to confront her with his words but even the voice in his head knew he was full of shit.

It was a need that had gone unanswered for so many years—a highly addictive habit that had been kicked, only to be renewed, rekindled with just one little taste. They'd fallen off the wagon hard, and they were both heading for rock bottom fast—but damn it, if they weren't doomed to enjoy one Hell of a ride, the whole way down. "_I'm at work," _Diane moaned, tilted her head back to give his lips better access to the pulse throbbing on her neck.

Then his phone rang.

And the piercing, buzzing sound served as a brutal reminder, inciting a sense of déjà vu that had Diane pulling away, and turning her back to him, only to remain rooted to the spot. The pain of walking away hurt almost as much as it felt to hear the subtle flip of the prepaid cellphone in Padraic's hand when he pressed it to his ear. "_Yeah," _Padraic growled into the phone. His irritation at being interrupted was clear in his voice, but not nearly enough to absolve the intrusion he'd once again allowed during a moment that should have only been them.

SAMCRO—the fence forever between them, always throwing a wrench into whatever happiness they'd managed to scrape together.

"Are you serious?" Padraic howled behind her. "Can't it wait? I'm in the middle of—_what? _No….Yes, I'm sure _asshole…_what the Hell does that have to do with…._fine…._yeah, alright, whatever…I'm on my way."

Diane was already walking back towards the desk chair when he snapped the phone shut and reached for her. "My breaks almost over," She announced, swiping up the papers on the desk, stacking them neatly into the manila folder they'd come from. "I still need to make copies of all of these so…"

"There's something going down at Reaper," Padraic explained, stopping in front of her when she stood back up. "Kozy's being a dick right now. He won't tell me what's going on. He just says I need to—"

"_I know." _Diane stopped short of walking past him when he grabbed her by her arm. Her hand was splayed against his chest, stopping him from deepening the kiss beyond a chaste peck on the lips when he reached to run his fingers through her hair again. "You have to go. I get it…"

"We're going to get through this, Baby." Padraic brushed his knuckles across her cheek, pressing just a little harder against her chin until she met his eyes. "_I love you so much, _Di…and I'm not letting anyone or anything hold me back anymore….I'm not walking away and I'm not letting you walk away either. We're gonna figure it out. I promise…"

Diane smiled as she tilted her head up to kiss him—and this time she gave him free reign to take it as deeply as he wanted, as deep as the moment allowed until the vibrating phone in his pocket went off, interrupting them again. "_I love you, too._"

They were her parting words before she brushed past him, leaving him alone. In the office? Or in the Past? Padraic hoped for the former, but the note of defeat poorly concealed within her heartfelt declaration made it hard to truly appreciate the words he'd spent most of his adult life yearning to hear her say again.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

Tara was sick and tired—and there was a laundry list of reasons why.

Every time she felt like the world was finally moving on, somehow she ended up right back in the same dark and scary place they pulled her back to without an ounce of consideration. Today was supposed to be about her future—her and Jax's future together, with each other. And yet for reasons beyond her understanding, not a single one of the college reps she'd spoken to could manage to stay focus on discussing her GPA, her love of math and science, or even her current lack of extracurricular activities outside of part-time work. It was one shitty segue after another, until she'd finally had to send Jax off to catch up with Lowell and _Wendy—_of all people—just to keep him out of jail until his upcoming court date.

Tara was sick of people finding ways to bring up Joshua Kohn and their shitty college newspaper, throwing around words like _exclusive, _all while practically foaming at the mouth as they stared at her—the kidnapper's bride, the soon-to-be sixteen year old girl whose face had covered _Time Magazine—_the Phoenix risen from the ashes, according to them. She was the strong, valiant teenage girl who had overcome her tragedy, and a gifted, intelligent young lady to boot. Yeah, Tara Knowles would be the perfect student to join their list of future alumni and not just for her smarts, but also the celebrity appeal.

Everyone wanted to be the University that granted a full-ride education to the victim who overcame her trauma and went on to be a success—and every fuckin body wanted it publicized, formally announced to the press because not even the Ivy's could go wrong with a little more bragging rights.

Above all else, Tara was sick and tired of constantly having to brush her own emotions aside—even for the handsome, blue-eyed boy who never hesitated to do the same for her. It was days like this that she understood Opie keeping his distance from everyone. She couldn't even fix her face into a scowl, and sharpen her claws—or better yet, her tongue. Before she could even open her mouth to lash out, Jax was already flying off the handle on her behalf.

Clearly, somewhere along the way Jackson Teller had forgotten that Tara Knowles didn't need a boy to handle her shit. And it wasn't hard to understand that either—it was all too easy to be so goddamn understanding because even according to the relentless spectators and the media, Jax was forever her savior. Why should she be given the opportunity to tell the Yale rep whispering about her into the cellphone pressed to his ear that what happened with her Joshua Kohn was none of his fuckin business? She had Jax—and he was already jumping up to go outlaw on his ass, minus the leather kutte that he'd promised her over and over that he didn't want.

"Are you alright, Tara?" Tara turned her head, abandoning her lazy search through the crowd for her M.I.A boyfriend—the one she'd told to leave her alone to handle her interviews. "You look miserable."

It was the gloomy expression on Stephanie Eglee's face that seemed more worthy of the question of concern the blonde HS Junior had posed. But Tara opted against turning it back on her, choosing instead to vent some of the frustration that had built up in her chest over the past half hour. "All these college reps want to talk about is what happened to me," Tara admitted, scowling towards the hallway she'd finally escaped in favor of the cafeteria. "They barely even asked about my grades…they're too busy asking me how I'm feeling or how I've been _doing _like I signed up for therapy session…or the one on one interview they keep hinting at. It's _ridiculous_…I wish everyone would let it go…and Jax really isn't helping when he's constantly blowing up all the time. I know he's just trying to protect me, but that's kinda of the problem…all they see me as is this poor little girl that needed saving…and now _they _want to save me by giving me a free education."

"Yeah…"

Tara cocked an eyebrow in question as she watched Stephanie's mouth twitch at the corner before finally breaking into a smile. "What?" the cranky brunette demanded.

Stephanie giggled. "Nothing, it's just I was wondering what brought on the latest rumor about you and Jackson," She answered, shaking her head. "I guess I'm not the only one that saw him storm out of the Cafe a little while ago. I was in one of the stalls when Stacy and Ima came in the bathroom talking about how you two were fighting because he doesn't trust you not sleep around behind his back while you're away at college….apparently some chick named Christina told Ima that Jax and Opie beat up these two guys you had a threesome with while Jax was in juvie a couple months back…and—"

"You know what?" Tara interrupted, holding a hand up. "I really don't wanna know anything else those stupid whores have to say about me. It's just more of the same…a bunch of noise and I really don't have time for it."

"I'm sorry," Stephanie said, frowning. "I guess I'm just happy to focus on anything except my own problems."

Tara nodded. "Trust me, I know the feeling."

Stephanie turned her head slowly, and Tara followed her line of vision all the way to the Law Enforcement expo booth. Her green eyes widened, surprise brightening them, and it wasn't just the sight of Chastity standing directly in front of the table, nor the fact that she was talking with the officer behind the table that shocked her. It was sixteen year old boy standing with them. David Hale completed the circle of three, and he was laughing even as he rolled his eyes at whatever Chaz said to him next. "When we were first started going out, all David could talk about was football….attending University on a sports scholarship…going to law school, like his Old man…becoming a prosecutor…upholding the law better than the Judge ever bothered to try…"

Tara's cheeks reddened, and she hung her head, absently rubbing at the chill running up her arms. "He told me the doctor said he would make a full recovery…that he'd be able to play as if nothing happened….he said the fact that he got shot….that he got hurt trying to…."

"_Shit_, I'm sorry, Tara." Stephanie was shaking her head, chin veering left to right fast, like a bobble head. "I didn't mean it like that. Listen, he's _fine. _He told you the truth. And he's already been training hard so he'll be back out on the field this Fall."

"Oh." Tara scrunched her eyebrows together. "But then—"

"He doesn't want to go to college anymore," Stephanie explained, frowning. "As soon as he graduates he says he's joining the police academy…wants to work for San Joaquin County or….right here with Charming PD….He's been talking with that officer over there since we got here….no matter how many other booths I dragged him, too….we're sixteen years old for Christ sake…I wasn't even that into him at first….he was supposed to the rebound and now I'm screwed because I can't stop replaying it over and over again in my mind—him getting _shot _and almost dying….it makes me feel sick to my stomach."

"It was a horrible situation," Tara said. Pausing, she glanced over at the teenage boy they both cared for, even loved, but in different ways—and for different reasons. "But it's….it's….God, I really don't know what to say. I think it's great that he wants to serve and protect the community…and to be honest….I always pictured in some kind of uniform…whether it was military ...navy blue or army green….I never saw him as the guy who grew up to be _anything _like his father."

"They _always _grow up to be their fathers," Stephanie said, shrugging and shaking her head at the same time. "That's the way it works….same with us and our mothers...they say they'll _never _be like them and then they turn out the same way…that's how it's supposed to work and even it isn't I don't care—I just want him to pick _something else….._I know I'm totally being the crazy chick that's obsessed with her boyfriend right now but I can't help it….I can see us together ten years from now…and I don't want to spend a decade terrified out of mind every time the house phone rings….I don't think I can do it…but….but I _love _him."

Stephanie's candor was met with uncomfortable silence, and she was briefly given a private moment to quickly swipe away the tears threatening to fall from her eyes when Tara turned her head, and her green eyes scanned the crowd once more—looking for Jax. And for the second time, Tara's near- desperate search came to a halt when Stephanie's voice pierced through her concentration.

And this time it was laced with bitter laughter. "Oh God," Stephanie mused, sniffling. "Look who I'm complaining to...you're the one dating the future outlaw….David's not the only one who took a bullet for you…and he's not the only one who might end up dodging bullets in the future. Hey, maybe we should place bets on which one of our boyfriends is likely to get shot again…._first…._because we both know it's pretty much inevitable in this town…or the town next door, or any other county in this cesspool of a State….California jails are so full most criminals don't even serve eighty percent of their time, did you know that? I was googling the crime rate the other day and—"

"_Shut up!" _Tara snapped, finally turning to glare. "It's his life, okay? David can do whatever the Hell he wants—and becoming an officer is noble and it shows what a selfless person he is. If you don't get that maybe you should go back to the ex he was the rebound of. And just so you know, you're _wrong. _David's not the only one who wants to be his own person….Jax doesn't want to become _his _father either. He _is _going to college—_with me, _and he's going to make his own choices—and I'm going to fuckin support him because that's what you do when you love someone. You _support _them! You don't bitch and moan about them to their ex-girlfriend!"

"Tara—"

"And they didn't take a bullet _for _me—they got shot _because _of me," Tara fumed, turning on her heel to walk away. "I mean honestly, do you people ever get tired of using _my _trauma to suit your own personal interests?"

"What's going on?" David Hale slide to the side just in time to avoid another blow to the chest when Tara nearly collided with him in her rush to storm off.

"I hear you're joining the police academy," Tara said, crossing her arms as she glowered at the speechless blonde coming up behind her fast to stand next to him.

"Well yeah, I am…" David scratched his head, glancing between the two ladies, both current and former girlfriend. "What—"

Tara rose on her toes, abruptly pressing a kiss to his cheek. "That's amazing," She encouraged, doing so with the scariest smile David had ever seen her wear. "I think you'd make a _perfect _officer of the law. And you'd probably look good in uniform, too."

Before any words could find their way out of David's half-open mouth, Tara was already directing her attention towards the crowd of cheerleaders standing by the journalism booth a couple feet away. "Can't wait to see how you spin _this _one," Tara barked, flashing her middle finger at Stacy and Ima.

Tara pushed through the double doors of the school side exit, not even bothering to stop and pick up the pamphlets cascading to the floor behind her when they flew out of her back pocket.

"_Babe!" _Jax appeared out of nowhere—or more accurately, he'd jumped up from the bottom step, catching her by her waist before she could blow past him and the other two teenagers sitting with him. "Tara, what happened?"

"Nothing," Tara huffed, glaring over his shoulder at the couple behind him. "I'm just sick of answering questions about that psycho you shot."

There was way more to it, and even a generally clueless Lowell noticed. But while Wendy couldn't seem to hide the curiosity in her eyes, she wisely chose to keep her normally no-filter-having mouth firmly snapped shut—opting to lean into Lowell instead as he held her in his lap. Tara hadn't reacted to discovering her boyfriend hanging with his former Friend-with-benefits thus far, but it was safe to say Wendy wasn't so sure that Tara was above pushing Lowell's wheelchair out into oncoming traffic, even with L.J still in the seat—just to smite her.

Jax pulled her in close, curling his arms around her waist. "So I guess we both had enough of _Career day..._"

Tara's eyes were fixed on the bold, blue letters stitched into his hoodie—the |SAMCRO| logo divided, on either side of the zipper. "Can we please just get the Hell out of here?"

Jax nodded, gently pressing a thumb against her chin until she tilted her head back up to meet his eyes. "Where do you want to go?"

Tara answered against his shoulder as she hugged him, as he kissed the sweet spot next to her ear. "It doesn't matter….just as long as it's with you."

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

His smile was lazy—tired even, and visibly strained from the kind of stress Wendy could only imagine. She didn't think it was possible for Lowell Harland Sr.'s grin to spread any wider until his eyes landed on the sixteen year old boy next to her. But it wasn't just the mere sight of his son on the regulated visitor's side of the Stockton Prison picnic table that tipped the measured, nervous smile on his face all way up to the blue eyes of his eyes.

Wendy knew it was the fact that Lowell was _standing _next to her, instead of sitting in the wheelchair his father had only heard about through the letters his wife wrote to him every week. Things had been rocky with the Mr and Mrs. Harland ever since Lowell made the unilateral decision to pay the debt he felt he more owed to John Teller and SAMCRO with his freedom. Barbara Harland had chosen to immerse herself in finding a second job and rehabilitating their son. And while Lowell understood it, to say it wasn't easy would have been an understatement.

LJ wasn't completely back in the black yet though. His doctor had finally signed off on him using the walker he was currently leaning on for support, but he still hadn't quite graduated from using a wheelchair long term. Rehab wasn't a 1-2-3 process for him, but he was gradually getting there.

And it was moments like the one she'd just witnessed that made it worth all the initial Hell he'd put her through when he first started out. Especially after she'd admitted to what happened between her and Jax.

"_Hey, Son._" Lowell Sr. cleared his throat, chipping away at the thickness in his voice before gleefully noting aloud, "So you ditched the wheels, Huh?"

Lowell tried his best to hide his wince when his father clapped a hand against his back when he pulled him into a hug. He was more sore than anything, but what little pain there was lingering was more than worth it after three months of not seeing his father. "Not exactly," LJ answered, smiling when his father moved to hug the blonde standing in front of the bench next to him. "This," He gestured towards the metal walker Wendy loved to tease him about, "is just so she doesn't have to wheel me around all the time…Doc still has me on a limit for how long I can stay out of the chair."

"A limit he ignores every chance he gets," Wendy interjected, smirking when the both Junior and Sr. stopped beaming at each other to glance in her direction. "His mother's been stashing the gramp-mobile in her room so he won't pass out trying to sneak up to the kitchen for a glass of juice in the middle of the night."

LJ rolled his eyes. "Apparently it's more sensible for me to wake her up out of her sleep to help me upstairs to get it."

"That's what the mini-fridge she bought you is for," Wendy countered, cocking an eyebrow in challenge.

"And that's what they replaced the basement stairs with a ramp for. And besides…I wanted _milk."_

Wendy narrowed her eyes, twisting her mouth to one side. "No, what you want is to fall on your ass and set all the progress you've made with your recovery back. And if you keep it up that's exactly what's going to happen."

Both teenagers turned their heads towards the laughing man sitting on the other side of the table. Lowell Sr.'s expression was one of amusement, and nearly as bright as the ugly orange prison jumpsuit he was wearing. "You two sound like me and Barbara when I got into the motorcycle accident and broke my hip."

LJ's eyebrows rose. "You used to ride a motorcycle?"

Senior nodded, and when his eyes flitted down towards the table, the faltering smile on his face followed suit. "MC life ain't for everybody," He answered solemnly. "I used to think that accident was a blessing in disguise…got me over my wanna-be outlaw stage…and even though I wasn't meant to wear a Kutte…I was a damn good mechanic...John hired me on the spot..stopped us from having to move…."

LJ reached across the table, placing a hand over his father's, curling his fingers inward gently, until the elder man looked up to meet his eyes. "You're _still _a damn good mechanic, Dad. And when you get out…JT's gonna set you up just like he promised….you're right…he keeps his word…Mom won't take anything from him...but I think she knows he went behind her back through the doctors…or maybe she still thinks the insurance is covering everything…I don't know...JT's been helping keep us whole."

"Yeah…" Lowell Sr. angled his smile towards the teenage girl sitting next to him. "Looks like John's not the only one showing up for my family… I'm sorry it took so long for me to able to say it to you personally…but _thank you _for not giving up on my son….Junior lucked out…gotta good one his first try…"

Lowell Sr.'s head tilted sideways, his averted gaze was faraway, much further than the direction he chose to glance over LJ's shoulder—and his smile radiated with nostalgia as he quietly muttered, almost as an afterthought, "_Barb _was my High school sweetheart, too…I didn't date much in High school...I was real awkward—like _you _but…from the first time we met it was like….we just had this….what we had, it was…."

"You still have it, Dad." LJ nodded his head when his father meet his gaze again, following it up with a smile reassurance. "Trust me, Old Man…I take _after _mom…you used to tell me that all the time…" Wendy smiled when he reached over to grab her hand. "….the harder things get….the more difficult we are to get through to…but if you're patient….and we're _lucky _enough… you'll still be there when we finally come around."

It was a rare moment to see Wendy Case blush, and no matter who coaxed it out of her, it was just as unlikely she'd stand still long enough to allow that person to enjoy it. "Are you hungry, Mr. Harland?" Wendy blurted out, abruptly standing up to shove her hands into the front pockets of her skin-tight, high-waist pants. "LJ said the machines only take dollar bills and change," she continued, pulling out a large wad of bills, pulling the rubber band wrapped around them off. "Right now I'm carrying so many singles I feel like a stripper."

LJ chuckled along with his father as he turned to reach for the walker folded up next to him, bracing himself against to stand up. "Come on, I'll help you," He told her, glancing towards his father. "You want a cheese burger or a chicken sandwhich?"

"I think you mean a _Big Az _Cheesburger," Wendy joined in, grinning. "And they also have hot wings."

"How about I try them all out?" Lowell Sr. replied, wriggling his eyebrows as he rubbed his palms together. "And maybe some chips and a soda!"

Wendy turned to look back at him. "You want ice cream, too? I think they have _King cones!_"

"Jesus, Wendy," LJ grunted out, pausing his maneuvering towards the row of machines on the other side of the room. "Do you think maybe he can save a little for our next visit? Maybe leave some for the other inmates and their visitors?"

"Don't pay him any mind." Wendy rolled her eyes, gesturing towards him with her thumb as she shook her head at his father. "Mr. _my-mom-packs-me-hot-meals-for lunch _has no idea how horrible the food is in here. You want a King Cone or one of them toll-house cookie sandwich things?"

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

The whole street was quiet as he pulled into the driveway. Everyone either at work or still in school, making the block seem vacant, without a car and sight—and only the rumbling of the motorcycle underneath them to break the silence. Tara was already unfastening the helmet clipped onto her head as he laid his bike down on the kickstand.

Jax _loved _riding with his girl. And most days, it didn't really matter how long or short the distance. There was just something about it that always seemed to wipe the slate clea, granting them a moment of reprieve. Arms wrapped snuggly around his waist, her lips pressed against his neck, and the vibration that went beyond the rumbling of the Harley between their legs. The noise didn't matter in those moments—Not at eighty miles an hour. And however fleeting it was, the moments their ride came to an end were, for a time, completely absent of any of the stress that had plagued them before they snapped their helmets.

Jax watched as she bent forward, combing her fingers through her windswept hair before flipping the long, thick, tresses back when she stood upright. Not even the lingering tension from the Career day disaster could take away from the recurring joke between them—the biker-babe impression Tara always teased him with, usually when they were standing somewhere he couldn't do a damn thing about it. Bending over until she was practically touching her toes, breasts peeking out from the dip in her shirt when she leaned forward, the way the denim hugged her hips and ass, and those wonder-woman legs she loved to put on display in her favorite clothing of choice—the most dangerous pair of shorts in existence.

"You coming?" Tara asked, smiling. Stifled laughter was laced within her tone as she turn to walk towards her house, climbing the steps leading to her front door.

"_Not yet," _Jax mumbled under his breath. But if the look in her eyes was any indication he would be soon. As she unlocked the door, stepping inside, he watched after her—contemplating what _should_ happen next, and what he desperately wanted to happen instead. They couldn't just leave things where they'd ended back at school. Words left unspoken were always their undoing, especially during times like this. They needed to talk more about their future—together.

But as Jax twisted the keys out of his Harley, and shoved them and his hands into the front pocket of sweatshirt, he swaggered behind her with the sole purpose of focusing on the Present.

Tara was already rounding the corner, and disappearing down the hallway that led to her bedroom when he snapped the front door shut behind him. Metal clinked in the deep, back pocket of his jeans, clashing against the small, leather-bound journal inside with it. When her bedroom came into view, he found Tara sitting at the foot of her bed, cradling yet another stack's worth of her uncertain future on the bed next to her.

Columbia University was likely the catalogue on top, judging by its current location, resting on her knees. And when plopped down on the bed beside her, squinting his eyes at the yellow post-it stuck on top of the glossy cover—he could make out the note Diane had written her, informing her of the accompanying voice messages that complimented the pile of prospective college directories piled up on the bed between them. The smiley face Diane had scrawled along the bottom of the square, yellow paper reciprocated the downward curve of Tara's mouth—Jax's, too.

Why did he have to be in love with a braniac? The universe couldn't even show him mercy by giving him at least one more year. Tara Knowles was ahead of her graduating class. She'd be on her way to University while everyone else was trying on their caps and gowns. Or trying to pass twelfth grade without the gorgeous tutor who loved rewarding him when he got an answer right.

"More college stuff?" Jax voiced, stating the obvious.

Tara's initial response was to scoop up the other info-packets, lazily drop them down into her lap on top of Columbia University's, and the finally move over, close enough to rest her head against his shoulder. "Di's thinking about going back to school," She commented several minutes later. "She applied early decision to Columbia her Senior year and she got accepted… and they offered her a scholarship and everything… Padraic was supposed to finish his prospect year and then transfer out of SAMCRO… he was going to join the New York Charter…they were going to be together…..the doctor and the outlaw…it was supposed to be happily ever after."

Jax squeezed the hand laced in his, brought it up to his mouth, lightly kissing her knuckles, one after another—and each one was another long second he needed to find his argument against the parallel she'd drawn to what they were and what they might possibly become no matter how much they planned. "I know they went through a lot and…things didn't turn out exactly how they planned but…they're together _now…" _Tara lifted her head from his shoulder, turning to meet his eyes as he spoke. "….they found their way back to each other…"

Tara shook her head, this time squeezing his hand. "I don't want us to have to find our way back," She told him. "I don't want us to lose each other at all….no matter what happens…I don't want to….I don't—"

"You _won't," _Jax vowed. He whispered the promise against her lips as he leaned in to kiss her. "I couldn't leave you if I wanted to….you're part of what I am, Tara…and you're the best part…you always will be."

Tara's eyes were a sparkling green, brightened by the smile slowly spreading across her face, and the only smile that had ever made Jackson Teller's stomach turn flips melted against his own. His hands were roaming his favorite places—tangled up in her soft, silky hair, the other one scaling up and down her side, gripping her waist, nails grazing the softness of her thighs, palms squeezing her ass through her shorts, and all while Tara moaned into his mouth as he coaxed it open with his tongue.

Tara slipped her hands between their bodies as he eased her onto her back, she pulled at the zipper to his hoodie, sliding it down with one hand, while her other cupped him through his jeans, stroking him slowly while he wrestled with getting the damn hoodie and T-shirt over his head without having to let go of her. Jax's reluctant release of the velvet locks threaded through his fingers didn't last long, and Tara hadn't dared moving her head from the perfect angle he'd left it in—tilted sideways, giving him free reign to alternate between peppering hot, wet kisses all over her neck and sucking her already swollen bottom lip into his mouth.

His hands were everywhere, his hungry mouth inciting moans and gasps of delight with every flicker of his tongue, every gentle nibble against her skin as he took his time exposing more and more of it. Her shirt was off, and on the floor—finally, after a tangling of their limbs, the momentary refusal to accept basic logic in that they simply couldn't continue to hold onto each other and will their clothes to disappear with the power of their minds. Jax wouldn't have been able to enjoy the rosy peaks trapped between his lips and teeth, he couldn't suck on them, flicker his tongue in circles around her nipples until she writhed underneath him without sitting up long enough to get her shirt off.

And Tara had no choice but to release the grip she had she had on his cock if she wanted the pants still buckled around his waist to come off. The moaning brunette was a bit slow on the uptake though. She was still enjoying the feel of him in her fist, too distracted by the, "_Fuckkk," _whispered roughly against the shell of her ear to pay much attention to the zipper chafing against the back of her hand as she jerked him through the slit in his jeans and boxers.

And then there was the Adonis-like, sculpted ass hidden beneath the denim. Proof that one's disdain for baggy jeans didn't necessarily mean they wouldn't like what was underneath them. Tara liked it a lot, and her hand proved as much as it made its way around his waist, slipping into his back pocket the way he'd done to her so many times. As she palmed his ass, her nails curled inward, and her knuckles scraped against something familiar to her—so familiar it'd temporarily snapped her out of her pleasure induced- inebriation.

"Babe, what's wrong?" Jax moved his mouth off of her chest, his thumbs away from the button and zipper of her jeans, and pulled back just enough to scan her facial expression for the reason she'd tensed underneath him. Realization registered in his own eyes almost immediately, and it wasn't Tara's face, but actually what she'd pulled from his back pocket that clued him in.

Tara sat up with him as he slowly rolling off of her completely, and once again they were at the edge of her bed. But this time it wasn't a stack of catalogs between them.

It was the handcuffs he'd stolen from the Police Academy display at the Career Day Fair. While Jax stared down at the floor, Tara absently adjusted the straps of the bra pulled down past her shoulders. "Where did you get those?"

Jax sighed. "….Pens weren't the only things I took from the table," He muttered softly. One arm crossed his chest, rubbing at his bare shoulder as he avoided her eyes. "I thought it would fun if….Look, Babe…I _wasn't_ thinking, I was just….I didn't think about it until after all those Ivy league assholes kept bringing him up…kept asking you about what happened…I was going to put them back but then you got pissed and started yelling and I just…I just walked out…_I forgot I even had them…"_

He'd done the usual guy thing—he'd operated with his dick without thinking about anything else but getting it wet, deep inside her. The therapy session she'd invited him to, the day when, at her doctor's insistence, she'd told him everything Kohn had done to her—it had gone in one ear and straight out the other. He could blame it on how normal things had been these past few weeks if he wanted to, but it wouldn't change anything. He'd fucked up big time and now he was scared to even look at her. He couldn't bear to see the hurt and disappointment.

It felt like hours had passed, but only a few minutes had gone by before Jax finally braved a glance up, in her direction.

Tara was smiling at him—there was a playful glint in her eyes as they locked with his, and when he dared smiling back he got to watch the color spreading through her cheeks deepen until the blush set in her face matched the love bites he'd left all over her neck and chest. "Is there a problem…._officer?"_

His brain shut down and rebooted several times before he finally accepted that what he was seeing wasn't a glitch. Jax chuckled lightly, shook the disbelief and fear from his head as relief washed over him. "Yes, Ma'am," He drawled, biting his lip as he nodded at her. "I'm gonna have to place you under arrest…"

Tara stifled her giggles, fought hard to keep the smile off her face and stay—or more precisely—_get _into character. "Oh yeah?" Tara slid off the bed, moving to stand directly in front of him, she leaned over him, placing her hands on either side of his waist—the swell of her breasts rising and falling fast, taunting him from within the demicups of her bra. "What are the charges?"

Jax could hardly stay in character his damn self he was so excited. He cleared his throat loudly, raised his hand to slide a single strap off her shoulders. "Indecent exposure," He answered, snickering with her. Their laughter died down when, after taking a moment to stare at her, to enjoy the visual, Jax leaned forward, sucking her nipple into his mouth.

"God," Tara moaned. Her knees dipped into the bed, on either side of his waist, replacing her hands, which were tangled in his hair, hugging him in place as he begin his delicious assault on her other breast, alternating between the two. "…what happens if I resist, Baby?"

Jax pulled back to look up at her, sucking a kiss on her chin. His normally baby-blue eyes were a steadily darkening indigo. His heart was slamming hard against his ribcage, and his breathing was labored—he swallowed hard against the anxiety he felt, the fear of the question he was about to ask her until he couldn't take another damn rock of her hips, the grinding down on his cock with their jeans still between them. "_What if you _couldn't _resist?"_

Tara's breath hitched at his words. Her emerald gaze flitted back and forth, from the voracious look in his eyes, and the metal handcuffs he was still holding in the hand that wasn't gripping her hip. Slowly, she climbed out of his lap, and once again she stood in front of him. But this time her hands weren't at his sides—this time she held them up, palm facing towards him, not quite above her head, but high enough to convey the message she was sending. "How do you want me?" Tara asked, tilting her head forward to smile at him through her lashes.

Jax groaned in response to her words, briefly squeezing his own eyes shut. It was almost painful how hard he was. His cock throbbed against his thigh as he stood up. Tara was still, quiet as a statue—her only movements were the spreading of her legs when Jax moved to pull her shorts down over her thighs, and the only sound she made was the hitch in her breathing when pulled at the waistband of her panties, only to let them snap back against her instead of adding them to the pile of her clothes on the floor.

Her bra was last to finally joining her discarded shirt and shorts before he grabbed her hands in his, pulling her towards the bed until the backs of his knees hit the mattress. That was when he slowly spun her around, and as they switch places, he tucked her hair behind her ears on both side—and leaned in for a deep lingering kiss, all the while stopping the hand she'd reached for his belt buckle with. "_Lay down," _Jax instructed huskily.

Tara smiled at him over her shoulder as she crawled on all fours to the top of the bed. He was already creeping his way up, behind her when she turned around to lean against the headboard. Jax gently brushed his fingers across her cheek, then cupped her chin, kissing her slowly, matching every fervent stroke of their tongue with another inch further down, guiding her by her waist until she was lying on her back, underneath him.

_"Tara..."_ Jax groaned against her mouth when she folded her legs tight around his waist, pulling him in closer, lifting her hips to rub herself against him, driving him crazy with heat emitted through the soaked, cotton panties he hadn't removed yet. "_Fuck_, Baby…you sure you want this?"

Tara stopped grinding her hips, she released the grips her arms had around his neck, dropping them to her sides. And when her lids flew open, she looked up at him with not only love, but complete trust. "You should probably read me my rights first," She teased, smiling at him.

Slowly, Tara raised her arms up above her head. She circled her tongue around his nipples, grazing them with her teeth as he leaned over her. Jax grabbed her right hand, kissing his way up her arm, from the pocket of her elbow to her wrist, gingerly replacing his mouth with one of the two cuffs in his other hand. "_Shitt, _Babe…." Jax didn't have long to wonder where her free hand had disappeared to when he felt her slipping it back inside the slit of his jeans, swiping her thumb across the swollen crown of his dick just before he snatched it away, pulling it up to lock it to the wooden bars of her headboard with her other one. "You okay?"

Tara nodded her head, momentarily rendered speechless by the unexpected surge, the aching need between her thighs. "I trust you."

Jax sat up on his knees, hovering over her center—taking in the view of his nearly-naked prisoner. A smarter person might have been slightly terrified at the Cheshire cat-like smile threatening to split his face in two. But then Tara was as brilliant as they came—and goddamn it, she really wanted him to make _her _cum.

Jax rubbed his hands up and down her thighs, teasing the waistband of her panties, pulling them up, and letting them slap right back against her.

_"Jackson?_"

Jax chuckled at the desperation in her voice. He was enjoying watching her squirm and beg him with her eyes almost as much as he was going to enjoy what happened next.

Tara finally let her head fall back as he began kissing a trail from her breasts, along her stomach, and down to the apex of her thighs, blowing against them—tugging at her underwear with the teeth forming the naughty smile brightening his eyes. He was almost sure he'd heard her whisper, _"thank you," _under her breath when he finally slid them down past her ankles. But the trip back up was slower, even more torturous than when he'd kissed his way down—and he didn't stop pressing his lips everywhere except where she wanted them until Tara lifted her head up again, this time to glare at him.

Jax smirked when she clamped her thighs around her neck. He spread her folds with his fingers, smiling at the sweet taste of her on his tongue when he lightly flicked it against her clit. "Hey, Babe…you have the right to remain silent….but I don't think you're gonna be…"

She wasn't.

Tara was anything but silent for the rest of the afternoon.

And Jax was happy to comply with holding anything she said against her.

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Three _Big Az _cheeseburgers, two chicken sandwiches, and a tray of hot wings split between them later—Wendy, LJ and his father were playing their fifth hand of crazy eights. After winning for the third time in a row, Wendy began shuffling the card to deal everyone a new hand to play.

Lowell Sr. looked up from the table suddenly, glancing toward the shifting guards lined up along the prison visiting Hall entrance. "I think I'm going to have to hold off not _letting _you win again until next time, sweetheart. The guards are about to switch their posts for the next shift. You guy's should head out now or you'll be stuck waiting for almost an hour even after I'm back inside."

Sighing, LJ eased up off the bench, meeting his father almost half-way to say goodbye while Wendy gathered up their things. This hug was longer, their embrace a lot heavier, and it ended with a kiss to the crown of the younger Harland's head—his father's lips pressing lightly against the slowly fading stitches hidden beneath his newly-grown out hair. "I love you, Son."

"Love you, Dad," Lowell replied. When Wendy wordlessly reached for his hand, he raised he moved his other one off the walker spread out in front of him, to wave at the man still glancing back at him to smile after every few steps he made towards the line of inmates waiting to be patted down at the front security desk. That same hand swiftly wiped away the moisture welling in his eyes before he turned to face the sixteen year old girl standing beside him—still with, all these months later when she didn't have to be.

"Thank you for being here," Lowell murmured, squeezing her hand. "I know it hasn't been easy…but you stayed anyway and….I know it's not because you felt guilty."

"It wasn't," Wendy admitted quietly. "And it _isn't."_

Red tinted his cheeks as he looked down at the single square of linoleum between them. A goofy smile slowly spread across Lowell Junior's face as he stared at the hand still firmly grasping his. "...so I guess you really _hate _me after all, Huh?"

"No, Lowell…I _love _you."

Lowell smirked. "You know what that means don't you?"

Wendy cocked an eyebrow at him—swallowing her smile as she waited for the answer she already had an inkling she knew before he opened his mouth. "What's that?"

"You're not allowed to say _No _to me asking you to prom," Lowell stated. "Love totally trumps the no school dances rule."

Wendy snickered, shaking her head. "I was wondering when you were going to bring that up," She mused, turning to walk slowly alongside him as they made their way towards the exit. "Typical guy, waiting until the last minute."

"You knew I was going to ask you?"

Wendy snorted. "I bet Chaz fifty bucks that you weren't above using the whole _my crazy cousin used me as a pincushion _thing to score a hot date," She teased, holding the buzzing door open wider for him. "Guess who's not paying for their prom dress?"

LJ snickered. "You have a gambling problem."

"Come on, _Grandpa," _Wendy said_, _wriggling her eyebrows at him. "Let's get you home so I can show you the free dress Chaz and her new girlfriend insisted I get."

Lowell groaned, knocking her hand away from the handle to pull the front passenger door open by himself. "I think we should revisit your earlier policy on _pet names." _

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They were all there—waiting for him when he rode into the newly minted _TELLER &amp; CO AUTOMOTIVE _parking lot. An array of faces—some relatively new, but most wholly familiar, so recognizable even that he'd honed in on tension marring their features before he'd laid his bike down on the kickstand. "What the Hell is going on?" Padraic demanded, unsnapping his helmet.

"Unser called," Bobby explained, pulling at his sheep's-ass of a beard. "We gotta problem, Brutha. But JT's working it out with McGee right now. The guy's are headed back to Belfast tonight." Turning his head towards the clubhouse, he nodded at the closed double doors. "Once the vote's settled you and Hap can—"

"Hold on second," Padraic held a hand up to the SAMCRO treasurer. "Let's back it up to the part where you answer my…."

The bewildered Scotsman's sentence trailed off as he snapped his head towards the gated entrance. Two vans pulled into the lot, stopping in front of them, just as the clubhouse doors opened—and John Teller emerged with the visiting members of the SAMBEL charter trailing behind him. "What the Hell is going on?" Padraic repeated.

"Fucking rat _bitches!" _Happy growled, finally breaking rank to hurry Bobby's longwinded way of getting to the point along. "Feds got two witnesses, claim they saw who killed Zobelle and his whore daughter."

"That's bullshit!" Padraic roared, furiously shaking his head. "Anybody who was there is either dead or standing in front of me! This is that Toric asshole coloring outside the fuckin lines again. They can't touch us without proof, and any proof he has is something he made up!"

"I already got my brother working on it," Kozik interjected, stepping closer to him. "But they're making him jump through hoops right now. Something about him not being licensed in Cali'. The kids a fuckin whiz. He didn't even have to crack open his brief case to get Jax a deal. This shit'll be in our rear-view mirror as soon as they clear him to represent you. No question, Bro."

"_Aye._" Padraic nodded, clapping Kozik on the back when he pulled him in for a hug. "I told Di she didn't have to worry. And once we settle this shit up on the legal side, we're gonna have to take care of him on _our _terms. I don't know what he's got on Di but he's holding something over her head and I—"

"We're gonna make sure Diane's protected," Chibs vowed, stepping up to clap a hand on his shoulder. "But right now we gotta get you and Hap out of here."

Padraic flinched. "_What?_"

"Oswalds got a cargo plane headed out to Belfast," Bobby explained. "And McGee and the guys actually have visas this time around, funny enough."

"Toric was already on his way to the judge when Wayne called," JT explained. "So far, whoever these witnesses are, they only fingered you two. Warrants for your arrests are probably already out. We need to move now. You and Hap in the van with Koze' and Chibs," He said, nodding towards the van Jason and Miles were already opening the back doors to. "Tig and Bobby ride with McGee and his guys in the other one. Me and Piney are going with them to the airport—prospect are driving, and we _ride…_Juice and Jason ride with you guys."

Bobby nodded. "If it works, they'll follow JT and the guys, probably cut them off before they reach the airport…"

"We'll keep them busy," Miles declared, bumping shoulders with Niko.

Niko snickered, nodding in agreement. "This is gonna be some real grand theft auto shit, Bro! Those pigs'll be chasing us for days before they catch up."

"_Come on_, Bro." Happy tossed an arm over his shoulder, reaching his other hand up to roughly ground his fist into Padraic's frozen shoulder. "It's not forever, Man. Just until the charges clear. JT's got a feeling Toric was the reason Otto couldn't get to Clay in Stockton before."

"No speeding," JT directed, glancing towards the giant of a sixteen year old standing quietly in the mix. "We want them to come after _us…._that way by the time they realize Hap' and Pat aren't with us, you guys'll already be at the strip."

Opie barely barely nodded his understanding before stalking his way towards the driver's side door of the van he'd been tasked with driving. And it was just as well, because JT was already fixing his eyes on yet another sour-faced young man—this one in his late twenties. "No more guns means less connections on the inside. We got no way to protect you when we don't know who his friends are. Until we know what hands he's been shaking you gotta lay low and let Kozy's brother work it out the legal way."

"You ready killa?" Padraic heard Liam O'Neil jeering outside the van. "Wait til Smiley here gets a good look at what _we _go through to keep outlaws living out here in Charming all warm and cozy."

"Fuck outta here!" Happy growled. "Wait til you're watching me fuck all your bitches! Belfast _pussy…._that's the only reason I ain't sticking around to put a bullet in all these crooked cops!"

"Let's GO!" JT ordered, banging his hand against one of the vans.

"_Diane._" Padraic's gaze left the van floor to bore into JT's sympathetic expression. "I need to stop at the hospital first and—"

"We don't have time, Brutha." JT reached into his back pocket, pulling a small notebook with a pen sticking out from between the pages. "We're already pushing our luck as it is." Padraic watched helplessly as John Teller tore several pages from the book, right before handed them and the pen out to him. "I'll make sure Kozick gets it to her," was all the somber biker President muttered, before snapping the van doors close.

Leaving Padraic and Happy in the darkness, a place Happy Lowman rested comfortably, while the Scotsman sitting next to him silently longed to see the light again—to see _his _guiding light.

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Their futures were undecided because so much of it still needed figuring out. There were so many obstacles and curve balls ahead of them—way too many hard-learned life lessons imminent in every step they took, even hand in hand. And the road leading to the happily-ever-after they both so desperately wanted seemed to stretch even longer as the many miles they'd already surpassed blurred behind them. As it stood, there weren't many guarantees in life that Jackson Teller could hang his helmet on. But there was one truth, in particular, that he was certain would never, ever changed.

For as long as Tara adorned him with the privilege, He would never in his life get tired of her falling asleep in his arms. The heat of his body, the strong arms he encased around her were the comfort Tara needed—and it was a luxury she'd always prefer no matter how high the thread count of the bedspread.

Staring at her, Jax thought back to that day in detention—when he told her how angelic she looked when she was sleeping. He didn't let her know it at the time, but he hadn't been joking, not even a little bit. And not even horns, like the Devilish pair he'd accused her of having, could take away from the perfection resting below his chin.

Unable to resist a second longer, Jax raised his hand to her forehead, brushing back the curtain of thick, brunette tresses falling over her face. That was when she stirred, slowly opening her eyes—and greeting him with that lazy smile that spoke volumes as to what they've been doing before her consciousness drifted off, as if he needed reminding. "Watching me sleep again, _Bundy?"_

Jax kissed her taunting mouth, nipping at her bottom lip. "Long enough to think of at least fifty other offenses to place you under arrest for…you should have probably stayed silent, Babe. Now I got plenty of Intel," He teased, grabbing her by her waist, pulling her on top of him. "And I know just how _hard_ I have to push."

Tara's knees gripped his hips loosely, prompting him to sit up against the headboard, balancing her in his lap. He brushed aside the cascade of long, unruly hair blocking her abruptly frowning face from view when she hung her head, looking down at his naked chest. "_Babe?_"

"It wasn't about Joshua," Tara muttered quietly. Reaching a hand up, her fingers slowly traced the letters of her name tattooed over his heart. "That's not why I clammed up when I first saw you with the cuffs...I wasn't thinking about what happened to me, Jackson….I was thinking about what might happen to you."

Jax was already shaking his head when she looked up to meet his eyes. "I don't know what I can do to convince you that I'm serious about this," He assured her. "But I don't want SAMCRO to be my future anymore…I want a different one with you and I—"

_"That's not what I meant."_

His eyebrows threaded together, his hand gripped her chin between his fingers, pushing her face back to eye-level with his. "What is it?"

Tara shook her head slowly, shutting her eyes. "I'm _scared, _Jackson…it's been three months….and it's like every day I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop….It's too simple….too quiet….like the calm before a storm hits and I'm sorry because I know you're tired of hearing it, Baby but I can't shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen to us….that's why when I saw you with those handcuffs I couldn't stop thinking about how much I'll hate myself if _you're _the one wearing them because of me...I don't want to lose you."

Jax threaded his hands in hair as he slanted his mouth over hers, doing his best to kiss the frown off her face. Pulling back, his heart sunk to know that it hadn't work but he was at least give a moment of reprieve, to once again reassure her of all the things he'd already explained the fourth, fifth, and twentieth time she'd brought up the plea deal Kozick's brother had negotiated on his behalf.

"Kohn's looking at an indictment," Jax explained. "His whole unit is involved—and not to mention the higher up's who let him get over on them while he covered for his crazy son….That psycho had a priors that were wiped from his record because of some backroom deal his Old man made with the San Joaquin County DA….they're not plotting against us…they're way too busy covering their own asses because of what happened—because of what _they _let happen…Not because of _you," _Jax urged, framing her face in his hands. "None of it was on you, Babe…they're the ones that left you unprotected…they're the ones who didn't do their jobs…they're the _reason _I had no choice but to try and save you myself and they _know _that if they try to prosecute me, my fancy, Chicago lawyer is going to be on the first plane done here to make sure they _all _end up in handcuffs with me."

Tara was trying not to smile—and failing miserably.

Like a stubborn child, refusing to go to sleep, Tara gave into the bliss Jax's words of assurance granted her. He'd coaxed a moment of peace with one of her favorite bedtime stories. And for now, at least, the invasion of doubt in her brain subsided, leaving her with an entirely different notion to fixate on.

Tara's thumb brushed lightly against his nipple, her other fingers still traced around the tattooed letters above it. "Do you really think you'd be happy if you became a writer?"

Her face were trapped between his palms again, and her eyes never wavered. Her emerald gaze was completely transfixed by the love and conviction emanating from the baby-blues staring back at her. "I'm going to be _something, _Tara," Jax promised, grazing his thumb across her mouth. "I might not know what it is yet, but I _promise _I'm going to figure it out."

Tara nodded, leaning her smiling face forward to brush her lips across his. "You _are, _Jackson," She told him. "You're going to figure it out and when you do…whatever you want, it's yours. You just have to work for it."

His mouth slanted to one side of his face as he gripped her waist to keep her steady on his lap. He leaned off the bed, one arm reaching. And Tara watched the lopsided grin on his face deepen the tighter her eyebrows arched together until he'd finally—blindly—felt for and picked up what he'd been reaching for without his eyes ever leaving the curious expression on his face.

Jax grabbed a hold of her wrist, pressing a kiss to the inside of it. His eyes never left hers as he closed the handcuff around her wrist. Tara was breathing heavy, already rocking against him, eager to take the edge off of the hot, throbbing sensation already making her legs tremble—the way they had the entire she'd given him free, uninterrupted reign to do whatever he wanted to her body.

But this time he didn't he cuff her other hand—No, this time, it wasn't about the back-scratching, headboard pounding love-making that was always imminent between the two of them whenever they were left alone.

It was about giving her the only answer to her question of his future aspirations—the desire his heart would never waver from.

Tara's smile couldn't have grown any wider without splitting her face, and the green-eyed brunette could barely resist leaning in to kiss him long enough for Jax to get the words out of his mouth. "I want _this," _the handsome, blue-eyed boy told her, tightening the other handcuff around his own wrist. "And there's no changing my mind about it, Babe….I threw away the key a long time ago."

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**18,000+ words**

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	91. Chapter 75: Part I

I have quite a bit going on in the realm of reality, but I figured I owed you guys (and myself) a temporary escape to the land of SOA-Fanfiction. As for the announcement regarding my other stories, nothing has been decided yet. I'll keep those of you who inquired posted though. But for now...

_Hope those of you who celebrate it had a Happy Thanksgiving! I hope you'll enjoy this update as well._

P.S:** YES**, the chapter ran longer. Broken record at this point. Oh well. More updates, I guess? Selfishly, I just CAN'T BARE to part with any of the scenes that I technically could cut to reach the story's conclusion faster.

**Chapter 75: Part I (of IV)**

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**^*~****MARCH * ~^MARCH ^~ MARCH * MARCH* MARCH ~^ MARCH ^~ MARCH * MARCH * MARCH ~*^**

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_**March **19__**th**_

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"_….and she had this….God, she had 'bout the prettiest smile you ever seen… her mother's eyes…got herrr….got her smarts from her too…been saying she wanted to be a….a….a healerrr….j-j-just like her Ma'…she'd been saying that since she was a kid, damn near still in diapers, wobbling 'round the house with her staff of….her stiff-a…one of them…them—"_

Lee Toric cut his eyes towards the babbling drunk baring his weight against the countertop of the _Hairy Dog bar &amp; lounge. _"Stethoscope?" The bored ATF Agent provided, lazily cocking an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, _thass it_," Kenneth Copeland slurred, beer sloshing down his chin. He swayed left to right, no more sure-footed than the wooden bar stool creaking beneath him as his knees bumped against it. "A _stealth-a-scope_…she had one of 'dem around her neck all the time…_alwayszzzz_ playing Nurse with her dollies—_Hell," _Kenneth mused, chuckling to himself. "'Lissa was always runnin out of band-aids...she kept sneaking them out of her kit…"

"Sounds like a real sweet girl," Toric remarked, smirking into the glass he held up to his lip. Once again, his sharp eyes left the nostalgic father to watch the nearly empty bar's entrance. "It's a shame what happened to her."

Lee Toric flinched, snapping his head towards the tall, stocky man collapsing into a fit of guttural sobs against the counter top. Disgust twisted his already hardened features as he slid the bar-stool underneath him sideways, just in time to get a front-row view of Kenneth losing his grip on the counter—tripping and face-planting on the bar floor. "_She was my baby," _Kenneth moaned, bracing trembling hands against the seat of the stool turned over on the floor next to him. "_my only little girl…..how could he-how could—how could someone do something so…..__my poor Nathalie... how could…how could this happen to her…."_

"Jesus Christ," Lee Toric muttered, shaking his head at the young man drying shot glasses behind the bar. "When you planning on cutting this poor bastard off? When his pukes up his liver?"

The handsome barkeep rolled his eyes, grinned over at him without the slightest concern in his features as he shrugged his shoulders. "His wife'll be here any minute….she's got the night shift now…guess they must have somebody else watching the kid."

Lee Toric nodded his head as he slurped down the last of his scotch. The ice rattled in the glass when he slammed it down on the counter as he stood up, fumbling through the pocket of his jeans for his wallet. "Keep the change," He said, clearing his tab before walking towards the front entrance.

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Bags were sunk in underneath her eyes, her ponytail was a disheveled mess, and her mouth was a tight line, not unlike the crows feet creeping its way along the corners of her face. Lee Toric watched with knowing eyes as a woman in salmon-pink scrubs walked briskly pass him as he made his way towards one of the only four cars in the parking lot that early morning.

"You're late," Toric stated, reaching for the handle of the back passenger door. The young woman in the front seat stared out at him through the barely-cracked driver's side window—absently tapping her fingers against the steering wheel of the unmarked sedan.

District Attorney Althea Jary was more doe-eyed than usual as her brown eyes flitted up and down. Up towards the cold, calculated look in Lee Toric's eyes, and down at the thick, manila folder in his hand-the compilation of intel that could either help her career or end it. A moment had passed, a pregnant pause long enough for them both to glimpse the nurse (and shamelessly amused bartender) carrying her belligerent husband towards the parked car, still running in front of the bar.

"Kenneth and Alyssa Copeland." Lee Toric nodded towards the angry brunette rubbing tears from her cheeks as she slammed the passenger door to her car, closing her husband into the backseat before climbing behind the wheel to back out of the lot. "Their daughter was one of the first victims killed..."

"By _Joshua Kohn_," Althea responded. At last, she finally pressed the lock off the doors, unclicked her seatbelt and turned around to face him as Toric climbed into the backseat of her car. "I don't need intel on Kohn's victims. Teller's fancy Chi-town lawyer compiled a nice list of all those who suffered at his hands—complete with written statements from each and every witness, signed with a promise that they'd be more than willing to testify in open court."

Toric's smile was sardonic, his mouth twisted to one side of his face. "Are you done?"

Althea scowled, turning all the way around, one leg tucked under her. "Look, I don't know what kind of history you have with Patterson but I'll tell you like I _tried_ to tell her. This case in sensationalism at its worse. All eyes are going to be on us—"

"And how do you think it'll play if all Jackson Teller gets is a slap on the wrist?" Toric argued smugly, shaking his head. "He caused the death of a well-respected, highly decorated policeman—took him at _gunpoint, _impeded a hostage negotiation, incited a riot that caused severe injuries for dozens of people, and in case that doesn't get a judge's gavel hand twitching—he murdered a nineteen year old in cold blood."

Althea shook her head. "The doctrine of clean hands applies even in criminal court. And for every charge we can pin on Jax Teller, there are at least a dozen charges that could end up being filed against our police department and the DA's office. You think this is just about protecting the F.B.I? I don't give a shit about Agent Kohn or anybody else at the bureau. The dirt runs deeper than that. This Cary Agos asshole dug up D.P'ed cases I didn't even know about! We already cut him a deal. Jax Teller's court date—in _Juvenile _court—is set for early next month. Jackson pleads guilty to everything but the weapon charge. Agent Taylor goes on record with what he saw—his team corroborates, we get the murder charge dropped to justifiable murder due to self-defense. He's not a first time offender, but this'll be his second so—we revoke his parole for the Kyle Hobart assault charge—he goes back to juvie for a couple months. Court-ordered anger management, restitution and enough community service to keep him busy until the little shit is old enough to enlist."

Lee Toric leaned forward, fingers snagging a few loose strands falling from the messy bun pinned towards the back of her head. Althea flinched, reflexively pulling her hair from underneath the callused palm pressing against the shoulder of the leather front seat. He raised his other hand, dropping the manila folder he'd been holding onto her lap.

"Jackson Teller pleads guilty to second degree," Lee Toric countered. "And while that _would _be twenty years with eligibility for parole in six, there's also the aggravated assault charge for the officer he forced to open the Hale Manor gates—the _riot _he incited that led to sever injuries sustained by both law enforcement and the anxious family members of the hostage victims. He pleads guilty to every charge you file with a guarantee of no less than fifteen years before he even sees parole, no exception. Prince Teller's going to own his daddy's place or he's going to live with being the end to his father's legacy. The entire SOA organization RICO'ed and _dead."_

"Where did you…." Althea Jarry sifted through the papers in the folder spread out on her lap. Her brown eyes flitted back and forth, and then she glanced up to meet the triumphant expression in the vengeful man's eyes through her rearview mirror. "Where the Hell did you get this?"

"Push his hearing back," Lee Toric replied, blatantly ignoring her question. He pulled a carton of Marlboro's from inside his jacket. The scorned ATF agent dangled a cigarette between his lips as he flicked the lighter he'd pulled from his back pocket open against the tip. "A lot of crime going on in San Joaquin county these days…it would make sense if the court dockets were overbooked—especially juvenile court…a lot of wannabe-gangsters running around….buy yourself some time to build your case as best you can. You don't need me to help you convict Teller. You just need me to give the defense an incentive not to use whatever they have on your departments."

"I'm still not connecting the dots here," Althea met his eyes in the mirror once more, "And how the Hell is this going to help you with your Neo-Nazi case?"

"Joshua Kohn had an arsenal large enough to take on half the law enforcement in the state of California," Lee Toric answered.

Althea Jarry was shaking her head again. "I know, but—"

_"Who_ do you think sold him all those guns?_" _Lee Toric questioned, blowing smoke through his nose. "Who do you think helped him get his hands on all of that ammo…army-grade explosives…I tell you, the next time John Teller decides he wants to bow out of the arms dealing game he might want to pick a better successor than his Tucson _brothers_… We don't even need to nail the mother charter…. _SAMTAZ _will work just fine for RICO."

"There's no way this shit'll hold up in court," Althea said, cutting her eyes at him. "I swear you assholes with the badges should be required to go to law school just like the rest of us. Maybe then you'll understand what _inadmissible _means.

Toric shrugged. "It won't even have to go that far," He told her, smirking. "Trust me...SAMCRO's Prince is going to be begging to transfer to a federal prison by the time my guys in Stockton reach out to him."

"Jesus Christ. Who the Hell do you think you're talking to?" Althea snapped, jerking around to glare at him. "District _attorney. _Does the law mean nothing to you?"

Toric chuckled as he reached for the handle, pushing the passenger door open. "Make the deal, Jary," He said, stepping back out into the parking lot. "It' simple. I'll even broker it for you when the time comes….either Jackson Teller takes one for the team like his Old Man taught him…._or they all go down._"

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

**_March_**_ 20**th**_

* * *

_"Royal flush," _Wendy declared, slapping the cards in her hand down onto the table between them. Opie smacked a palm across his face. And Lowell Jr. narrowed his eyes when the triumphant blonde blew him a kiss. Even Jax—an abruptly reappearing addition to the Palmer's dining room managed to muster up a half-scowl at the sixteen year old sliding his chair back in a huff of defeat. "I don't really give a shit to be honest," Jax drawled, shrugging. "But I am _not _wearing a bowtie," Jax announced, kissing Tara's sweat-sheened neck.

"Or anything pink or purple," Lowell interjected, glaring at the knowing look in his girlfriend's eyes—the girlfriend who happened to have purchased a pink prom dress.

Opie grunted in agreement, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm wearing my kutte," He warned, shooting daggers in Donna's direction. "So you better pick some pants and shit that go with my leather."

Tara's abrupt fit of giggles had plenty of company as the other three teenage girls laughed at the handsomely sour faces surrounding them. "A deal's a deal, boys. We would have been happy to skip prom and take the limo out to the beach instead if _you_ won."

Chastity smirked. "If you stop your bitching and whining we might _still _go…after…"

Lowell cocked an eyebrow at the shit-eating grin on Jax's face. "That was a really long _talk _you two had….what was so important anyway? And why are you breathing like you just ran ten blocks?"

Best out of five—any five games of their choosing was the wager and the fellas had lost three to one.

One quick flip of a coin determined Tara to be the chooser of the first game. Thanks to the devious brunette's choice Lowell was automatically off the hook as male nominee, and Opie steadfastly refused to even consider volunteering (which was a nice change from him not wanting to be there at all), leaving Jax to be the first guy up.

Wendy—for obvious reasons no one was dumb enough to point out—was quick to volunteer to compete in whatever the _next _game was. And despite Chastity being ninety-eight percent sure that the six years she'd trained in gymnastics made her way more flexible (which would have been helpful for either team had she been allowed to participate), the shrewd blonde had an inkling Tara wouldn't have to bend or twist much at all to win.

She was right, too.

Jax barely even attempted to win that game of _Twister. _The shameless blue-eyed teen tapped out of the game completely by Tara's fourth spin, when both of Tara's hands were on blue and green, and her legs were spreading out to red and yellow. "None of us would have won this shit," Lowell had grumbled underneath his breath to the brooding prospect standing next to him. They both shook their heads when Jax purposely collapsed, yanking a snickering Tara down by her waist on top of him.

While the other two guys were arguing their case for the boys choosing the next game—coin flip be damned—Jax had been trying his very best to persuade the green-eyed girl tilting her head sideways to give him better access to more than just her neck. Apparently they needed to leave Chasity's living room to 'talk' in the garage for a little bit. "Come on, Tara," Jax had whispered, fingers dancing around the waistband of her jeans. "You knew exactly what you were doing picking that damn game. I still remember when we played it last time.…."

"Poor thing…I bet your balls are on _blue_," Tara taunted. Her giggle reverberated through him as he'd pulled her into his lap, in the center of the Twister mat—pressing her tight against him, only to torture himself more as he physically affirmed her teasing words.

"The left and the right," Jax hissed into her ear. He flashed his middle finger at the wild-haired blonde mouthing the words _pussy-whipped _behind Tara's back. "Bluer than a motherfucker. Come on…Please, Baby? Wendy or Donna should have to play the next game anyway. It's not a fair shot if you compete every round with your overachieving ass.…"

He'd almost convinced her to slip away, too.

Then Opie announced that they'd be playing taboo—first team to 100 points. Donna had scowled at the suggestion, knowing that her boyfriend (the second coin-flip successor) had chosen the one game that he knew she was terrible at.

Donna was terrible at guessing and giving useful clues—and the only thing worse was her increasing anger when her teammates couldn't guess the correct word based on her belligerent hinting. Lowell kept getting buzzed (by Wendy) for accidentally stammering out the taboo words. And whether she was bending all the way over to tighten the laces to her converses or 'accidentally' holding the buzzer in her hand a little too close to the center of his lap, Tara found it easy to distract Jax from explaining the clues (and likewise get a pissed off Opie back for purposefully pointing out the fact that Tara and Wendy conveniently hadn't been paired yet.)

Despite initial awkwardness, Know-it-all Knowles and Wendy made up for everything Donna was severely lacking in skill, bringing the game to a close with 111 points in their last round to the boys 97. And then the third and final game was ladies' choice once again, leaving the ever-gambling blonde to choose poker.

Opie didn't know how to play.

And Jax had finally convinced Tara to talk with him about 'something important for school that he forgot to mention' (his words to Lowell before dipping out, pulling Tara along with him). That left Lowell Jr. as their last hope to get another two tries at winning the wager, but those two little words, "Royal flush" had sealed their collectively frustrated fates.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

The following afternoon, all three teenage boys reluctantly set out to serve their sentences—joining Chastity and the girls at the mall to pick out their 'monkey suits' for the spring formal.

Chastity was in need of a suit herself, making her the easiest 'guy' in the history of getting a 'dude' to play dress up. Tara was almost certain she'd even seen a begrudging smile flash across Opie's face when the bubbly blonde twirled and sashayed up and down, along the narrow hallway of the men's department dressing room. The royal-blue suit fit as if it had been tailored specifically for her slender frame. All she needed was a nice pair of pumps to complete the tomboy chic look she was going for.

"I love it," Lyla encouraged, reaching a hand inside one of the many shopping bags Chastity had accrued over the course of their mall escapades. Rising off the bench, the bright-eyed, Charming-newbie reached up to place the purple-trimmed fedora in her hand on Chastity's head.

"I think you should skip the hat, Chaz," Tara suggested, absently chewing at her bottom lip. She turned to see Donna and Wendy nodding their heads in agreement with her assessment. "Just do a long braid or pin your hair up or something. What do you think guys? Isn't the hat a little over the top?"

Opie was playing with a loose string at the end of the Scythe T-Shirt he was wearing underneath his leather vest. Lowell was playing with the video game he'd somehow managed to slip back into the pocket of his chair when Wendy wasn't looking.

Wendy nudged his shoulder. "Hello?!"

"Yeah, yeah," Lowell Jr. muttered. "I agree…that looks perfect, but the other color is better just like Wendy said—_ouch!_" L.J scowled at the blonde who'd confiscated his Gameboy, only to wack him with the case she'd slid it back into. "You don't think I've had enough head trauma?"

"I thought the whole point was for the _chicks _to pick out the clothes," Opie grumbled, eyes still fixed on the unraveling string in his lap. "Do we have to snap our fingers and roll our necks, too?"

Chastity rolled her eyes as she continued working her hips for all they were worth until she came to a stop in front of the couple sitting on the bench closest to the dressing room entrance. "What you think, Jax? Too butch? And keep in mind, the pictures we take are going to be this year's Christmas card. I'm sending one to my father and all of his new wife's bible study friends."

Tara twisted around to glimpse the expression of the handsome, blue-eyed teen holding her in his lap. Jax wasn't paying Chaz any attention at all. He was much too busy grinning mischievously at the short, pimply-faced sales associate struggling to carry the stack of shoe boxes in his hand and keep his bifocal-glasses from sliding down his nose and onto the floor—like they had many times before.

Donald Greer had been even more of a dickhead ever since the store had promoted him to assistant manager. Jax couldn't wait until it was time for Chastity to pick out shoes. He'd gladly work on his day off, picking out every pair he'd just watched Donnie-boy return to the backroom just so he could relive the failure to sell a single pair to the women crowding the women's shoe department. "Don't you need to pick out shoes?" Jax wondered, finally meeting Chastity's eyes.

Lyla walked over then, sliding her arm underneath a smiling Chastity's, locking their elbows. "I think I can handle it from here, Prince. I already saw some black, velour pumps that would go perfect with her suit. And besides….mom won't budge on my curfew and I want to see that new movie with Matt Damon."

Jax nodded, turning his attention to the brunette sitting on his lap. "You still need shoes though, right Babe?"

"You're going to help me pick out shoes?" Tara cocked an eyebrow at him.

"I think you should try _all_ of them on," Jax replied. "Even the ones you hate."

Tara laughed when she finally locked eyes on his assistant manager. Donnie was glaring at the redhead woman shaking her head in response to what was probably his failed sales-pitch as she peered down at the flats on her feet. Even Tara had to admit that the only likely reason Donnie was still employed—let alone a manager—was because his mother's husband owned the store. "Grow up, Jackson."

"I'm headed for check out and then we're going to the movies down the block," Chastity announced, gathering up their things.

"I've got therapy at 5:30," Lowell commented, eyes filled with hope as he addressed the smirking blonde to the left of him. "And you know how traffic is…"

"This is why I said Chaz should have gone last," Wendy responded, gathering up their things. "I knew she'd take the longest."

"Duh!" Chastity rolled her neck, comically fluttering her long eyelashes in Opie's direction. "Just because I'm not searching for the perfect dress doesn't mean I can't want the perfect suit."

"Okay Cinder-_fella," _Wendy remarked. "Well thanks to you, LJ's torture will have to be for another day. I guess you'll have to see him in full penguin next Friday."

"Did you ask your mom about tomorrow?" Tara asked, glancing towards the cherry-lipped blonde standing arm in arm with Chastity. Everywhere she turned it seemed, Tara was surrounded by blondes. And until Lyla Harrington had moved to Charming, Chastity Palmer was the first and only blonde female (or male for that matter) that she hadn't wanted to punch in the throat the first time she met her. In fact, she was actually very sweet.

Lyla tucked her hair behind her ear, shifting her feet nervously. "She says it's fine, but only if I can bring my little brother with me. You guys don't mind do you?"

"No, why would we?" Chastity answered quickly, light eyes touching on everyone else as if looking for some form of disagreement with her assertion. "Of course Piper can come."

"Okay, here's an idea," Jax said, gripping Tara's waist as she slid off his lap to allow him to stand up. "How about we all go to the movies—"

"Nice try," Donna interrupted, shaking her head. "You and Opie aren't off the hook. I already told Piney and the guys. And they were _happy _to give their young prospect the day off to shop for prom."

"That's only because those assholes know I'd rather clean the bathroom after Bobby uses it," Opie muttered, glaring when Jax and Tara laughed at Donna's statement. "I don't know what you're laughing about. Tara's going to drive you nuts with this bullshit, too."

"Is there a window in here?" Jax made a show of craning his neck, left to right as if looking for a window he knew wasn't there. "Pigs must be flying around outside. My best friend just _spoke _to me…with actual words. See, Babe? I told you he wasn't a caveman….even if he does _look _like one."

"Let's get this shit over with," Opie huffed, slamming shoulders with him as he stomped past, snatching Donna along with him, out onto the sales floor.

"Really, Jax?" Tara shook her head at the sixteen year old standing alone with her in the dressing room.

"I swear he's worse than you were before," Jax said, shaking his head at the couple disappearing from view. "Hot and cold all the fucking time. He ignores me, and then when he gets ready to acknowledge my presence dumb ass gets an attitude when I respond. _Then_ his answer is to storm off like a little bitch."

"Maybe if you told me why he was mad I could help," Tara prodded, tilting her head. "Clearly it's about more than him blaming you for what happened on New Year's."

Jax wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against him, kissing her forehead. "You can't help, Tara. Trust me…."

Tara sighed, tipping her chin up to press her mouth to his. "I guess….but I _can _make you try on a suit in every color that has your size," She threatened, grinning evilly."

Jax smirked. "I'll try on every suit in the store if you want. But I have certain conditions."

"Oh yeah?" Tara nipped at his bottom lip a little harder than intended, shrieking at the palm squeezing her ass through her jeans. "What kinda conditions we talking, Teller?"

"You want me to be your personal model for the afternoon?" Jax wriggled his eyebrows, twisted his mouth to one side of his face as he released his hold on her ass and waist to bring both of her hands to his belt buckle. "Mannequins don't dress themselves, Babe. Anything you pick out, you have to put on me by yourself….and take off."

"Back!" Donna chimed, all but skipping back into the dressing room. Tara snickered under her breath at the death-glare Jax shot the two of them as Opie trailed in behind the babbling sophomore. "Looks like Opie might end up getting his way in the end. Most of the suits big enough to fit him cost more than the tuition at a community college. Even I'm not that much of a brat to make him pay for a suit he'll probably never wear again."

Opie had grunted and grumbled his way through the small selection of suits Donna picked out for him until she finally caved, giving him permission to wear black, designer jeans and new boots—the perfect (and least formal) ensemble to go with the leather kutte he insisted on wearing.

Then Donna and her grumpy boyfriend were headed for the checkout line when Tara returned with her own armful of formalwear for the young Teller quietly laughing at the exiting couple's bickering. "I'll see y'all tomorrow," Tara said, turning her eyes on the grinning teen sitting alone on the bench. "You ready, Handsome?"

Jax's response was to get up and walk towards the nearest dressing room door, pushing it open, and waving a hand for her to step inside.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

Tara took her time, neatly hanging each suit in her hand along the hooks mounted on the pale-yellow walls of the private changing room. "Which one do you want to try first?" She asked. When Jax shrugged his shoulder, she reached for the suit she thought went best with the dress Diane had already helped her pick out. "Okay. Try this one first. It might save us time since this is my favorite. I just hope it fits."

"Only one way to find out," Jax responded, smirking.

"_Here." _

Tara scrunched her eyebrows together when the suit she held out to Jax slid to the floor instead of staying in his grip when she tossed it into his arms. "What the Hell, Jax?"

"I'm a mannequin remember?" Jax chuckled at the glare she shot him. The laughter rumbling in his throat was the limit to his movement as he stood there—still as a statue. "Hey, don't look at me like that. A bet's a bet. I'm here, cooperating. I said you can pick anything you want. So pick."

"_Fine." _Tara's eyes had a sinister glint in them as she tugged hard at the zipper to the sweatshirt he was wearing. The grey, cotton hoodie chafed against skin as she yanked it off his shoulders, bending his stiffened arms every which way to get the hoodie off his back. Tara went from annoyed to amused, even laughing with him when she raised his 'mannequin' arms up like an amusement park patron ready for the rollercoaster to drop—and his T-shirt got stuck over his face.

"I'd like to keep my eyes in my head, Knowles," Jax muttered, reaching a hand down to help her before she rendered him blind. Tara smacked his hand away, yanking his arm back into its early position, above his head.

"Stay still. You're a mannequin, right?" Tara's mouth twitched at the corners when he winked at her after she finally pulled the shirt over his arms and big ass head. Her green eyes flitted up and down, assessing the model in question, palms rubbing along his trembling shoulders, his neck and chest, her fingers lightly pinching the nipple below the tattoo on his chest. Without warning, Tara dipped her head to circle her tongue around it. His hands dropped immediately—one tunneling through her hair to bring her mouth to his, and the other snaking around to the small of her back.

Tara stepped back immediately, shaking her head at him. "You're not supposed to move."

Reluctantly, Jax resumed his position with his arms still above his head. His eyes were narrowed, and his nostrils flared when Tara shrugged out of the leather crop-jacket she was wearing, tossing it aside. It took just about all the strength he had not to grab her waist, spin her around and pin her ass to the wall-to-wall mirror behind him, but he didn't do it—he didn't give in. Instead he stood completely still when Tara grabbed him by both wrists, pulling his arms down, and lightly rubbing palms up and down, against her breasts, curling his fingers inward until he couldn't resist squeezing her a little harder through her tank-top. That lack of resistance cost him because his hands were pulled down to his sides, seconds later.

Tara's smile was as evil as her sparkling green eyes were captivating. She grabbed at the belt fastened around his waist, unbuckling it, pulling the zipper to the denim hanging from his hips down. Her body followed the trail, knees bending as she squatted down, glancing up at the teenage boy clenching his jaw tight to keep from disrupting her actions just this time. His breath hitched, and his stomach tightened when he felt her lips sucking a a kiss on one of his hips, then the other, stopping to circle her tongue around his bellybutton. "You don't seem to have a problem keeping still for this," Tara commented, smirking when he neither responded nor reacted. "I wonder…" Her breath tickled the naturally trim, dark-blonde hairs trailing from just below his navel, disappearing underneath his white, cotton boxers. "…How long could you keep it up if I….did this…"

The teasing brunette nearly lost her balance when one of Jax's hands abruptly came to life. His fingers swiftly threaded into her hair, massaging her scalp from the crown of her head, down towards the nape of her neck. Tara giggled, tipping her head back to glance up at him. The wince that hissed past his lips was for more than the sting of his boxers snapping back against his skin when she'd released the elastic waistband from between her teeth. Jax's expression was a cross between murderous and weepy, making Tara laugh harder as she yanked the shoe laces on his right sneaker loose. "Mannequin my ass," Tara snarked, standing up to reach for the suit she'd wanted him to try on first. "Put it on, Jackson. We don't have all day. I still have to go to the grocery store to pick up some stuff for Arthur's stupid picnic tomorrow. And Diane conveniently decided to work a double shift so she didn't have to..._Jackson?_"

If she were any other girl, the solution would have been a simple one. He'd press his palms against her shoulders, pushing at them until she got the hint.

Tara wasn't just any girl though—she'd never been and never would be.

Ever since that night he'd spent with her in the hospital, he'd never had to hint at anything. He didn't have to ask because those devilish lips of her would be wrapped around him, teeth grazing, tongue swirling the tip of him faster than he could groan the word, "Please."

But that was before he'd put something in _his _mouth that didn't belong—before he'd lashed out with his tongue with malicious intent instead of for her pleasure. Every time she'd near the point of giving him what they both knew he wanted, she'd stop—switching gears. And every single fucking time he'd flash back to when he'd spitefully told her that was all she wanted from him, boasted about not having to force her to her knees. She hadn't been down on them either, not since then. And it was becoming increasingly obvious that she knew exactly what the fuck she was doing.

And if the hungry, almost threatening gleam in his eyes was anything to go on, Jax was seriously about to make her pay for torturing him once again.

That's why it was Tara's arms pulled up above her head this time. Did she want him to beg? Was that it? If it was, Jax wasn't quite sure he was willing to get down on his knees—not for that anyway. His pride and the begrudging fear of what her response could be kept his resolve in check. But it was the same emotions that left him determine to make her do all the begging he wouldn't. "I work from five until closing tomorrow," Jax explained, nibbling the lobe of ear as he whispered into it. "I'll try out all the ones you picked by myself….buy _my_ final choice….and then you can see it on prom night. That's fair, right? It's not like you're letting me see your dress before then…."

"But that wasn't the deal, Jax. The deal was—JAX!" Tara shrieked, staring wide-eyed at the teenage boy who's just spun her around and shoved her backwards. "What are you doing? Jax…._Jax_…I was...Jackson, are you—_Oh shit…._Wait a minute, wait a sec—Jackson, this isn't closing time like bef—_Jackson,_ if we get caught we could get in trouble…._Oh God…_Damn it, Jax…I was just playing before…"

Jax's answering chuckle vibrated against the tops of breasts, the cleavage peeking out of her top. She was pinned into the corner, her back against the wall by the strength of his hips pressing against hers. Her wrists were joined at their pulse-lines, curled within one of his hands while his other unsnapped the buttons of her jeans. He crushed his lips against hers, swallowing both her moan and the weak words of protest that were barely even a whisper.

Payback was a bitch, and damn it if she wasn't poetic.

Jax released her wrists the moment he decided playing with one breast at a time simply wouldn't do it for him. But every time Tara dropped her hands to curl them around his neck, to pull his boxers down, to yank down her own her shorts, anything to get the throbbing dick rubbing up against her stomach closer to where she wanted it—He stopped.

Jax stopped every single time.

And every single—fucking—time, he would start back at the top, sucking on her neck, taking his sweet time working that talented mouth back around the hardened nipples he'd pushed out of the demi-cups of her bra. His hands would move even slower, easing their way back into her jeans, teasing the lining of her panties, pressing his thumb against her clit through the soaked cotton until her whimpers fogged up the mirror when she pressed her face her against the cool, reflective surface.

"If we get arrested I'm gonna be pissed," Tara warned. Her threat was followed by a throaty moan as his lips followed the trail of the jeans and panties he was pulling down her legs. "I'm ser-_God...damn it..._I'm serious, Jax."

Jax laughed against the soft skin of her inner thighs as he hooked the right one over his shoulder. "You should be used to handcuffs by now...I know I am."

Tara's mind was way too far gone to point out everything wrong with the statement he'd made.

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

**_March 21st_**

* * *

"I forgot how nice it was out here," Jax commented, turning his head to face the brunette lying on her back next to him.

The blue and white checkered blanket underneath them flapped in the light breeze wafting through the wide-open, multi-acre park when Tara flipped over, onto her stomach. "Next time we ride out here, we should come alone….just _us._"

Jax smiled at her, nodding his head towards the large oak tree behind her. He waited patiently until she lazily turned her head to follow his gaze. It was just one of several overgrown oaks brightened by the light streaming in through the leaves trembling along the long, thick branches. Together they blocked out most of the heat—and all of the activity happening several feet up ahead, by the lake, where Donna and the others were on their third or floor plate of the food Tara'd prepared, and their six or seventh round of cards. "We should," He agreed, pulling at her waist until she was straddling his hips when he sat up. "I want to see how many splinters I can get in your back….as a matter of fact…"

Tara giggled when he pushed her off his lap with his knees, right before yanking her up by her hands, pulling her towards the tree he'd been nodding towards. "Maybe we can test that theory right now," Jax whispered against her neck. Her gasp of surprise was followed shortly by her pushing hard against his shoulders until he released the grip he had on the thighs he'd grabbed to press against his waist, dropping her legs back towards the ground.

"Are you crazy?" Tara hissed, her green eyes wide. "My father's not even ten feet away!"

Jax rolled his eyes, lazily shrugging his shoulders as he step closer to pick up where he left off. "Trust me, Babe….it'll be hours before he even realizes we didn't come back. And he's got Courtney to keep him entertained."

"_Ugh._" Tara pushed him off her again, stepping aside to peer around the tree. Her narrowed-eyed gaze instantly sought out and found the older, disgustingly cozy couple, sitting down on their own blanket, closer to the park's lake. The pout in her lip grew more pronounced when her father raised a hand to Courtney Case's mouth to feed her a piece of the freshly baked bread she'd bought from the market the night before. "I bought that for the _ducks_ not Mrs. Duck-_lips_."

Jax snickered against her shoulder, laughing harder when she tried to elbow him in his groin. His grip around her waist tightened, his fingertips danced underneath the bulk of the plaid shirt drowning her waistline—the shirt she'd staked her claim on ever since she'd stolen it from his room months ago. "You know you sound like a brat, right?" Jax asked, softening the intent of his words even further when he kissed the sweet spot behind her ear. "He's almost six months sober….he made it through rehab…." His lips slid from behind her ear to the junction between her neck and shoulder. "….he stopped moping and wallowing….and now he's moving on with his life…isn't that what you always wanted?"

"How are things with Maureen?" Tara squeezed her eyes tight when he stiffened behind her. "I'm sorry…that was—"

"It's fine, Tara."

The expression that hadn't quite faded fast enough when she turned around to meet his eyes said otherwise, but Tara was happy to extend her apology beyond the words he wouldn't let her finish speaking, opting to physically spell it out when she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. "I can't wait for Friday night," Tara breathed against the mouth still lingering on hers. "Di had to force me out the door last time, and I didn't even take any pictures."

Jax shook his head. "That's not true," He argued gently. He'd seen the proof of the homecoming dance he didn't get to take her to when he was locked up those three weeks for beating the shit out of Kyle. The pictures that the school yearbook club had taken of the homecoming court winners were plastered along the bulletin boards of the main floor for all to see—and for him to glare at—all the way up until the Christmas-themed events replaced them in January.

That night was just one on what he hoped would be a very short list of regrets where Tara was concerned. Because it didn't matter how cheesy or pointless he thought the event was. If Tara was there, he had to be by her side through all of it—him and only him.

Not Pierce Reynolds, Not David Hale—no one but him.

"You know what I mean, Jax." Tara's eyes were rolling, her smile widening. "I mean I didn't take any pictures for myself…It was kind of hard to stay upbeat when I didn't know if you were okay or when I would see you again. I _hated _feeling like that….and having to put on a smile because I didn't want to ruin Pearson's night just because my aunt bullied me into going with him…..God, I keep meaning to corner his sister alone, without the bimbo-clan…I guess I can't blame her for avoiding me but…Lowell said he heard one of the other doctors talking….the Reynolds' sent Pierce to some high-priced rehab center in L.A. I just want to find out where so I can write to him or something…just to say—"

"You said enough when you saw him before he left," Jax reminded her, forcing his tone to stay neutral. "He already told you—and it's the same thing I've _been_ telling you. He agrees with me, Babe. He doesn't blame you for any of it, and just because his sister's being a bitch—"

"It's not like that," Tara argued, shaking her head at him. "She has a right—"

"No, she _doesn't." _Jax snapped, momentarily losing the grip he had on his anger. "Fuck her, and if his parents choose to blame you, fuck them, too. L.J seems to be doing alright with rehab center right here in Charming. And thanks to you, my Old man made out okay, too. What they need to do is bring him back here and use all the extra money left over to buy a fuckin clue. And the only his sister's ignoring you is because that gash is gunning for a spot on the Varsity cheerleading squad next year. They must have started the hazing early. She came up to me the other, talking some shit about how Ima and Maize dared her to….."

His sentence trailed off when Tara's eyebrows rose. "They dared her to what?"

Late or not, Jax still recovered. "It doesn't matter, Babe. You already know I wasn't going along with it...you do know that...right?_ Tara_…." Jax sighed when her face didn't change, when she'd yet to answer or uncross her arms. "Babe…..you gotta know that by now. I'd never…." Tara's smile broke through finally, laughter following shortly after when he rolled his eyes up towards the sky. "You're _evil. _That, and something else that I _would_ call you if my dick wasn't within range of your knees."

"Aw come on, you _love_ my knees," Tara teased. He didn't miss the way her eyes briefly flitted down towards the crotch of his jeans as she reached up to press a palm to his face either. "And trust me, Jackson. You haven't _seen _evil yet….not until you see me in the dress I'm wearing Friday….you're going to be happy you didn't skip out on this dance, Prince Teller."

Tonight he would get a second chance at prom with his better half. And God forgive him, but he had every intention of wiping the memory of homecoming King Pearson Reynolds from Tara's mind completely. He couldn't take pity just because the guy had years of extensive therapy to look forward to instead of school dances. He'd survived, hadn't he? And it wasn't like _he _drove a truck into him. Nope. Jackson Teller just wasn't that big of a person. Any guy who'd ever had the pleasure of holding Tara's hauntingly beautiful emerald gaze for more than five minutes had to be eradicated on all fronts—take no fuckin prisoners.

"I don't give a shit about the _ball, _Babe." Jax nudged her head aside, brushing his lips against her ear as he whispered into it. "But if your dress is anything like what I'm imagining….I'm going to give the phrase _stroke of midnight _an entirely different meaning."

Tara giggled, pulling her head back to purse her lips. "Always a class act, Teller."

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* * *

_**March **25**th**_

* * *

"Okay seriously, what the fuck is up with the student body?" Maize O'Keefe harped, tossing the index-sized cards in her hands against the long table of the faculty lounge. Collectively, the other cheerleaders working fervently around her looked up from their handiwork to eye the sour-faced redhead sitting in the middle of the room, between them. "I've counted 97 votes for Prom Queen so far."

Ima shrugged, glancing down to check the box next to Jackson Teller's name for the tenth time before sliding it into the Prom King ballot box. "So?"

"82 of them are for Tara fucking Knowles!" Maize shrieked, slamming her freshly manicured hand against the table. "The only 15 votes that aren't for her are from those of us on the squad who voted—speaking of which, I recognize your handwriting, Natasha. I thought we made a pact? You voted for yourself."

Ima rolled her eyes. "Are you really that surprised? Ever since Ms. Daddy issues went and got herself kidnapped by some psycho everyone in town thinks she's some kind of celebrity or some shit."

"Not to mention she got _the _hottest and the _most _unattainable guy to commit to her," Kendra Reynolds—the Varsity squad-hopeful blurted as she picked a fresh sheet of voting cards to cut up individually. "And I mean like in public…He holds her hand and everything…Half the school saw him on his knees for her, and every girl I know who's hooked up with Jax Teller said he _never _did that. It was like his only flaw or whatever."

"It's not true, you know," Ima lied, rolling her eyes. "He was embarrassed about it, so I promised him I wouldn't tell anyone. He used to do it for _me _first. I'm the one that taught him—"

"Stoppp." Stacy Wilson held a hand up, biting at her bottom lip to stifle her giggle. Laughter still leaked into her voice when she glanced over at the apple-cheeked expression on Imalya Lee's face. "You're full of shit and everyone here know's it."

Kendra snorted, nudging the Cheer captain sitting next to her in agreement. "Right?" She jeered, cutting the final two cards unevenly as she turned her head to smile eagerly at Stacy. "And trying to convince us that there's actually something you can _teach _Jax. That's—"

"Are you done?" Maize interrupted, messily gathering up the cards she'd just finished dumping from the ballot box in front of her. "You know what? Fuck this plan. I've got a better one."

"Aww come on," Natasha groaned, dropping the card she'd just finished filling out into the ballot box next to her elbow. "You're going to give me carpal tunnel, and I still need time to make my hair appointment. We all took a vote, and you one fair and square—"

Ima was snorting this time. "Yeah fucking right. Fair—"

"Your _flat _ass. Is that what you were going to say?" Maize challenged. One angry flip of her long, auburn curls was the extent of her dismissal when the redheaded Co-Captain stood up to address the room. "'Tash is right. I'm the one who won the pool. That's why I get to decide how we do this, and I say we vote David Hale in instead of Jax."

"What?" Several voice said in unison.

"Trust me," Maize insisted, her nasty smile spreading further the faster the wheels in her hair turned. "This'll be way better than me and Jax winning Prom King and Queen instead of that bowlegged skank. Let's make it Tara Knowles and David Hale…..Charming's star Quarterback...and the girl he couldn't help trying to save, nearly losing his life in the process….God, I'm a fuckin genius. I wish I thought of it sooner. I still have the number of that cute reporter from ABC news. We could have sensationalized the moment. We all know what an attention whore she is anyway. She'd eat it right up, and Jackson would be pissed."

"You do realize that _Jax _is the one who saved her right?" Kendra questioned. "He went up against S.W.A.T and the F.B—"

"David _helped!" _Maize snapped. "And he got shot in his chest…bullet barely missed his heart, right before it grazed his spine. And what did Jackson get? A flesh wound on his side? David's football career could have been over, not to mention he could have ended up in a wheelchair. You saw the two of them at the Career day fair. He's the reason Jax and Tara were arguing before he stormed out. And the way Stephanie and Tara were fighting? They still have feelings for each other. It's obvious, the same as before when Tara caught me and David in his bedroom at Sarah Hale's welcome back party. Jackson _hates _when Tara and David are around each other, too."

"Ask me how I know," Lauren "Sage" Vidal mumbled, laughing under her breath when Ima and Maize both shot her death glares. "I'm just saying," She continued, shrugging her shoulders. "I didn't believe the hype until I experienced it for myself. He'll never have my nose wide open like you two hoe-bags but I definitely know what keeps you coming back."

Natasha was on a completely different page when she cocked her head sideways. "Wait a minute, you hooked up with _David?"_

"Is that what you choose to fixate on?" Maize turned to glare at Natasha. "Seriously? We didn't even make it past second base."

"That must have been a first for you," Ima remarked, brushing her hair.

Kendra's hand flew out just in time to block the compact mirror flying towards her face when Maize knocked it out of Ima's hand.

Natasha's mashed at the gum caught between her teeth, angrily popping the gum in her mouth. The firecracker-like sound blended well with the hiss that slipped past her lips when she sucked her teeth. "I guess I'm just wondering why it's okay for _you _to be into the QB but when _I _talked about making a play for him you said he's only the captain because his father funds the sports department…"

"Look, whatever we're doing, we need to do it and be _done_," Stacy interjected, curling her fingers in towards her palm to examine her nails. "Frankly, I'm bored with all of this. Don't get me wrong. The whole wedding day prank was actually pretty funny until that crazy bitch Donna slammed my face into a locker. I'm too pretty to be catty twenty-four seven. And Mama needs a _fill-in_. Decide now or y'all can handle this pointless vendetta against the drunk's daughter on your own."

"I heard he's been sober for months now," Kendra commented. "That insult's not gonna hold up for much long—"

_"Who the fuck asked you?" _Maize snapped. Her head swerved left to right when she asked, "Who the Hell even voted her in? Bitch talks too much!"

"At least she paid for her own uniform," Natasha mumbled, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. "I haven't seen my eighty dollars yet. And that was last year I loaned it to you—"

"Okay!" Stacy chimed, pushing her chair back to stand up. "King Hale and Queen Knowles it is, then! Check all the boxes first, and then cut them out. It'll go faster. Keep some extras in your clutches for tonight in case you need to switch out somebody's vote. Seeing as everyone seemed to want Tara to win anyway, shouldn't take you too long. Just switch our 15...sorry, our 14 votes for Maize with Tara."

"Where are you going?" Maize asked, voicing the question on all the other cheerleaders' minds as they watched Stacy head for the door.

"To do something that actually _interests _me," The bored High School Senior answered, pushing the double doors open. "I'm too old for this shit."

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* * *

Men of Mayhem didn't wear suits.

They didn't wear them at funerals, or weddings. Well-meaning defense attorneys could barely convince them to leave their leather Kuttes in the closet, let alone slip into a stuffy, custom-tailored suit.

And their children were raised to be just as informal—even at their elementary school graduations, the Junior prom they probably only stuck around long enough for to spike the punch and watch the chaperons act a fool out on the dance floor with the students.

If John Teller hadn't survived the attempt on his life, even then Jax wouldn't have worn a suit to his burial. Brutal and cutthroat as it was, the MC life left only one certainty, and it was that those who died before their natural time would die bloody. That knowledge reflected in the brief moments he'd spent by his father's bedside, listening to the hospital monitors beeping through the pounding in his eardrums from all the strength it took not to break down into a fit of angry, bitter sobs. Those were the moments he'd envisioned himself, pressing two heavily-ringed fingers to his lips right before pressing them to his father's headstone when he didn't make it.

Even then, he could see the leather Kutte hanging off his shoulders, the crisp, white sneakers he loved to wear, and the nods of approval when he'd finally come of age and yanked the gavel from Clay Morrow's greedy hands. The entire mental picture screamed of formality, a forgone conclusion even.

And yet, somehow Jackson Teller's actions had never been more formal than the suit-jacket he was shrugging into, finally fully clothed in the black, designer tuxedo he'd picked out during his break at work. Tara was nervous about him picking one up last minute, but she didn't need to be. The unraveled strip of silk in his hand was all there was left to top off the ultimate Calvin Klein model look.

If only he knew how to tie the damn thing.

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* * *

"It's about damn time," John Teller goaded, glancing towards the handsome young man emerging from the back hallway of the house. "I was starting to think you and Tara switched chromosomes."

"Fuck you," Jax bit back, sliding out of the way when his father took a swing at him. "Can you help me with this shit? I feel like I'm learning how to tie my shoe laces again."

"Maybe you should call Tara," JT remarked, taking the silk tie out of his son's hand to take a crack at putting it on him. "I _know _she used to tie them for you in Kindergarten."

"Me _and _Opie," Jax clarified. "And we learned how to do it in like five seconds when she showed us the way her mom taught her. You and Piney always gotta make shit complicated. You start with two loops_. _Simple."

"Hey, at least I tried to teach you," JT countered, shaking the tie loose when the end results of his second try still looked like more of a knot than a bow. "Gemma was happy to keep tying them for you, or let you tuck them into your….."

The MC President's harmless rant trailed off, followed by the awkward clearing of his throat when he caught Jax's expression. "Jesus Christ," JT muttered, moments later. He shook his head at the thin strip of silk between his fingers. "This shit couldn't come with a clip-on?"

_"I'll do it."_

Both Teller's snapped their heads towards the young woman slowly walking towards them. Maureen Ashby's smile was nervous, but warm as she studied the hardened expression on the sixteen year old standing in the middle of the living room.

"No thanks, I got it," Jax grunted out, without bothering to continue looking her way. His face lacked any signs of guilt when he said it even when he saw disappointment flash in his father's eyes—especially then. "Fuck this," He grumbled, when his fifth attempt failed. "I'll just wear it without the tie."

"I saw Tara's dress," Maureen admitted, taking a couple steps closer still. "Her and Diane showed it to me….that bowtie is the perfect match for it."

Jax cut his eyes in her direction, and damn it if it didn't look like the least appealing task he'd been forced to do in years. "I knew that when I bought it because I asked her."

_"Jackson_—"

"Fine, whatever," Jax interrupted, waving his hand in his father's direction. "If you can tie it, go ahead and do it. Hopefully the limo will be here soon so I can get the f—"

"Listen, Shithead—"

It was Maureen who raised a hand to him that time. "Its fine, Johnathan."

"Yeah, _Johnathan. _It's _fine." _Jax managed a wry smirk. And having already racked up plenty of experience pretending she wasn't there, he glanced beyond Maureen's face as she fixed the bowtie around his neck—instead fixing his blue eyes on someone behind her.

Jax glanced over her shoulder at the little girl making her way into the living room with them. Trinity Teller resembled the good-natured Angel she _wasn't. _Her long, strawberry blonde hair hung in thick, shirt-temple curls. The rhinestones embedded into her headband formed a halo around her crown of her head. The tiara match perfectly with the white, eyelet dress she was wearing, and the shiny, white ballet-style shoes clicking along the hardwood floor as she made her way over to them—dragging the Teddy bear Tara had bought her at her side, absently dusting the floor as she smiled up at him.

"_Jackie-boy!" _Trinity chanted, dropping the stuffed animal in her right hand to hold both arms up towards Jax. Maureen and JT laughed together, both parents beaming at the well-groomed teenager's look of horror when Trinity immediately yanked apart the bowtie her mother had just finished tying the second he complied with her request to be picked up.

Trinity was already showing her devil's horns within the few seconds it took Maureen to fix his tie again, this time fastening the bow tighter. Passing the spoiled tot to his Old man had earned Jax a kick in the shoulder and JT a smack to his nose when she'd protested the exchange from one person's arms to another like the hot—_sack of—_potatoes she was.

"Thank you," Jax mumbled at the redhead who was too busy making googly-eyes at the father kissing his daughter into a fit of giggles. "Where's she going anyway? She's a little young for a high school dance."

Maureen chewed at her bottom lip, and her light eyes flitted back and forth between JT's nod of encouragement and the suspicion in his sixteen year old son's face. "I was….well, I was actually hoping to get a few pictures of you two together….for your Da'"

JT was almost sure his son was going to be difficult (read: an asshole) again until Jax nodded stiffly—turning to hold his hands out towards the little girl in his fathers arms. "Come here….you little nightmare."

Little nightmare—that's what he called her.

He called her a little nightmare when she dropped her parents' toothbrushes in the toilet, and when she'd inadvertently drawn Tara's attention to the fact that he hadn't bothered to switch the one he knew belonged to Maureen out for a new one when she snuck back into the bathroom that second time.

She was also_ "devil spawn" _when she refused to go to sleep that one and only time Tara volunteered to watch her bad ass. (And no, it had nothing to do with her interrupting what he'd been about to do with his mouth when she turned the knob on his bedroom door after slipping out of Thomas' old room for the the sixth time that night.)

JT had thrown in the towel a long time ago where getting Jax to warm up to his soulmate was concerned. Jax was his mother's child after all. He loved deep, and hated deeper. Getting him to stop snapping at her and glaring holes into Maureen's face every morning was as good as it was going to get as far as he could tell.

But Trinity was a different story altogether.

He warmed up to Trini almost immediately. Just like the first time he'd held her in his arms, Jax was wrapped around her finger the second he'd picked her up at his birthday party. Even if he wouldn't admit it aloud, John Teller was certain that his son loved being a big brother again.

"Okay one more," Maureen promised, snapping the camera in her hand one final time. Monkey see, monkey do had been in full effect for the semi-awkward photo-shoot. When Jax pressed his lips against the cheek of the pretty little girl in his lap, Trini's tiny hand clawed into his chin when she dragged his face down to copy him for the next frame.

And in the end, after a couple shots with JT joining his children on his front steps, Jax had even extended an olive branch just thin enough that he offered to take a couple snapshot of Maureen Ashby and her two favorite people.

JT and Maureen had wisely chosen to make the photograph more about their love for the mini-me sitting between them, but even as they tried their best not to, the love they shared reflected in every measured touch or stolen glance until Jax dropped his hands, at once remembering why it had been a begrudging offer in the first place.

And they were all spared the renewed awkwardness sure to follow when the driver pulling the stretch limo up to the curb honked his horn—sounding the arrival of his ride for the night. It wasn't his Harley, but it would do.

"Later, Old Man."

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

As it turned out, Chastity decided to wear the purple-trimmed fedora anyway, despite the majority vote leaning towards _pass. _Lyla, her date for the evening seemed to love it, too. He hadn't even been in the limousine more than a few minutes and he'd already seen her tug at the purple feather sticking out of twice as they leaned into each other, talking.

"You better stop before Chaz _and _her date kick your ass."

Jax turned towards the other blonde sitting directly across from him, head resting against Lowell's shoulder. "Girl on girl?" Wendy challenged, wriggling her eyebrows at him. "Don't worry you won't be alone….I can see Opie getting a few smacks upside his head before the night is over."

"Get your mind out of the gutter," Jax replied, smirking. She'd caught him exactly but he'd never admit to it. And besides, it wasn't as if the "the double-mint twins" scenario playing in his head could measure up to the dream he'd had that one night after Tara forced him to binge-watch all those episodes of that boring, 60's TV drama a couple weeks back. Rachel Menken definitely should have gotten way more screen time than the short arc they'd given her.

But the dream he'd had with him, Rachel, and Tara wearing nothing but Ms. Menken's expensive fur had been interesting to say the least. And it had earned him a hard smack over the head with the spiral notebook in Tara's hand when she's heard him muttering the name "Rachel" in his sleep. Tara had conveniently decided he didn't _have _to watch the finish watching the final season, too. (Even though there were only three episodes left.)

"You enjoying your lesbian fantasy over there?"

"Can we pick a different topic?" Lowell Jr. interjected, averting his gaze from the hot couple in question when they started kissing. Both teenage girls were in their own little world, much like Jax and Tara even when they were in a room full of noisy people—like the cafeteria on career day.

Wendy snickered, not even the slightest bit offended at the sixteen year old doing a poor job of subtly adjusting the coal-grey dress pants she'd chosen to go with the short, hot-pink dress she was wearing—and the pink tie he'd succumbed to wearing. "_Boys."_

**0-8888888-0-8888888-0-8888888-0**

* * *

"Damn it, Tara." Diane scowled at the pretty face trapped within the grip she had on her chin. "I would be finished already if you'd stopped moving."

Tara snorted. "I would stop flinching if you'd stop trying to poke my eye out!"

"Did that dress _really _come like that?" Arthur Knowles asked, wary eyes flitting down past the waistline of his daughter's prom dress. "That doesn't look like it was supposed to be that way. And on _both _sides."

"Yes, Arthur," Tara lamented, rolled her eyes as she responded to her father's skepticism for the millionth time. "The dress was made _exactly _the way you see it. I didn't make any alterations."

Arthur pursed his lips to one side, stepping around his younger sister to get a full view of every angle of her prom attire. "You still have a few minutes before the limo gets here, right? Maybe Dee can pin the sides with a couple safety—"

"That kinda defeats the purpose, don't you think?"

"You kids these days," Arthur huffed, crossing his arms. "Always so flashy—with _everything. _Even your….look, there's nothing wrong with leaving something to the imagination where your date's concerned. When I went to my school dances the girls wore gloves up to their elbows, and—"

"they carved their schoolwork out on stone-paper, and rode dinosaurs to school instead of their boyfriend's Harley," Tara remarked, rolling her eyes yet again. This time, when the straight line Diane attempted to draw with her eyeliner failed they were both at fault as the laughed at the expression on the elder Knowles' face. "It's called a slit, Dad. My dress has two of them. It's _really _not a big deal. I have shorts that stop higher up than this….and Jackson has already seen me in every pair so…."

"But that's so…." Arthur twisted his face up, his voice lowering to a horrified whisper when he uttered, "_provocative." _

And Tara was laughing again, and also potentially smudging the makeup lining the corners of her eyes—again.

"Okay," Diane exclaimed, sliding the cap back on the eyeliner in her hand. She tucked the makeup pen into the breast pocket of her scrub top before spinning the smoky-eyed teenage girl in front of her around, ushering her towards the front door. "Let's see if I can get a few good pictures of you before I leave for my shift."

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* * *

"Tara!" Donna shrieked when she turned her head towards the footsteps squishing against the Winston's front lawn. Tara had made a beeline towards the handsome couple quietly flirting in the center of it before Diane could figure out how to turn the camera in her hand on. "Oh my God. You look hot!"

"So do you," Tara responded, playfully tugging at the plunging neckline of the lacy, maroon dress Donna was wearing. Opie seemed to be a lot more content than usual, happy even—and Tara had good reason to believe his mood had a whole lot to do with the birdseye view he had of the breasts barely secured by whatever pasties or tape she'd used to keep them within the faux-leather material. Tara was fixing her non-filtering mouth to make a wisecrack about Opie's Biker-prom chic getup when the Senior Winston, and the two Knowles she'd abandoned in her yard approached them—both Piney and Diane wielding a camera in their hands. "Hey, Piney."

"Hey, Baby girl." Piney glanced down towards the shoes on her feet, gradually working their way back up to her face. His eyebrows rose in question, and his narrowed eyes had briefly touched upon the face of the man standing next to her when he couldn't help but comment. "Jesus Christ. You think the slits in that dress are high enough?"

Donna and Diane snickered, Arthur grunted out a begrudging, "Ah-Huh," in agreement and Opie had even done a poor job of swallowing smile.

"Wow," Tara shook her head at the SAMCRO VP still scrutinizing her attire. "Okay, _Dad," _the frustrated brunette snarked, rolling her eyes towards the sun setting above them. "You of all people should be the last person to complain. Clothing is optional wherever you and the MC parties."

The sunset hadn't come along nearly as quickly as the darkening of every male face surrounding her. And it wasn't nearly as pretty as the rosy cheeks her aunt Diane was sporting, or the clip Donna had accidentally knocked out of her hair when she lifted a hand to scratch at the nape of her neck.

"Seriously?" Tara challenged, her incredulous glare bouncing back and forth between the five strained expressions around her. She waved a hand towards Donna's chest. "You do realize she had to buy _pasties _in order to wear that dress, right?"

The silent picture of five was spared the need to remedy the awkwardness hanging in the air when the limousine pulled up behind her. "Oh thank, _God," _Tara huffed. "I know one person who will appreciate my dress. Jax is going to _love _it."

Truer words had never been spoken.

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* * *

Jax wasn't sure which one hit the floor first.

His chin, or the plastic box with her corsage that he'd dropped on the curb when he tossed his legs outside the limo to climb out of it.

"Pick up your jaw, Jax," Chastity teased, nudging his shoulder to remind him of the line of teens waiting behind him to get out of the limousine. "I want to take pictures with all of us before we get all sweaty."

"I'm not sure I can guarantee that," Jax muttered, stepping out onto the curb. He barely felt the box Lyla had picked up from the ground for him when she placed it in his hands. He didn't remember to thank her either. She was just one of nearly a dozen people he couldn't be bothered to spare a glance. They were all just a bunch of faded colors, one blurring into another because he only had eyes for one person, and one person only.

"You see something you like, Teller?" Tara asked. Her hips swayed left and right as she met him at the halfway point between her yard and Opie's.

Jax's hands were trembling but the muscles wired through his arms kept them stiff at his sides, like the mannequin he'd joked about being days before. He wasn't sure his hands could be trusted in that moment. There were way too many parts of her he wanted to touch.

Like the thighs playing peekaboo underneath the folds of her dress from the high slits on both sides. Or the breasts tempting him within the sweetheart neckline of the strapless corset-styled bodice. Even the complete exposure of her neck set his teeth on edge as he fought the urge to take advantage of the faux-hawk bun her aunt had pinned her curls into with the silver, rhinestone-encrusted comb glittering above her right ear. And it didn't take a physic to know that if Jax had his way—the heels of the silver, four and a half inch stilettos on her feet would be digging hard into the skin of his back before the night was over.

The loosely-flowing train of the gown hugging the curves of her waist twisted in the wind from the light breeze as those mile-long legs came to a stop in front of him. And as gorgeous as the emerald gown was it simply couldn't compete with the radiance that was the way Tara's green eyes sparkled as she smiled at him.

"_Love," _Jax corrected, finally moving a hand—past the tempting cleavage he'd brushed against with his forearm—to press a palm to her face. "I love it, Babe," He told her, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. His voice dropped lower still when he leaned down to whisper against her ear. "You look so fuckin sexy, Tara….You _are _evil, and I really hope you didn't plan on returning that dress after the dance because it might not make it through the night..."

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**TO BE CONTINUED...**

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	92. Chapter 75: Part II

**ORIGINAL Author's Note: **Skipping the pre-**R**amble this time around. Just shout me out over on my page FACEBOOK **{Slash} VeritableOldLadyCrow **|dot| **COM** if you're in the mood to go all _Mrs. Molly Weasley_ on my ass: (WHEREEEE HAVE YOU BINNNN?!)

****NEW AUTHOR'S NOTE** **FYI: This isn't the **FULL** chapter by any stretch. I've been staring at half-written chapter sections for weeks now. And I just got back from vacation a few days ago only to be doing the same shit. And I can't torture myself and my fingers anymore (seriously, why do Mac laptops not have a backspace button? it makes deleting the lines I hate that much more of a task.)

I think I've been out of commission so long that I'm back to where I first started as far as the confidence to just write whatever and assume it flows properly. So you guys let me know if you're still feeling it and that _should_ do the trick. I been saying y'all are my muses from day 1 so maybe knowing where your head's at will help the wheels in my brain get the **grease** it (desperately) needs. Still there, y'all? Well... get **SQUEAKY** for me, will ya?

P.S: Sorry for the major typos I know this is littered with. I didn't want to chance re-reading it and chickening out on posting at all.

**Chapter 75: **Part II

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**^*~****MARCH * ~^MARCH ^~ MARCH * MARCH* MARCH ~^ MARCH ^~ MARCH * MARCH * MARCH ~*^**

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_**March **25**th**_

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"She's beautiful," Arthur murmured, staring off into the street. Several minutes had passed since the limousine pulled off from the curb in front of their houses. Tara, Jax and their friends had allowed for plenty of pictures before they rode off to the CHS Spring Formal. And most of them were inside the camera Diane handed over to him, right before backing out of the driveway to head off to her overnight shift at the hospital.

Only one other person remained.

Piney Winston—clicking through his own camera's worth of photographs.

Piney stood alongside him, only a few steps apart on his own lawn. The veteran biker grunted his amusement at the threatening gleam frozen in Jax's eyes in a picture where Tara had been the last of the ladies who followed Chastity's suggestion that they all take turns posing for the camera while sitting in Lowell's lap. He shook his head at the young couple who clearly hadn't realized—or in Jax's case, didn't care—they were in the frame of the picture Piney had taken of Donna and Opie alone. Judging by Jax's hand gripping Tara's thigh from underneath the flaps of the high-slit in her dress, and the blue-eyed teenagers lips pressed against her air, the twosome had other things on their minds.

Diane had snapped so many beautiful photos of all of the couples, but none of them quite captured the love in Tara's eyes or the unabashed adoration exuding from Jax's when he held her from behind—their faces cheek to cheek, her hands enveloped within his as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Arthur had even caught an only slightly blurry snapshot of Diane bumping with her hip when he refused to step aside for the five seconds it would have taken her to get a picture with just her and her niece. Opie surprised everyone by actually cracking a smile in one or two of the photos before his resting-grouch-face resurfaced. Tara even curled an arm around Wendy's neck to take a picture standing between her and Chastity, instead of to choke her as the former blonde's assumed, if her not-so-subtle flinch at first contact was any indication.

Both men had their fair share of Kodak moments.

And they'd both ended up right where they'd started…Studying the Olive-eyed beauty striking a pose in front of the limo all by herself.

"Yes, she is…."

"_I always knew_." Reluctantly, Piney looked up from the camera in his hands. His indigo gaze was met with a wistful expression that frequently switched between being more bitter, or more sweet. It was never quite in the middle. Like choosing to see a glass as half-full or half empty, Arthur's thoughts, ancient memories seem to warrant fluctuation. "…Moira and I, we always knew we wanted kids. We'd talked about before we even got married and…she couldn't wait to start trying the second I carried her over that threshold…it's uncanny how much she looks like her mother now…especially considering how much she looked like you when she was a baby. Moira ever show you pictures of her? When she was a toddler?"

Piney turned towards him. He dropped his arm, ignoring the tight pull against his wrist when the heavy camera attached to the cord dropped from his hand, dangling at his side as he squared his shoulders. "If you're looking for an apology, you're not going to get one. I don't regret any of it."

"No regrets, Huh?" Arthur chuckled. "Well I'd say that sounds just about right coming from you."

Piney stepped forward, stopping just as the toe of his boots touched the property line separating the two households. "You got something you wanna get off your chest? Huh? Am I last one on the list of whatever twelve-step program you're working?"

"Moira was having trouble getting pregnant," Arthur admitted, smiling. His grin was one without humor as he absently raked a hand through his prematurely graying hair. "I lost count of how many sticks she peed on. Back and forth to the doctor, changing her diet, staying up all night looking shit up on the computer. It never once occurred to us that I might have been the problem. It never occurred to me anyway….all I saw was my wife being let down over and over again and I just wanted it to stop…broke my heart every time she'd look at that cheap plastic tube for two lines that weren't there….it was around that time that I got laid off. We struggled for a bit…Moira had to pick up a few extra shifts while I found part-time work…I figured then I had the perfect excuse...We couldn't _afford _a kid…I reckon she knew what I really meant though…what I was saying without actually saying the words…thought I blamed her…or she blamed me, I don't know which it was but…we kinda grew apart after a while. We still loved each other…we just didn't know how to get back to where we were...then one morning out of the blue she got really sick…."

Piney frowned. "She got sick?"

His frown deepened when a wide smile turned up the corners of the other man's mouth. "She got sick," Arthur repeated, smirking. There was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, even as he shook his head. "No, it wasn't _that_," the eldest Knowles assured, waving a hand at the assumption clear on the biker's face. Moira's battle with cancer when Tara was eight had been both her very first and sadly her last. "I woke up to her to leaning over the toilet bowl," Arthur explained. "Same thing happened the next morning and the morning after that. It was around that time, she found out why my innocent answer of _yes _when she asked me if I thought she'd gained some weight wasn't so off base. Six months later, Tara was born…we named her after my mother and hers. _Tara Grace…_I'd be the last person to give any weight to the whole idea of having kids bringing two people back together…especially given how everything turned to shit years later but… for a while we were happy. We were happy until I decided to move my family to a small-town in California…we were happy until I noticed that my daughter didn't get her chin or her nose from her mother's side…she wasn't just all Moira…she got them from my next-door neighbor…the one my wife pretended she'd never met before…"

If Piney's gun had been inside his kutte, he might have reached for it. There was simply no mistaking the sudden deadliness of the glare being shot in his direction. "I knew you two had a history the second you looked at her," Arthur told him, nostrils flaring. "And you're _Old lady," _He sneered, using air quotes. "She knew it, too if the way she looked back and forth between you and my three-year old was anything to go on. I'd never met you before that day, never even caught a glimpse of you that wasn't reflected in little Gracie's face and I knew right away. Your _wife—_she knew right away. I can't help wondering why it never even occurred to you…or if maybe you've known along...deep down…underneath all of the regrets you have about everything except ruining my marriage and taking my—"

"_Don't you even say it, Motherfucker!" _Smith &amp; Wesson be damned—Piney didn't need a weapon to lay a man out. And he was well on his way with a hard shove to Arthur's chest, and two of his heavily-ringed fingers pointing hard in the other glaring man's face. "I _never_ took her! You're the one that left. You left _her _behind. And you better believe Tara wouldn't have been around for you to leave her on her own like you did if I _had _known! Moira didn't tell me _shit! _She kept my daughter from me. She left her to spend her life cleaning up after her sorry-ass husband! Some miserable fuck who couldn't even be man enough to swallow his pride and do right by a little girl that didn't do a goddamn thing to have to pay for her mother's choices."

"Maybe you didn't know," Arthur shoved him back, shrugging his shoulders before cocking his head to one side. Squinting his eyes, he said, "And maybe she never got around to telling you the truth. But guess what, Asshole? She told _me." _Arthur slapped a palm to his chest repeatedly, punctuating each word, "She. _Told._ Me…After years of lying about the first time she met you…after all those nights when her study group for one of her classes _ran late, _or the _extra shifts _she picked up at the hospital because she didn't want me killing myself just to support her going back to school full time. Did you give her that money? Huh? Were you paying her to fuck you while I read your daughter her bedtime story?"

Arthur merely smirked when the first fist came flying towards his face. He didn't even flinch. Red stained glittering in his smile of triumph. More dark joined the trail of blood pooling from the corner of his mouth when the second punch landed, crunching against his nose, sending him stumbling backwards. Arthur let out a loud hawk, and spit clear across the gap between them, spraying red all over Piney's left boot. "She _told _me that Tara was yours. After years of me playing dumb…of me choosing to believe her because that was the only thing that stopped me from killing my wife, or losing the six-year-old who looked just like her. She told me that Tara wasn't my daughter. She told me that I was right along. And this is the best part—you ready? She told me she was tired of my drinking every time I came home…tired of me staying out all night…tired of me shutting my family out…she _told me _that deep down I always knew the truth no matter how many times she denied it but I wasn't man enough. I wouldn't have been _man _enough to put my pride aside and work it out if she told me, and I _wasn't _man enough to walk away even though she knew I wanted to. So she was walking away _for _me. You believe that shit?"

"I don't give a shit about your history," Piney hissed, clenching his fists at his sides. "It doesn't matter what she said to you. You could have fought—"

"Fought for her?" Arthur interrupted, finishing his sentence. His eyes were wide, his eyebrows high on his forehead. "Which her? Tara? Or your personal _croweater?_ That's what you assholes call the women you fuck while your wives are home raising your kids, right? Well here's the thing, _Piney. _According to Moira she wasn't just walking away or herself. She was doing it for Tara's sake, too. She said you were walking away with her. She said you were leaving your _club_…that she was leaving me…that she was taking _her _daughter with her, and that if I knew anything about the SONS and what you leather wearing butt-buddies were really capable of I wouldn't fight her on it. Apparently all the years she spent sucking your cock _had-her-convinced-that-you-were-man-enough!"_

The end of Arthur's final sentence came out in a gasp. A single breath was all he had to spare when the hard blow to his stomach sent him keeling over—right in line with Piney's other fist; the one punch that sent his head veering backwards, with another sharp blow to his mouth, this one from the enraged biker's elbow helping the rest of his body along.

Piney was spinning on his heel, seeing nothing but the color red—a shade fifty times darker than the blood leaking from Arthur's face. He was heading towards his house, off to get his gun, or the knife he'd taken from his belt when he got home—whichever one he saw first. He'd made it to his front steps when the gurgling started. Glancing back, he watched as Arthur choked on the blood spurting from his mouth. He stood there, watching as the man on the ground struggling to turn over. Arthur finally managed to turn on his stomach, to push up on trembling arms when the second wave of bloody-vomit poured from his mouth, showering the lawn, staining the dark green, scarlet. Their eyes met—Arthur's rolled up towards the spot where stood, in front of his steps, before the blinking of his watery eyes slowed to an eventual stop.

Slowly, Piney walked back towards him, pausing a moment to take a quick glance at the quiet block of houses surrounding them before nudging a foot to the fallen man's side, turning him on his back. However labored his breathing was, the rise and fall of Arthur's chest was still there. But for how long?

Not _very_, if his current non-responsive state was any indication. He needed immediate medical attention. Only one other person was currently around to call an ambulance. And it was the man standing over him, trying to blink away the memory shooting to forefront of his mind. It was a man desperately trying to will the ruthless outlaw to come to surface with another memory.

_She didn't have many days left. Moira Knowles had fought as hard as she could, and she'd fared better in the war within her own body for a lot longer than her doctor's prognosis. But she was fading fast. Everything but her beauty. Moira was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met and as he stared into the backyard across from his own he knew that Moira's beauty would outlive her—mind, body and soul. Every bit of, every fiber, right down to the emerald hue of her eyes would be preserved in the eight-year-old staring at him from her usual spot—sitting on the bench of the tiny red picnic table Jackson and Opie had helped him put together. Little Tara had been crying again._

_And her father had shoved her out onto the back porch—again. He'd yelled that she could come back inside when she stopped crying over him being too tired to take her up to visit her _whore ass mother…_the one who _was finally getting just what karma owed her. _It was only by the accidental grace of his best friend's Old Lady that Arthur Knowles was still breathing. He'd wanted to bury the son-of-a-bitch when Moira turned up at the emergency room with a bleeding scalp and what doctor's thought was a concussion. Even though she'd sworn what happened wasn't accident, Piney always knew it was one that probably wouldn't have happened if it hadn't been the same night she told him she was leaving. When Gemma caught wind of Moira being at the hospital she'd run straight to JT. And several hours later, while Moira was shaking hands with Charming Med's oncologist for the first time, John Teller was putting the fate of her husband to a vote. _

_JT and Bobby were the only ones to vote "Nay" on teaching Arthur Knowles about mistreating the fairer sex. Three years later, they were voting again—this time on whether or not to kill him and let Piney take Moira's orphaned daughter on as his own. And after years of watching Arthur growing increasingly abusive and neglectful, Bobby had finally come around to his line of thinking. _

_JT was the only hold out—and it wasn't his President's patch that stopped the vote going in his favor. A mayhem vote on anyone required unanimous agreement. John Teller had merely cited the mistreated little Tara Knowled herself as the reason Piney shouldn't do it._

_And it wasn't until he saw the look on her face as she watched her father being wheeled into the ambulance next to her. The pain in her eyes wasn't from the alcohol being rubbed against the cut on her check. It was because of the fear slowly bleeding into the pained look already marrying her cherubic face when she couldn't hear her father answering any of the questions the EMT's were asking him. That asshole had nearly killed his own kid driving into the Vidal's dry cleaner's. Her wrist was sprained and she had a hickey the size of a baseball above her eye, and she didn't start crying until the EMT tending to her wounds told her she couldn't ride with her Daddy and make sure he was okay._

The cellphone was all but burning a hole into Piney's palm. He'd pulled it from the denim Kutte on his back but he'd made no move to flip it open, or dial the three keys he'd stopped dialing when he came back from a war he'd been fighting for a country that didn't give a shit if he made it back home.

Just four keys. The number nine, the number one (twice), and the bright green letters that read |SEND|. If he called for help, he'd probably be saving his life, but in that moment the idea of calling felt a lot like giving away something he never knew he had to begin with—it was like admitting to himself that no matter how worthless and fucked up he was Arthur Knowles still meant more Tara—_their _daughter—than he ever could. More than he ever would. Piney Winston had to make a decision. And it wasn't matter of whether or not he wanted to do the right thing. The anger and resentment tightening his chest and making his nostrils flare was indication enough as to what he wanted to do.

It was simply a matter of whether or not he could stand to see that look on Tara's face again. The defeated expression she'd worn the day he showed her how to throw dirt on her mother's grave when her father's was too hungover to stand up with her. Would little Jackson Teller, the blue-eyed boy who wasn't a boy at all anymore be enough to get her through this, too?

Could he really live with himself if he didn't at least try to save her…her _father's _life? The answer came to him quick as a hiccup—the affirmative screamed inside his head, rattling and bouncing and echoing off his skull because _Hell fucking yeah, _he could live with it just like he lived with every other unconscionable thing he'd done throughout his life, both pre and post-war.

The question was, _would he?_

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The Spring formal was already in full swing when they arrived. Lyla and Chastity made a beeline for the dance floor the second they heard the music. Wendy wheeled Lowell along closely behind them, rambling about how much she loved the song currently playing. Opie volunteered to pick out their table—which according to what he told a scowling Donna on their way across the parking lot, was where he planned to stay.

"You know I don't dance," Opie had grumbled, frowning at the glare his pint-sized girlfriend was shooting him.

For a moment they'd stood their awkwardly while the couple behind them behaved like two newly-weds who were too impatient for the elevator to reach their honeymoon suite. Tara and Jax seemed more like they were passing the time between the limo ride and their hotel instead of waiting in line to use one of the two photo booths set up along the dimly-lit hallway.

By the time Donna and Opie had made it to the front of the line, the smaller of the two had lost patience with the young SAMCRO prospect's attitude. "Do you even _want_ to take a picture with me?"

"We didn't take enough pictures at the house?" Opie merely rolled his eyes at the hurt in her expression. Shrugging his shoulders, his toned seemed even more blasé as he added, "Well I'm here aren't I?"

"_Fuck this shit_." Donna slapped the purse in her hand against Opie's chest before turning to address the couple standing in line directly behind them. "You don't want to be here? Leave. You can go shoot pool with your leather buddies. All I know is that _somebody's _dancing with me tonight."

"She already dragged you here," Jax commented, briefly turning away from the sweet spot on Tara's neck. The glaze from the whiskey he and Tara had been sipping on their way over was clear in his eyes. "You might as well dance with her."

"Oh, is that so?" Tara stepped back from him, crossing her arms. "Well if we had to drag you, you can feel free to drag yourselves back out into the parking lot to wait in the limo…don't go doing me any favors, Teller…"

"Are you shitting me?" Jax tilted his head, eyebrows rising. "I can't _wait _to dance with you."

_I'm gonna dance your ass right out of that dress._

Even someone who didn't know Tara as well as he did could tell how hard she was trying (and failing) not to smile instead of glare at him. And anyone who knew Jax Teller would know exactly what his words meant even if his eyes hadn't been trailing up and down the emerald gown draped around her, hugging her curves in all the right places.

Donna and Opie both rolled their eyes. "Looks more like you _both _should head out to the limo…" Raising a hand, the bracelets around her wrist jingled when she waved them off. "I'll see y'all inside…_if you ever make it inside."_

Jax's mouth had already resumed its earlier position, trailing down the smooth skin leading to Tara's collarbone but he turned just enough to toss Donna a quick nod of acknowledgment. His answering chuckle tickled Tara's shoulder when he caught Opie's eye only to see his ill-tempered friend flash him his middle finger before stomping behind his girlfriend.

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_"One large black and white milkshake, extra-thick with extra sprinkles and extra whipped cream on top…and a large fry."_

Dr. Carmela Knight couldn't be too sure, but she had a feeling that if she asked Diane Knowles for her hand in marriage in that moment she would have said yes. Her pretty eyes had taken on the shape of hearts when she held out the tall plastic cup in her hand.

Diane swiveled her chair around, leaving the crocs that hadn't even been on her feet underneath the computer desk. The tiny red and pink hearts sewn into her socks matched the two still staring back at her as Carmen pulled out the extra chair to sit next to her, tossing the bag of French fries in her hand onto the table. "Seriously...I could _kiss _you right now."

"I should probably take you up on the offer while I still find you attractive." Carmen snorted, shaking her head as she watched her friend and colleague shamelessly ripped the plastic cover off the cup, tossing it and the straw aside to gulp down her sugary treat, rubbing her pregnant belly all the while. "You keep at it with those shakes and you're going to need the plus-sized maternity scrubs."

Diane smacked her lips, swiping her tongue across the traces of ice cream on her top lip. "You wanna know one of the upsides to being single again? Besides not having to shave my legs? I no longer have to watch my weight..._nope_…I can just get…_gloriously _fat and it won't matter because I don't want to ever attract another man again anyway. Men are nothing but heartache and bad luck."

"Why do you think I date women?" Carmen laughed along with her, munching on the bag of crackerjack-caramel popcorn in her hand. "You might want to try switching teams before you eat yourself into an episode of my six-hundred-pound life."

"I'll get a gym membership," Diane argued, reaching the hand she waved in her direction into the greasy paper bag on the table. Pulling three fries, she dipped them each into the shake in her hand before popping them into her mouth. "…_eventually._"

The sound of a pager buzzing cut through their laughter. Diane dropped her eyes to stare at her left hip despite the lack of vibration felt against her thigh.

"_Duty calls_." When she looked back up, Carmen was already on her feet, tossing the bag of sticky-sweet popcorn in her hand aside, and using her sticky fingers to pull her loose blonde curls up into a messy pony-tail. "You can have some if you want, but don't eat the whole thing like last time. I don't wanna hear that eating for two shit either, Knowles. You've been eating for _three _lately. I don't know how your ass still looks like that amazing in those scrubs. I'm thinking witchcraft."

"Let me have what's left in the bag and I won't file a sexual harassment complaint with HR," Diane joked, already dipping her hand inside the bag of sugary popcorn. "What do you have anyway?"

"No clue," Carmen answered, quickly doubling back for her pager when she realized she hadn't replaced it on her hip. "Poor guy's throwing up blood by the pint though so it's gotta be something surgical. And I'm just that lucky to be the general on-call tonight. _See ya!"_

Diane was going over her charts, popping fistfuls of popcorn in her mouth and dunking greasy fried potatoes into the cup between her thighs when the door to her back office flew open not even five minutes later.

_"Why the Hell aren't you ignoring your pager?"_

Diane popped the French fries in her hand into her mouth, then curled her salted fingers around the pager on her hip to check the screen. "Battery must have finally died. My bad," She mumbled over the handful of dipped fries she stuffed into her mouth. "All my patients are good until morning though, so what's up?"

"What's _up?_" Nurse Patricia Coll slid a hand up to her hip. "Doctor Knight is about to wheel your brother into surgery! He collapsed on his front lawn. One of your neighbors called it in...He's not looking too good but—_Diane?"_

The cup she'd been balancing in her lap fell first. And as the milkshake pooled along the floor, Diane jumped up from her chair, rushing towards the door. That was when she slipped, losing her balance when the rolling chair she attempted to brace her weight on slid away from her.

The back of her head hit the desk behind her at the same time the office snapped shut behind the nurse rushing towards her, agile arms outstretched.

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Jax turned to smirk at the pretty, dark-haired girl standing on the line behind them as he pulled the giggling brunette wrapped in his arms into the booth in front of them. Raising his eyes, he immediately recognized her date, causing the friendliness in those baby-blue irises to vanish. The threatening edge in his voice matched the now lopsided curve of his smile as he tipped his head towards the other photo booth further up ahead. "Y'all might as well go wait in the other line for _that_ booth…we're gonna be in here a while."

"_Jackson!"_

Jax snickered at the bright red flooding his girlfriend's cheeks. Tara's smile was apologetic when she glimpsed the look of confusion on Brianna Wynter, her freshman biology lab partner's face as she watched just how quickly Leonard Wayland took off in the direction of the other booth. The handful of couples waiting on line behind them followed suit. Apparently knowing Jackson Teller really was capable of doing more than just yank someone up by their T-shirt on the school steps or break a guy's nose (David Hale, age 13) made him even more terrifying. Or perhaps, in Leonard's case at least, it was just another reason to avoid being anywhere near Tara.

Leonard and his father were probably still affected by what happened with Joshua Kohn, too. Joshua had held them both at gunpoint to get them to sneak him into the Hale's estate after all. And after everything that happened, Tara couldn't really bring herself to resent Leonard for lying about them hooking up last year. Or for blaming her for what happened to him and his dad.

But Jax, it seemed, had a much harder time when it came to forgiving anyone—except the girl mushing her palm against his forehead.

Tara frowned as she slid into the booth. "That was rude, Jackson."

Jax pulled the curtain closed, ignoring the slight sting on his forehead from her hand, choosing instead to focus on a far more throbbing sensation, further down his body. "I was just being honest..._Now come here_," He muttered, pulling her from where she sat beside him.

"It's too small in here," Tara explained, trying to push his hand away before he could pull her all the way onto his lap. "Who do you think I am? _Gumby?" _

"I might as well be Pokey since you're about to ride—Oww…_shit, _your knee's not supposed to go _there_, Tara."

Tara was laughing at his grunts of frustration and the determination creasing his forehead as he realized she was right after trying several different ways of maneuvering their bodies.

It was hilarious right up until he'd finally knocked the curtain down—exposing their tangled position to everyone standing nearby.

And before the surprise of being caught in yet another compromising position at school caused her fall out of his lap instead of sliding gracefully, causing the spiked edge of her heel to pull a cord that was clearly essential if the lights going off in the booth were anything to go by. "I _told _you," Tara groaned, blushing at their History teacher when she spotted among the handful of high schoolers along the wall. Mrs. Ferlito couldn't seem to decide between glancing away to pretend she didn't see them and casting an amused smirk at her favorite student and the bad-boy who used to go out of his way to annoy her (read: get her attention) during class.

Jax chuckled against her shoulder until she nudged him away. He laughed even harder when she whacked him with the clutch in her hand as she climbed over him to get out of what was left of the booth. "Come back," He called after her, still snickering as she walked off. His laughter wavered when one of the football jock he recognized from their math class accidentally bumped her shoulder on his way sending the tiny leather bag in her hand flying. He was either too stoned, too drunk or both to bother with more than a quick heavy-lidded glance to see if she was still in one piece before almost stepping on her when Tara crouched down to put her phone, lip gloss and everything else back into her purse.

It wasn't even the guy nearly clothes-lining his girl that wiped the mirth from his expression. It the look Tara gave him when she turned her head to see that he was watching her. It was the very little left for him to imagine thanks to the generous slit up the sides of her dress. It was her hand braced on the center of the thigh peeking out from under the fold, the nails digging into one of the favorite spots to place his hands. And above all else, it was the cocky smile Tara flashed him as she danced her way back up, waist twisting, thighs clapping, ass shaking and all until she was standing up—wriggling her fingers at him before disappearing inside the school gymnasium.

_I can't wait to get you out of that _fucking _dress. _

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_Come inside, take off your coat, I'll make you feel at home_

_Now let's pour a glass of wine 'cause now we're all alone_

_I've been waiting all night so just let me hold you close to me,_

_'Cause I've been dying for you girl and make love to me_

_Girl you make me feel real good_

_We can do it 'til we both wake up_

_Girl, you know I'm hook on you,_

_And this what I'll do…_

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"Excuse me, Ms. Case!" Mrs. O'Keefe screeched. The redhead woman was wise to readjust her wig because the speed at which she was shaking her head was likely to toss it off. "That behavior is unacceptable! This is not appropriate for a school dance at all!"

Lowell Junior glanced up when the blonde in his lap finally brought her gyrating to a stop. He might have swallowed his tongue if it was still hanging out of his mouth when his girlfriend merely threw an arm around his neck. His eyes were narrowed, but still open wide enough to see the steam seeping out of his teacher's ears when Wendy made a show of making out with him.

"Ms. Case!"

"What?" Wendy turned, cocking an eyebrow as she looked up at her. "You said we couldn't dance. So, what, we can't make out either?"

"No, you can't," Mrs. O'Keefe barked. Her wig tilted down towards her right ear as she waved her up in down, gesturing at the current position the two teenagers were in. "And there's no rule against dancing. You're being willfully obtuse. It's the dancing _you're _doing that's inappropriate!"

"He's in a wheelchair," Wendy exclaimed, shrugging her shoulders as she waved a hand towards the metal chair in question. "How the Hell else is he supposed to dance with his date? What? You want him to do the electric _wheel?_"

"It's fine, Wendy." Lowell's face was bright red even in the dimly lit room. "Let's just go sit with Donna and Opie."

Wendy rolled her eyes, turning towards the table they'd picked out. "You mean sit with Opie. Donna ditched him a long time ago." Pursing her lips, she looked out into the crowd. Chastity and Lyla had made their way out onto the dance floor the second they slipped out of the limousine. "Speaking of ditching," She added, "Where the Hell did Tara and Jax go?"

"I don't know about Jax…_but Tara's right there_."

And there she was, indeed.

Stopping the show—just to get it started with her in the starring role.

One by one she cast a smile at each of the drooling boys and scowling teenage girls shooting their dates dirty looks as they broke their necks to watch Charming High's most talked-about prom Queen candidate make her way over to her friends.

Lowell had the decency to look guilty when he finally realized just how long his date—the one currently sitting in his lap—had been watching him stare at the girl least likely to piss on her if she was on fire. Clearing his throat, LJ managed to shake his head with what he hoped would come off as nonchalant when he said, "I have a feeling Mrs. O'Keefe's going to wish Tara would dance more like you."

Smirking with amusement, Wendy raised a hand to ruffle his hair rather than to slap him like he seemed to expect. her shoulders. "_Hey_," She replied, scanning the crowd of angry female faces. "They wanted to make her infamous. She might as well enjoy it."

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The crowd parted like the red sea as Tara made her way through to the gorgeous couple in the center. Mrs. O'Keefe's request that the DJ play music that was less sexual didn't seem to matter much at all judging by the crowd's reaction to every new record spinning around the turntables. Tara, Chastity and Lyla—all eyes were on them as the two blondes did their best to follow the movement of the brunette sandwiched in between them.

Donna had popped in for a few rounds of raunchy girl on girl dancing, putting Opie out of the misery of barely moving while she danced on and around him. But after a while even she couldn't keep up with the go-go girls burning up the freshly polished gymnasium floor. What Tara lacked in the ability to drop into a split like gymnastics-champ Chastity, she certainly made up for in her way of making it look like her hips and waist were made of water when she moved. She didn't need to be double-jointed to drop it just low enough, and flash just enough thighs through the slits in her dress to have Jackson finally make his way out onto the dance floor with her.

He knew there was no way he could even attempt to keep up with her. So, he settled for standing where he could get a front-row view of the reason everyone in the fucking building knew he'd already won the home-court regardless of how the vote went because he was the one bringing Tara Knowles home. It was that and it made it easier to shoot death glares at any guy who looked tempted to approach her because he knew she was spiteful enough to say yes if for no other reason than to push his buttons. They'd already made their moves on the double-mint twins, but only Lyla was interested.

And it didn't go unnoticed by Chastity if the anxious look on her face was anything to go by. Tara didn't leave her long to worry over her sexually ambiguous date dancing with the hot guys from the lacrosse team though. She'd grabbed a hold of her hand and before Jax could make a run for the table, the two of them were making him dizzy with all the circles they were dancing around him.

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"_You enjoying the view?"_

David jumped at the sound of his girlfriend's voice in his ear. Turning towards her, he could feel the heat coloring his cheeks. "Did everything go okay with fixing the photo booth?" He blurted. "What the Hell even happened?"

"I heard it was Jax and _Tara_." Stephanie sniffed, spearing her eyes towards the brunette bending forward and grinding back against the blue-eyed sixteen-year-old behind her. "I used to think she hated all the negative attention she gets but I'm starting to think she loves it."

"If we were talking about my sister?" David nodded, thinking of Sarah and how she'd behave at the dance if she were there. "_Definitely_," Then he shook his head, "But Tara? Tara's not like that. She's just having fun… probably showing all of the people who hate het for no reason how much their opinion doesn't matter while she's at it."

"It figures you'd defend her," Stephanie retorted, rolling her eyes. "Tara can never do any wrong in your eyes. No matter how many times she's burned you she's still an Angel."

"What?" David squinted his eyes. "Steph, where is all of this even coming from? Do you...What, you think I'm still into Tara? Baby, come on. We're just friends and you know that. She's with Jax and I'm with you...Stephanie, I love you. How could you think—"

"—What I _think…_is that you took a bullet for her." Stephanie was already sliding to the edge of the chair she'd sat in beside him before the seat had fully warmed. "And things with us haven't been the same since."

"Steph—"

"It's fine," Stephanie held a hand up, effectively silencing the lie they both knew he'd been about to tell her. "That's not what I came over here for anyway. I was going to tell you that Stacy and the rest of her squad stuffed the ballot boxes. Kendra Reynold's spilled when I caught her sneaking out of the S.O office. And it's too late to do anything about it so…_Congratulations…_ you and Tara are the winners."

David's eyebrows bunched together. He reached towards the collar of his dress shirt, hoping to mask how hard he'd swallowed. "Me and Tara?"

"Don't ask me why they rigged the votes so that you two would win instead of Jax and one of them," Stephanie answered, nodding and shrugging simultaneously. "I have no clue what goes on in the minds of those airheads. But you might want to start working on your surprised face now."

_"Why aren't you guys dancing?" _Both of them looked up to see a breathless Tara standing in front of them, with Jax breathing hard against her neck, arm around her waist.

Stephanie chose that moment to stand. "I'll leave you to let your Queen know," She said, adjusting the hem of her dress. Without meeting the confused brunette's eyes she quietly mumbled, "You look really pretty Tara," as she slipped past them.

"What's up with her?" Jax asked, narrowing his eyes at the pained expression on David Hale's face. "And what did she mean by that whole your Queen comment? She's the head of that school committee shit right? Did _Tara_ win?"

"Technically we both did." David seemed to struggle with meeting her eyes, focusing on the suspicion in his on and off again nemesis. And that was enough for Tara to turn around to address Jax directly.

"Do you think you can get me some punch and some chips or something?" She asked him sweetly. "I'll meet you at our table in a second. I want to ask David something about our final project."

"Yeah... Okay, Babe." Jax kissed her cheek without ever taking his eyes off the handsome young man looking up at them from where he sat. "Just try not to give me a reason to shoot anybody else."

Tara sighed, rolling her eyes. "I _really _wish you would stop making jokes like that."

Jax pressed two fingers to her chin, tipping her head up the perfect angle for her mouth to meet his. Pulling away slowly, he glanced over the top of her head.

"Who says I'm joking?" He might have winked at him, but he offered no smile to soften the warning glance he shot David as he began walking backwards, towards the round table where their friends were all sitting. Sure, he'd appreciated the fact that David was willing to step and take a bullet for her when he wasn't there.

That didn't mean he wouldn't be tempted to put another one in him.

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**[REVIEW]**


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